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sending shafts of pain and light through her brain. He pressed harder, then braced himself and used his knee to hold her to the bed. He was crushing her windpipe.
    Panicked, she grappled for the call button, but he yanked it from her hand. White spots filled her graying vision. She couldn’t die this way. She wouldn’t.
    Frantic, relying on pure instinct, Raven used all of her remaining strength to drive the flat of her palm into the man’s nose as hard as she could. She heard the crunch of breaking bone.
    Her attacker yelled and stumbled back, blood spewing over his mask.
    A string of expletives exploded, and he slammed his fist into her head. Pain like a thousand pieces of shrapnel penetrating her skull shattered her control, but she had one chance to live.
    Screaming for help, she clutched her head and curled up to protect herself.
    Shouting and approaching footsteps sounded from beyond the curtain.
    “Damn it!” Her assailant, wearing a white doctor’s coat over jeans, shoved through the curtain, covered with his own blood. He slammed a metal cart to the side and barreled over the doctor.
    Raven struggled to take in air through her damaged throat. She heard frantic cries to call the sheriff, and the thud and crash of more bodies and equipment hitting the floor.
    The doctor staggered to her side, blood streaming down the side of his face. “Are you all right? What happened?”
    “That man tried to kill me,” Raven croaked. “I need Daniel. Someone please get me Daniel.”
    The doctor yelled out some orders then bent over her. “Stay with me, Raven. Don’t give up.”
    She blinked through the agonizing pain. All she wanted to do was sleep. She couldn’t keep her eyes open. She sucked in a shallow breath. She should have trusted her gut. She should have trusted Daniel.
    She had made a horrible mistake. She just prayed Daniel wouldn’t hold it against her.
    * * *
    T HE JAIL CELL was too small.
    Daniel lay rigid on the bunk and stared at the tiles on the ceiling, counting the dotted patterns within them. He refused to look at the gray cinder-block walls, and he sure as hell wouldn’t look at the bars holding him in this prison.
    Cringing and screaming on the floor, fighting off phantoms only he could see, would go a long way to convincing Galloway he had a psycho on his hands. If Daniel didn’t get out soon, he wouldn’t be able to hold it together. That time was coming closer every second.
    His gut filled with panic until one mind-blowing thought intruded. Raven was vulnerable, and he couldn’t help her from in here—or from the psycho ward.
    He’d tried not to let her get to him.
    Who was he kidding? She already had.
    Daniel gritted his teeth, sat up and stared through the bars, clenching and reclenching his fists, his knuckles turning white. His hands were clammy, and he fought the urge to rock in place. He rubbed his wrists. At least the sheriff had finally removed the cuffs. Just in time. Daniel had been ready to throttle Galloway to get the keys.
    He hadn’t done it. He’d maintained control.
    Barely.
    When the bars had clanked closed, the crisscross of scars on Daniel’s back had started to burn. He’d promised himself he’d never be in this situation again. Never be incarcerated. Never be captive and powerless again.
    He wiped the sweat from his eyes, restless, edgy, like he was jumping out of his skin. He should have left Raven at the clinic and moved on. He didn’t even know her. She was none of his business.
    An image of her pain-filled eyes haunted him, though, hitting him harder than the echoes of remembered screams in his mind. Stronger than the memory of his torturer’s laughter. The snap of the whip. The sound of bones breaking. Those were all trumped by Raven’s small whimper of pain and the way she’d looked at him with such trust.
    Good God, lady, don’t depend on me.
    Unable to sit still any longer, Daniel rose and grabbed the cold steel bars and shook them, testing the lock.