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hopefully ask all the questions that will be needed and we can write up the reports as quickly as possible. Won’t you feel better knowing there’s nothing wrong?” Lucas cajoled.
    She met his gaze and a tiny smile tilted one corner of her mouth.
    “Maybe,” she conceded. “But I’d feel even better in my own clothes and not this scrap.”
    “You look stunning,” Lucas promised her. He kept his gaze on hers, the heat in his eyes clearly proving he meant what he’d said.
    “Can we at least swing by my place for a change of clothes? You can both come with me if you think I might make a run for it.”
    Lucas turned to trade glances with Tristan. His partner appeared thoughtful for a moment, then shrugged and spoke for the first time.
    “Five minutes won’t make a bit of difference in the scheme of things,” he acknowledged.
    Lucas laced his fingers through Abigail’s and squeezed gently. She smiled back at him, gratitude shining in her green eyes.
    “Thanks,” she said softly, her gaze holding his.
    Lucas’ heart hammered. Despite the gravity of the situation he couldn’t help but be pleased to have calmed her down and answered some of her questions.
    “You’ll need to give Tristan directions.” He tilted his head as he grinned at Abby. “Your address was in Harper’s files, but my partner has a terrible sense of direction.”
    “Bullshit,” Tristan replied without missing a beat. “You’re the one who had to do a map-search online to find the damn clinic. And then write out the directions onto a piece of paper.”
    “So you saying you don’t want Abigail to give us directions to her place?” Lucas winked at Abigail, knowing full well his partner would need them.
    Tristan muttered darkly for a moment before sighing. The banter had brought a chuckle out of Abby and her grin was blinding in its intensity and beauty.
    “Fine, give me the bloody directions,” Tristan capitulated.
    Abigail shifted to settle herself more comfortably on the seat and looked around them to get her bearings.
    “Okay…”

Chapter Three
     
     
     
    Abby could barely believe after everything that had occurred she once again sat on a gurney-style bed, surrounded by hospital smells and medical equipment having her blood drawn. Maybe she really was crazy after all.
    At least she felt infinitely more comfortable in her favourite pair of worn jeans and a bright green T-shirt with the slogan ‘Smile big, Run fast, Live Life!’ on it. She had hoped the peppy shirt would cheer her mood up, and to a degree it had helped.
    The man lounging against one stark white wall also contributed far more to her peace of mind than she cared to admit. Lucas Sloan. She rolled the name around in her head a few more times, liking the way it sounded far too much.
    Focusing on Lucas, she found, distracted her from the anxiety that simmered under the surface of her brain. She’d known her life had taken a drastic turn when she’d been bundled unceremoniously into the back of a truck and whisked away against her will. The night of fever and dreams that had followed had disoriented her, then waking up to find herself strapped down in a strange bed, nurses sedating her every time she’d asked too many questions, had all been utterly overwhelming.
    Finally having the time, space and mental clarity to think had only given her more questions that needed answering.
    “Press down,” she was told by the man as he withdrew the needle and collected his various test tubes.
    Abigail put her fingers over the tuft of cotton in the juncture of her elbow and pushed to stop the small prick in her skin from bleeding.
    The technician met her eyes and smiled in a reassuring manner, then whisked the samples away, presumably for testing. A part of Abigail wondered what they’d find, but she knew very firmly she would not be returning to a hospital unless it became dire. She was done with hospitals and the medical profession.
    If they looked hard enough they could