Silver Blade by Charlotte Copper Page B

the desk, and helped herself to a cup as Jackie suggested. It was going to be a long night.
    Thirty minutes after she sat down, the front doors slid open and a man wearing a police uniform walked in. He surveyed the waiting room, and then behind the desk. When his scan proved fruitless, the officer let himself through the authorized personnel only doors. A few minutes later he came back out with Jackie.
    “Officer Pettiworth, this is…I’m sorry, I don’t think I got your name,” said the nurse.
    “I’m Angela. Angela Knight.”
    “Angela is the one that brought Mr. McAvoy in,” Jackie told the police officer.
    “Do you mind if I ask you some questions, ma’am?” The officer sat down in one of the chairs without waiting for Angela’s answer.
    She spent the next half hour explaining what she had seen to the police officer. He went over everything, sometimes repeating the question a few minutes later. How often did people’s stories change when asked the same question twice?
    When he was done with his questions, the officer asked if she would mind driving with him out to the accident scene. Once there, he asked more questions, repeating some of the evening’s earlier questions yet again. The sun had long since set, and they walked and talked in the bright beams of the cruiser’s headlights. Angela was beyond the point of exhaustion when Officer Pettiworth advised he would come back the next day with some more police and a tow truck to finish the work.
    ****
    Antiseptic air prickled her nose, and her eyelids shot open. She was in a hospital! No, wait, it hadn’t been her car. She had stopped to help. Yes! That’s what happened.
    Officer Pettiworth hadn’t finished his questioning until late in the evening. She had gone into Mr. McAvoy’s room to make sure the stranger was settled. She sat in the chair to rest her eyes for a few minutes. Yeah, right. She frowned at the bright morning sun as it shone through the crack in the curtains. Just a few minutes! At some point, someone had even come in and covered her with a blanket.
    Quietly, so as not to wake the room’s other occupant, Angela stood and stretched her stiff back. She peeked over to the bed. Mr. McAvoy was gone.
    The bathroom door opened and Angela jumped. Out stepped her mystery man.
    “Good morning,” he said, his voice deep and powerful. The stranger’s gaze moved up and down her body.
    Go ahead, buddy. I get that at least ten times a day back in Vegas. “Good morning,” she replied, and took her turn to check him out.
    When she brought him in, Mr. McAvoy had been a mystery, covered head to toe; the only thing she knew for sure was that he was large and male. This morning, however, was a different situation entirely. The huge man in front of her wore a tight pair of black boxer briefs and his ribs were wrapped in white bandages. Other than that, he wore nothing. She’d guessed he was a solid muscular man from the fit of his jacket and jeans, but this morning’s attire left little to the imagination. Definitely male. And large. Wow!
    “Sorry, I had to ditch the hospital gown. I was getting all tangled in it. Don’t know how you women sleep in those things.”
    Angela realized she was staring, and forced her eyes up from his body to his face. A small V of golden brown hair sat below his bottom lip; this and his eyebrows gave the only hint to what his hair color might be. Handsome, bald, and undeniably strong, the man was built like a mixed martial arts champion. Better in fact.
    But his eyes—so much like Bobby’s. Pale blue eyes surrounded by long dark lashes studied her. Eyes she suspected often reflected the ferocity of their owner, but also hid a depth of love and loss.
    “I’m not a nurse,” she managed to say.
    “No, you’re my angel,” he said and continued to approach, stopping just close enough to be on the edge of what she considered her private space.
    “It’s Angela actually,” she replied, taking a small step