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  “So, have you two geniuses figured out that you helped a criminal escape?” Annie crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot on the floor.

  “I’m sorry,” Silk Robe said. “But how were we supposed to know who was telling the truth? The big guy—your boyfriend? your husband?—seemed dangerous. I thought he was going to kill the other man.”

  “Mr. Carmichael is a former FBI agent. He came to my rescue earlier tonight when the man you let get away tried to kill me.” Annie lifted her blouse and pointed to her bandaged side.

  “We heard you scream the first time and this gentleman and I both came out of our rooms,” Boxer Shorts said as he approached Annie. “When we didn’t hear anything else, we decided maybe it had come from a television, so we went back to our rooms. But then when you screamed the second time, we both came back out into the hall and agreed that we should investigate.”

  “I know y’all meant well,” Annie said. “But why do you think I’d be screaming, if I was trying to rob somebody?”

  Silk Robe hung his head. “I don’t guess we were thinking straight. But you’ve got to admit that the man—Mr. Carmichael—seemed to have the upper hand. We thought he was…well, it was an honest mistake.”

  Annie sighed. “The police are on their way. You two just stay put right here until they arrive.” Annie headed toward the door.

  “Where are you going?” Boxer Shorts asked.

  “I’m going to find out if Dane caught that man!”

  Leaving the two remorseful do-gooders seated, one on each bed, she walked out into the hallway and down to the elevators. Just as she punched the down button, the elevator doors swung open. Instinctively, she took a step backward and held her breath. Dane Carmichael glared at her as he emerged from the elevator.

  “What happened?” Annie asked, the question gushing out on her released breath.

  “He got away,” Dane mumbled disgustedly. “I could see him ahead of me, until we reached the parking deck. Then he just disappeared. I searched every inch of the deck, but he was long gone.”

  “At least now I can give the police a description of him. That should help them track him down.”

  “Just how the hell did he get into your room in the first place?” Dane asked.

  “I let him in,” she reluctantly admitted.

  “What?”

  “He told me he was a policeman. He even showed me his badge.” Annie rubbed her forehead. “I feel like such a dope.”

  Dane slipped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his side. “Don’t beat yourself up about it, hon—Annie. My guess is the guy’s a local hood. A hired gun. I doubt he’ll be caught. Being so near the Gulf, he’s got too many ways to escape.”

  “If he’s just a hired gun, then he’s not important, is he?” Annie allowed herself the luxury of leaning on Dane, of absorbing his strength. As much as she usually hated relying on a man—any man—she couldn’t resist accepting the comfort and support Dane offered. “I mean, if the man who tried to kill me is just an employee, that means someone hired him. That’s the person I have to unearth—the person who thinks I know what Halley knew.”

  “Come on, let’s go back to your room and wait for the police.” Dane led her down the hall.

  “I’m not expecting much from the local authorities,” Annie said. “After all, they’ve got a very limited force and I’m sure they aren’t accustomed to attempted murder cases or kidnapping or—”

  “Don’t go writing these guys off before you give them a chance. I have a feeling your lieutenant McCullough is going to pay attention to your suspicions now.”

  Dane had been right. Lieutenant McCullough did pay attention to her suspicions and promised a full-fledged investigation into Halley Robinson’s disappearance and an all-out manhunt for Annie’s attacker. But she surmised that the lieutenant’s sudden about-face had as much to do with his discovery that Dane Carmichael was a former FBI agent as to the actual events surrounding Halley’s disappearance and the two attacks on her.

  Annie checked the time on her wristwatch. Four thirty-eight. She’d had quite a night. One she hoped to never repeat. She kicked off her shoes and lay on the bed. Exhaustion claimed her body the moment she relaxed atop the quilted floral comforter.

  Dane locked the door and secured the safety latch, then dropped his duffel bag on the floor. He paused by the bed, removed his hip holster and laid it on the nightstand. On their drive back from the police station, they’d stopped by the Sweet Savannah to pick up his things.

  “I hated having to call Halley’s parents from the police station. Her father didn’t say so, but I know he blames me.” Annie closed her eyes and let her body go limp. God, she was tired! Tired and angry and frightened. And her side ached unbearably. “I blame myself. If I hadn’t given her a job on Today’s Alabama, she’d be married to Jonathan Lyles Wilkerson IV, be a member of the Junior League and probably secretary of her mother’s study club. And she’d be alive.”

  Dane remembered that Lorna had belonged to the Junior League and been the treasurer of her aunt’s study club. And she had married Beauregard Dane Carmichael III.

  “You don’t know for sure that Halley’s dead,” Dane said.

  “Yes, I do. You know it, too.”

  Dane flipped on the bathroom light switch. “Where’s your medicine?”

  “Over here in the nightstand drawer.” When she turned and reached toward the drawer pull, excruciating pain took her breath away.

  “Just lie still,” Dane told her. “I’ll get it.” He turned on the sink faucet, filled a glass with water, brought it over and set it on the bedside table.

  “I’m not used to someone waiting on me, taking care of me.”

  “Make an exception this time, Brown Eyes,” Dane said. “I promise I won’t think of you as a weak, helpless female.”

  While he jerked both pillows out from underneath the comforter and braced them against the headboard, he slipped his other arm around Annie and lifted her. He placed her in a semi upright position, then handed her the glass of water.

  “You’re very astute, Mr. Carmichael.” Holding the glass in both hands, she tilted her chin and stared into Dane’s bright blue eyes.

  He grinned. “It wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out you’re no helpless Southern belle or that once upon a time some guy made the mistake of trying to turn you into one.”

  Dane opened the nightstand drawer, pulled out the paper sack and dumped two small plastic bottles into his hand. After crumpling the sack, he tossed it across the room. It landed in the wastebasket by the dresser. Then he read the prescribed dosages, snapped open the lids, one at a time, and removed the medication.

  He put the capsules in her hand. “One of each.”

  “I hate taking—”

  He laid his index finger across her lips. “Hush up and take the medicine. It’s no disgrace to admit you’re in pain. Even big, tough guys like me have downed pain pills.”

  Without another word of protest, Annie popped the capsules into her mouth, gulped several sips of water and swallowed the medication. Dane took the glass out of her hand and set it on the table.

  “Now, lie down, close your eyes and try to rest,” he told her, then turned off the bedside lamp, leaving only the light from the bathroom to illuminate the room.

  “What are you going to do?” she asked as she scooted down in the bed.

  Dane leaned over, rearranged her pillows and slid his hand beneath her hips, lifting her just enough so that he could jerk the covers down to the foot of the bed. He helped her adjust into a more comfortable position, then pulled the sheet and blanket up to her waist.

  “I’m going to try to get some shut-eye, too.” When her gaze skipped past him and focused on the outer door, he gently grasped her chin. She looked up at him. “I’m a light sleeper. No one is going to get in here without my hearing them first.”

  She nodded, smiled weakly, and closed her eyes. Dane lay on the other bed. Lifting