Page 20 of Unchained

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Minutes ticked by as Cam waited for Brooks to stop jostling himself on the bed. Her fingers ached with the need to touch him, to evaluate his stability, but the trembling of his shoulders stopped her.

“Brooks? Can you lie flat so I can check your vitals?”

He lifted his head. Bloodshot eyes met hers, and she staggered back.

“Go,” he said. “You can’t be here.”

She caught the nightstand for support. His arms quivered. Goosebumps covered his skin, making his arm hair stand straight up. His skin was nearly gray. Sweat ran in rivulets down his face, soaking his shirt. She couldn’t leave him like this. With his body already depleted of food and no one to monitor his symptoms, he might die.

Steeling herself, she dropped to her knees beside the bed. “I’m going to see you through this.”

He sat back on his haunches and snagged her shoulders, towing her to his face. His grip was unrelenting but not painful. Despite the red-tainted whites of his eyes, the blues of his irises were bright. “You can’t. I could hurt you.” He tore his hands from her shoulders and slumped onto the bed. His breath rode out of his lips rapidly.

She turned for her medical bag, which was packed inside her duffel. She’d encountered dangerous patients before. It was part of the job. All she could hope was that he stayed coherent enough to know she wasn’t a threat.

She sat on the edge of the bed and pressed her hand to his chest. His heart pummeled against her palm. “Okay, Brooks. I’m going to listen to your heart and check your blood pressure. I’ll need to do this often, so bear with me. If you need a minute, just hold up your hand or tell me.”

He sucked back a moan. “Please, Cam . . . you need to get out of here. It’s not safe. I don’t want to—”

“Shh, shhh,” she said softly, stroking her fingers through his gritty hair. “You’re going to be okay. You won’t hurt me or anyone. You’re in control here.”

His breathing slowed.

She waited, continuing to move her hand over his scalp in a steady motion, since it seemed to calm him.

“K-Keep talking,” he said, the words so weak they were barely audible. “P-Please.”

She frowned and leaned closer.

“Your voice—it helps.”

She inhaled deeply. Talk. Okay . . . “You’re going to pull through this. You just need to focus on your breath, and on my voice. As soon as you’re up to it, there’s a hot shower waiting, and a warm meal.”

A shudder ran over his body and his teeth clanked together. His shirt was soaking with sweat. She needed to get it off him, but she’d wait until the next time he moved to help him remove it. She opened her medical bag, pulled out her stethoscope, and fit the rubber nubs into her ears. “Stay with me, Brooks. I’m going to listen to your heart.”

He didn’t flinch or indicate that she should stop. She slid her hand under his shirt, pressed the metal diaphragm to his chest, and moved the piece around. His heart thumped rapidly—alarmingly fast, but strong. Next, she’d take his blood pressure. Wrapping the cuff around his bicep, she pressed the end of the stethoscope to the crook of his elbow. She counted for a minute.

Holy shit.

“It’s always high,” he said.

She shifted her gaze to his face. He watched her through half-closed eyes. The skin around them was shiny. “How high?” she asked.

His shoulder jerked in a weak shrug. “Not like they told me.”

“I’ll need to keep an eye on it.”

“Not going to the hospital.” He gave one hard shake of his head. “I’ll die here.”

She ripped off the cuff. “Great,” she said sarcastically.

He shifted to his side, his face contorted.

She straightened. “Are you okay?”

He twisted into a fetal position. More sweat rolled down his face. He cupped his hand over his forehead. She pressed her palm to the skin on his arm—scorching hot. She had to cool him down.

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