Chill by Stephanie Rowe Page A

extensive medical supplies. Syringes, bottles of medication, bandages, surgical blades that made her shudder.
    A doctor’s office? But who had brought her here? Who was waiting for her? Nate?
    Her heart pounding with fear, Isabella swung her feet over the edge of the table and sat up. She waited for the hit of dizziness, but it didn’t come. The fever was gone.
    She braced herself to push off the table. Her shoulder ached at the pressure, and a fuzzy image flashed through her mind. Of Luke picking her up. Carrying her. Giving her aspirin. His lips brushing over her forehead. His deep voice, telling her it was going to be all right.
    Luke had found her. Not Nate.
    She shuddered and dropped her face to her hands as tears suddenly burned in her eyes. He’d helped her. She hadn’t paid him, hadn’t offered him anything in return, and yet he’d come back and helped her anyway.
    He’d saved her.
    Her throat became thick, and she swallowed hard. “It doesn’t mean anything,” she said aloud. “He already said he won’t help you. Take it as a gift and don’t count on anything more. You don’t need him anyway. You’re strong.”
    Strength flowed back into her, and she felt a hard protection build around her heart again, cutting off the vulnerability. She pressed her hand to her necklace, and she heard her mother’s voice in her mind. The soft, gentle tones she had reserved only for her daughter. “ You can do anything you want, Isa. Always know that. You don’t need anyone. You are enough. ”
    “I am enough,” she whispered. “Thank you, Mama.”
    She squeezed the pendant one more time and began to assess her situation. She pulled the blanket off her shoulder and inspected her injury. A clean white bandage neatly covered her wound, and the angry red streaks no longer emanated from it. It still hurt, but the pain was less. She wasn’t trembling anymore.
    Luke had taken her to a doctor, just as she’d asked. He’d scooped her out of the woods and brought her here. Tears threatened again, and she quickly blinked them back. Dammit! What was wrong with her? Was she really so starved for attention that she’d get all weepy over a trip to the doctor? Luke had already said he wouldn’t help her. His attitude toward his father was clear, and every second spent sitting around was another second that Marcus was suffering at the hands of Leon.
    If Luke wouldn’t help her save Marcus, she had no time for him. Besides, he was everything she didn’t want. He was her worst nightmare. A man who had eschewed family, money and his own father in return for this barren existence.
    She looked around the cabin. God, she couldn’t live like this again. It was too hard. Too brutal. And this was a doctor’s cabin, for heaven’s sake! What kind of life would a bush pilot have? She couldn’t go back to a life of deprivation.
    Her stomach clenched, and she slid off the table, suddenly desperate to get out. To get away from this world of financial hardship, of not enough food or furniture, of a wood stove in the corner because there was no heat…
    Her sweater was tossed over the back of a faded armchair, and she hurried over to retrieve it. She still had her bra on, and her jeans—
    Oh, God. The necklace. She ran her hand over her crotch and sighed with relief when she felt the familiar bulge. She’d sewn it into the low-slung crotch of her new jeans so it wouldn’t be found in a quick search.
    She didn’t want to think about what Nate would have to do to find it.
    She picked up her sweater, then sighed when she saw it had apparently been cut off her. Obviously a male doctor. A woman would have appreciated the sweater and taken the time to remove it intact. She folded the sweater and set it back on the chair. No matter how many clothes Marcus had made sure she owned, she had never gotten used to that kind of money, to the luxury of the material against her skin, and she still treasured it.
    She reluctantly picked up the crusty