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big guy.”
    Her eldest brother loomed at her feet, all rumpled and bleary, like he’d also been roused from a pill-induced sleep. Which was more than likely. His hands curled into fists and he might as well have been chewing on nails. Hero tried to understand him. But they rarely agreed on anything. In his mind he exacted death and formed a battle plan. He was gathering intel and securing the high-ground. He’d never come home from the war. It still raged within him. “I swear to God, I’m going to—”
    “Not now.” Andra grabbed his arm.
    His jaw ticked. “Later then,” he promised.
    Andra patted Hero’s forearm. Her fingers were moist from wiping the tears off her cheeks. Red patches of skin crept up her elegant neck as she fought her emotion. Andra was a blotchy crier like her. Huh. You learned something new every day. “I’m just going to make sure the poor doctor is okay,” she sniffed.
    “Maybe he’s single,” Hero suggested through tingling lips. Uh oh, maybe the drugs were beginning to wear off. No good could come of this.
    “Why don’t you go for him, then?” Andra visibly brightened and hid her worry behind a prolonged blink. Andra could play anyone like Darol Anger’s fiddle and could read a person with Shakespearean accuracy. She’d honed her acting skills in the courtroom and, at this moment, Hero was glad. “You’ve got to be the hottest patient he’s had in a long time. Plus, you look pathetic enough to pull the sympathy card.”
    “I have too many tears in me.” Hero held up her bandages for inspection. Hey, it worked! “I’ll give you the advantage point, this time.”
    Andra blinked again, but her smile remained. The corner of her lip caught the tear that escaped. But bless her for trying.
    “Now, go arbitrate,” Hero demanded, before she ended up crying too. If she started now, she’d not stop until her bones wrung dry.
    Andra collected Connor on her way out.
    Now she was almost alone with him. If she could only get rid of Rown. She looked up at her brother who stood with his arms crossed over his chest and glared down at her.
    Didn’t seem likely. Dammit. Hero frowned right back. If he said something to harsh her buzz, she’d never forgive him.
    “Who’s your friend?” she spoke first, looking past Rown to the mysterious man who regarded her with what she imagined to be a fascinated expression. Some people would say he looked at her like she was crazy. But she was an optimist. Life was all about perspective, right?
    He gave her a startled blink, but quickly recovered and cleared his throat. “I’m Special Agent Luca Ramirez.” He stepped out of the dark corner toward the foot of the bed. He moved like a panther might. Sleek. Predatory. Deceptively loose-limbed and relaxed, until you were lying with your throat torn out wondering what just happened. “I have a few questions for you.”
    “Absolutely not,” Rown snarled.
    She didn’t like where this was going at all.
    “She doesn’t want to go there right now,” Rown said.
    “You know the longer I wait, the less likely it is we catch this guy.” Agent Ramirez stepped toward her.
    “Tough shit.” Rown stepped closer, as well, her wall against reality and the horror that faced her in remembering it.
    “What’s with you, man?” Luca threw his hands out. “What if someone else is already in danger and she holds the key to apprehending this sick bastard? You of all people should appreciate that.”
    “That someone else isn’t my sister,” Rown said. “She almost died tonight, for chrissakes and she’s tripping balls. Nothing she says can be admissible in court. You can wait until tomorrow.”
    Hero shrugged. She didn’t want to face this. Not now, not ever . But Agent Ramirez had a point. The dill weed. What if she decided to be an ostrich and another woman died? She’d have that on her conscience.
    “It already is tomorrow,” she sighed and motioned to the dim silver light at the window that