Her heart beating too fast, she hurried out into the bedroom to look at her body in the full-length mirror. There was an angry bruise in the middle of her back and multiple purple streaks on her right shoulder. Moving her head from side to side, she lifted her chin, pressing her throat with the pads of her fingers.

Scolding herself as her bottom lip began to tremble, she pulled on the tracksuit, thankful for its comforting softness. She should be grateful she was alive, raiding the mini bar and soaking in a hot bath, not wallowing in self-pity. But no matter what she did, the threat of Heidi Lorrimer stayed with her.

Leaving the light burning in the bathroom, she slipped between the chilly sheets, her tears hot, her body freezing despite the bath. She’d been in such a hurry to escape the bathroom mirror she’d forgotten to blow-dry her hair.

A faint tap at the door made her sit up. It had to be Mitch. Who else would be crazy enough to walk outside at one in the morning when it was zero degrees wearing . . .?

Sterling hurried to the door. ‘Yes?’

‘It’s me. I don’t need to come in. I’m just checking that you’re okay.’

Sterling reached up to unlock the door, her fingers stiff and sore from fighting for her life. Her life. She still had it. And the guy standing outside was one of the best things in it.

Fumbling with the latch, she managed to get the door open. Flowers was standing there, still in his clothes from today, a stiff breeze lifting his hair.

‘I don’t think I’m okay,’ she said.

He nodded and came into the room, turning to close the door.

‘I keep seeing her face, flashing in front of my eyes; she has the syringe in her hand.’

‘You should get into bed, Nerida. Don’t worry, I’ll stay here. I’ll sleep in the other bed.’

Sterling did as he said and crawled beneath the covers.

‘Now turn the other way,’ he said.

She rolled over, smiling at little at his good manners. She’d already seen him naked, but she appreciated the respect he showed her. She heard the closet door opening, heard him hanging up his clothes.

‘Mitch,’ she said when she heard him sit down on the bed. ‘Can I turn over now?’

‘Sure.’

He was wearing one of the motel’s white bathrobes.

‘I’m so cold. I need someone to hold me,’ she said, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice. ‘No, I need you to hold me.’

He stood up and took a slow step towards her.

Sterling pushed back the covers so he could slide into bed beside her.

Forty-seven