He rolled off her, still keeping his hand tight around her wrist. Mira gasped in relief from having his weight off her and tried to yank her arm away, which only succeeded in hurting her shoulder. She had the knife, but she couldn't use it.

Mira focused on a chip in the wall in front of her, holding onto every shred of willpower she had to stay conscious.

"Don't pass out," said Jack. "You need to stay awake.”

No shit, she wanted to say, but she couldn't make the words come. Her life probably depended on staying conscious.

"Look, I'm here to help you. Those men out there in the hallway, they've been following you. We need to get out of here before more muscle shows up. There's a lot to explain and I can't do it now. Just know that I'm here to protect you. Understand?" He sounded like he was talking to a three-year-old.

"Why . .. should I trust... you?" she pushed out in a breathy voice, still focusing on the chip in the wall.

"Because you don't have a choice. Now, I'm going to let your wrist go. You can keep the knife if you're so attached to it. I don't think you're in any condition to use it anyway.”

He had a point.

Jack released her wrist, and she made a clumsy lunging swipe at him anyway. He jerked back at the last second. The tip nearly grazed his throat.

"Whoa. Maybe I was wrong," he muttered. He grabbed her arm, plucked the knife from her fingers, and threw it across the room.

Mira stared at her out-of-reach weapon with dismay.

Jack grasped her around the waist with unsettlingly large, strong hands and hauled her across his lap. She clutched his shirt. For a moment she struggled against him and then went still. Her head had never hurt as badly as this. She couldn't even draw a breath without pain. Did she have a concussion? Did she need to go to the hospital?

"Why are you doing this?" she gasped.

He stared down at her with stunning blue eyes. It seemed a strange thing to be noticing at the moment, but this was a strange situation. "I told you. I'm protecting you, Mira," he answered in a tender voice that seemed at odds with his brusque demeanor.

Mira blinked and the light-headedness grew more intense. Jack tightened his arms around her, his expression concerned. He felt warm and he smelled sexy. Irrationally, she enjoyed the feel of him against her.

Plus, there were two of him. That made it extra nice.

Her head lolled as unconsciousness threatened.

"Shit," he breathed. "Mira?”

Darkness.

* * *

Jack looked down at the woman in his bed. She looked so small and fragile in the king-size four-poster. Her oval face appeared pale, and a huge bruise had bloomed on her forehead. She still wore her pink uniform from the diner and sensible white work shoes.