He headed down the hallway, ignoring their shouts calling him back.

CHAPTER TWO

Five weeks later

BRIGHT lights, loud voices, a cacophony of noises bombarded him from every angle, jarring him from the blissful darkness where the pain had been dormant.

“Status.”

“Thirty-eight-year-old male. In and out of consciousness. Symp- toms indicate possible concussion. Lacerations on the face. Contusions on several parts of the body. Possible patella fracture. Possible cracked ribs.”

“From a car accident?”

“No, from a mixed martial arts fight.”

Light flashed across his face. “If he won, I’d hate to see the guy who lost.”

“No kidding. Be warned: He’s disoriented and volatile.”

“Put him in the back while we wait for an opening in the diagnostic rooms.”

“You got it, Doc.”

The noise faded and his stomach roiled. This time he couldn’t stop it.

“He’s gagging. Get a bucket.”

Hands tilted his head, and he expelled the contents of his stomach.

Then he went under again.

• • •

“MR. Black, can you open your eyes?”

Ronin winced when he shook his head. Felt like his brain was grinding against the inside of his skull.

“Sorry. I have to do this. Hold him still.”

Someone pried his eyelids open with a crowbar and tried to sear his retinas with laser beams. Tears streamed out the corners of his eyes and down his neck. He tried to twist away, but rough hands held him firm.

“Almost done.”

White spots danced behind his lids even after he slammed them shut.

“Tell me the last thing you remember.”

Everything had been so fuzzy—shrouded by the pain in his head. “I was nauseous.”

“Before that?”

Being in the cage. Existing in that state where he focused on inflicting maximum damage on his opponent. Then being on his motorcycle. Racing toward . . .

“Sir?” the voice interrupted. “Try to think back. The last image you remember.”

“I was in a tunnel.”

“Like tunnel vision?”

“Yes.”

“Suddenly bright light? Or very dim?”

“Both. I saw a pinpoint in the distance; then my peripheral vision blurred and became dark.” He remembered the hardness pressing into his swollen knee and the cooling effects of the flooring on his forearms before everything went black.

“Do you recall where you were?”

He squeezed his eyes as if that would help him concentrate. Why couldn’t he remember?

“Places? People?”

Wait. He’d banged on a door. Not the door to the dojo but a door in an alley. He’d had a sense of urgency. Of anxiety.

Amery.

His stomach twisted. What had he done? Last time he’d had a memory lapse like this . . .

He’d hurt her.

He frantically attempted to sit up; the center of his body seemed glued down. His arms and legs were useless. Jesus. Was he paralyzed?

He clenched his hands into fists. Beeping machines, unidentifiable clicking sounds, the murmur of voices surrounded him as he jerked to free himself.

“Mr. Black. Stay still.”

“Why the f**k can’t I move?”

“The EMTs had to strap you down because you were agitated.”

“Where am I?”

“Denver Memorial’s emergency room.”

“Undo the straps.”

“I’m sorry. We have to keep you immobilized for your protection and ours.”

He tried to roll his shoulders. “I didn’t ask to be admitted. You can’t hold me against my will.”

“Ronin. Stop fighting.” Cool hands pressed against his cheeks. “Please.”

His heart raced and his body stirred. “Amery. Are you okay?”

“I’m better off than you are.” Then her soft fingers smoothed his hair back. “Stay still.”

Immediately, Ronin relaxed.

“You seem to have the magic touch,” the persistent voice remarked.

“There’s a first time for everything,” Amery said.

“I need to check on something. You’ll be okay staying with him?”

“Yes.”

Her gentle touches calmed him but stirred his confusion. “Why are you here?”

“You asked me to come.”

“Even after I—”

“Showed up in the dead of night, bloodied, beat-up, and confused? When I haven’t heard from you in six weeks? Yes.”

“Did I . . .” He swallowed hard. “Hurt you?”

“Physically? No. But seeing you like this?” She paused. “That definitely hurts. Especially since I don’t think you’ll remember much of what you’ve said tonight.”

Even when he tried to open his eyes, he couldn’t. He needed to see her. To make sure he wasn’t dreaming. “I might not remember the past few hours, but I do remember the past few weeks have been hell without you.”

“Is this where I point out it took a blow to the head before you reached out to me?”

“You reached out to me first. With that peace offering.”

“Stop. You’re making no sense.” She trailed her fingertips across his hairline and down his temple. “I can’t imagine how much pain you’re in. What can I do?”

“Don’t go.”