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I stop him by grabbing the back of his neck. Tell me the truth.

Max reacts to this with a sharp intake of breath. "Anna, what are you doing?"

Ortiz pulls against my grip. I work my fingers tight around his throat. He manages to gasp, No one else is to know.

I release him. "Max is my friend. He can be trusted." I deliberately say it out loud. Max's eyes are wide with shock. He's trying to figure out what Ortiz did to set me off. I don't want to shock him further by admitting that Officer Ortiz is a vampire, too, and we can communicate without using our voices.

Better to bluff.

"I had a feeling he wasn't telling us the truth. He's going to take us to David now."

I avoid looking at Max when I say it. It's bad enough to feel his confusion—it's thick in the air—I don't have to see it, too. The silence is, once again, no longer comfortable between us.

Ortiz is silent, too. I don't attempt to apologize. He lied about David. Even if he'd had orders to do so in front of Max, he could have told me the truth telepathically.

Our ride ends at County General Hospital in Hillcrest.

Not the thing to inspire my confidence.

The moment I pass through the doors, I'm assaulted by the smell and feel of the place. Blood and desperation. My stomach begins to churn. I was brought here to recover from the attack of the vampire who sired me. Even after all these months, the memories are painful and intense. The doctor who treated me, Avery. All that happened after.

"Anna?"

Max's voice penetrates the veil.

I look up at him, realizing then, that I had come to a stop just inside the doors. His eyes are questioning.

"Are you all right?"

I shake off the fog of despair that descended so rapidly and without warning and release a breath. "Yes. Do you want to go to emergency while I check on David? You have to have that ankle attended to."

He waves off the suggestion. At the same time, I realize that someone has given him a pair of crutches. I don't know when that happened. It must have been while I was lost in my own black trip down memory lane.

Ortiz follows us inside and hands me a slip of paper. David's room number. "He's registered as Richard Smith," he says. He points us toward the elevator and when I turn to thank him, he's already headed for the door. His stride is stiff, angry.

I don't care.

The elevator whisks us up seven floors and when the doors slide open, we find ourselves in a critical care unit. Once again, that queasy feeling returns. David may not be dead, but he must be hurt pretty badly to be here.

A placard near the elevator declares that all visitors must check in at the nurse's station. When we do, Max is questioned about his own condition and if he should be on his feet. He is blunt in his insistence that he is all right. A nurse is just as insistent that he use a wheelchair and it's only after she refuses to point us to David's room, that he reluctantly agrees.

I wait through this exchange with an uncharacteristic patience. I am afraid. Afraid to see what has been done to David. Afraid to acknowledge that I must accept responsibility for whatever it is.

I left him alone.

When Max is in the chair, we are allowed to proceed down the hall.

Room 718.

The door is closed. There's a uniformed cop sitting on a metal chair. He's got a radio and at our approach, he stands and motions us to the door. "Williams says it's okay for you to go in."

I peek through the glass window.

Relief surges through me like a rush of adrenaline.

He's sitting up in bed.

No tubes. No life monitoring equipment.

I peer into the corners of the room.

No Gloria.

Hallelujah.

David is alone and breathing on his own. How bad can it be?

CHAPTER 57

I HAVE MY HAND ON THE DOORKNOB WHEN MAX stops me by placing his hand over mine.

"Does he know?" he asks.

It takes a beat or two for me to connect the dots. "Oh. Does David know about me?” I shake my head. "No. You are the only one who knows."

The only human who knows, that is. But I don't want to complicate things.

He doesn't look as if he believes me. "Look, Max, I know you have questions. I'm sorry. I'll try to answer them in time."

He's looking in at David now. He nods. "You're right. I'll wait. I think I deserve some answers, though."

"And you'll get them. I promise. Can we go in?"

He lets his hand drop. I take that as a "yes" and push at the door.

I make sure Max's chair clears the door before rushing around him to do something I've only done once before in our acquaintance. I hug David. A hug meant to convey relief, apology and remorse.

Not that David realizes any of that.

He merely accepts the hug as a gesture from a friend without comment before extricating himself gingerly from my clinging arms.

"Careful," he warns. He points in the direction of his left shoulder. "Stitches."

I jump back. "God. Sorry. What happened? What's with the cop outside?"

But David is looking at Max. "The better question is what happened to you two? Max, you look worse than I feel."

Max waves the comment off with the back of his hand. "Long story. Anna has been worried sick since we heard about you. Better fill her in."

I pull a chair up to David's bedside and sit my butt down. "Tell us."

David frowns down at me. "First, I owe you an apology"

"An apology?"

He nods. "I should have told you something days ago. I don't know why I didn't. It's not like you can't take care of yourself."

My brief flirtation with patience comes to a screeching halt. "Damn it—" I almost say his name. I have to bite it off at the last minute. "Get on with it. What happened?"

He smiles at the outburst. "Glad to see you aren't treating me with kid gloves just because I happen to be in the hospital with a gunshot wound."

I start to jump up and he waves me back down. "Okay, okay. I got shot. Two days ago. High-powered rifle. Another inch to the left and I'd be dead. But I must have a guardian angel because nothing vital was hit and I woke up to find myself here. The docs say I'll be fine."

"You're sure?"

He nods.

"Then why all the subterfuge?"

"Williams' idea," he says. "Before the shooting, I'd been getting calls. Somebody threatening to do me bodily harm. But after each call, the guy would say, 'tell your girlfriend.' "

My shoulders jump.

David sees it. Again, he misunderstands. "I know. I should have told you. But I thought he was referring to Gloria. So naturally, I assumed it was some kind of publicity stunt. Especially with the opening of the restaurant and all. I even made Gloria double the security for that night. But then I got shot before the opening." He lifts his good shoulder in a half shrug. "I'm no closer to figuring out what it's all about now than I was before. But I should have told you what was happening. You could have been with me when I was shot. Hell, you might have taken the bullet instead of me. I had no right to keep something so important from you."

Max is looking at me. I feel it. He's waiting for me to take that cue. When I don't right away, he makes a sound in his throat. "I'm going to leave you two," he says. "I think it's time I get this ankle tended to." He reaches out a hand and David takes it. "Glad it's not more serious," he says. His gaze fixes on me. "See you later, Anna?"

I avoid his eyes but nod. I'm not anxious to admit to David that I, too, have been keeping secrets. Lots of them.

Max wheels himself out of the room. When the door has swished to a close behind him, David says quietly, "I really am sorry, Anna. I jumped on you for the way things have been between us, and I'm the one who hasn't been honest."