Run to Me by Christy Reece

Could she believe him?
    Fingers grasping the sink for support, she closed her eyes and tried to make sense of it all. Was all of this possible? Could she really be Shea Monroe?
    A knock on the door shook her from her panicked thoughts.
    “Shea, you okay?”
    “Yes … I’ll be out in a minute.” She relieved herself and hurriedly drank a glass of water. Making use of the toiletries on the counter in front of her, she washed her face, brushed her teeth, and combed her hair. An odd sense of accomplishment swept through her at the completion of these mundane and normal tasks.
    Feeling somewhat refreshed and more capable, she pulled the door open and shuffled out. The man who’d been kind to her stood beside the window, across the room. Ethan, the man who’d been alternately kind and gruff, sat in a chair beside the bed.
    “Good morning, Shea,” Ethan said.
    That deep, graveled voice now sounded so familiar. Was it from her past or because she’d heard him so much over the last few days? If Ethan was truly evil, why was he constantly taking care of her instead of harming her? Was she beginning to accept what he’d told her?
    “Shea, you okay?”
    She gave a rapid shake of her head, hoping to clear it from the incessant shroud of fogginess. “Why does everyone keep saying ‘Shea’?”
    “Because you need to learn your name.” Ethan sounded angry for some reason.
    The other man shot a surprised glance at Ethan and then nodded toward the breakfast tray. “We’ll talk while you eat.”
    She bit her lip, uncertainty warring with the need to fill the gnawing emptiness in her belly. Yesterday, the food had been fine, but what about today? “I don’t know …”
    “Your food is not drugged, dammit,” Ethan growled.
    The stranger frowned at Ethan. “You get up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, or what?”
    “I’m just tired of her questioning everything we do. It’s time she learned to trust.”
    Her spine stiffened. “I don’t think your attitude inspires trust, Mr. Bishop.” The voice, crisp and alert, surprised her, even though it came from her mouth.
    Ethan’s laugh was rusty and gruff, as if it hadn’t been used in a while. For some reason, the sound caused all sorts of tingles and leaps inside her body.
How odd.
    “Now, that sounds like the Shea Monroe I used to know.” Ethan nodded toward her tray. “Eat your breakfast.”
    She felt a strange compulsion to refuse, so that he would lose his temper. Why? She never challenged others. She performed her duties, did what she was told to do. The master always … A hot flush of dizziness swamped her as her legs buckled.
    Ethan was there before she could fall. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. You’re fine.”
    The gruff tone had disappeared and the gentle, concerned man had returned. He carried her to the bed and sat her down.
    “Better?”
    She swallowed past the fear. “Yes.”
    “What happened?”
    “I don’t know … I …” Closing her eyes, she shook her head. “I just had a strange sensation that I …” She reached for the memory and couldn’t find it. “I don’t know.”
    Ethan uncovered the plate of food, revealing scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, fruit juice, and coffee. “Eat and we’ll talk.”
    Knowing she had no choice but to at least trust him in this, she took tiny bites and felt better with each swallow.
    The man beside Ethan spoke. “We’ve not been properly introduced… . I’m Noah McCall.”
    “The head of LCR.” She remembered Ethan telling her this.
    When Noah McCall smiled, she blinked again, this time in shock. How had she not noticed how incredibly handsome this man was?
    “Do you remember anything else?”
    She shrugged. “I only remembered that because Ethan told me.”
    “Can you tell me what you remember about Donald Rosemount?”
    “The man Ethan said drugged me?”
    “Yes.”
    “My mind is blurred. The name seems oddly familiar but I don’t know why. I see vague, blurred images… . I’m not