“Thank you,” Rica said.

Tory gestured to the chart. “It says you have a headache.”

“Yes. An enormous one. I took some ibuprofen last night, but I don’t think that’s going to be enough today.”

“Do you have a history of headaches? Migraines?”

Rica started to shake her head, then stopped quickly with a wince. “No.”

“Any other symptoms besides the headache? Changes in vision…wavy lines, spots, blind areas?”

“No. I’m a little nauseated just at the moment. I’m sure if I can just get some sleep, I’ll be fine. I was hoping you could give me something for the pain.”

“Let me get a look.” Tory removed a small penlight from her lab coat pocket, examined Rica’s eyes, and then performed a complete head and neck exam. When she finished, she made a few notes, then set the chart aside. “How did you get the bruise on your cheek?”

Rica’s expression did not change as she contemplated Tory and the closed folder. The message was clear. Off the record. Not that it mattered, because she didn’t discuss private matters with strangers. She heard the words in her head and would have laughed if her face hadn’t been about to explode. When had she started lying to herself about herself? She had discussed a great many personal things with Carter with hardly a moment’s worry. She hadn’t even worried about letting her into her heart. Oh God, was that what she’d done? No. Of course she hadn’t. She might have been blinded by lust, but… She realized the doctor was waiting, regarding her with calm, accepting eyes. Whatever mistakes she’d made with Carter, she wouldn’t pretend it was only lust between them. That lie hurt too much. “Someone hit me.”

“When?”

“Last night.” Rica felt unexpectedly relieved at the opportunity to say the words out loud. She didn’t ask herself why, blaming the pain as an excuse for her lapse in caution.

“How many times?”

Rica thought back to the frantic encounter. She couldn’t remember the exact sequence, only her initial anger giving way to escalating panic. She hated him more for the fear than the violation of her body. He’d hit her when she’d struggled, and then again when she still wouldn’t give in. It was hard to remember it. Hard to relive it, but she recalled quite vividly the fury in Carter’s eyes as she’d confronted Enzo. And, after she’d hit him, the gentleness in Carter’s touch when she’d taken Rica into her arms. It was so much easier to recall the tenderness than the brutality. “Twice.”

“Did you lose consciousness?”

“No.”

“Has this person done this before?”

Rica grimaced. “No, he hasn’t.”

“Did you report it to the police?”

“No.” She met Tory’s eyes. “It’s a family matter.”

“Ms. Grechi,” Tory said gently, “in situations like thi…”

“Dr. King,” Rica said, “I know what the procedures are, and I know what you’re thinking. I’m not an abused partner. I don’t have a romantic relationship with this man and, believe me, I’m not trying to protect him. You’ll just have to believe me that it won’t happen again.”

“All right,” Tory said after a moment. Her new patient did not have the frantic, almost apologetic demeanor of the chronically abused. There was also something about her careful phrasing that made Tory believe this wasn’t the result of a love affair gone bad, either. “Did he assault you in any other way?”

Rica closed her hands tightly around the edge of the vinyl cushion that covered the examining table. She felt his hands on her thighs, his erection thrusting between her legs. She hated him and everything he represented in her life. His arrogant entitlement, his cruel dominance. All her life she’d lived in the shadow of men like Enzo. Her father was blind to the fact that his power made her nothing more than an object of desire, a prize to be won. Whereas his power defined him, it obliterated her. From the moment they’d met, Carter had seen only her, not Alfonse Pareto’s daughter. At least, that’s what she’d believed. Until this morning. Rica swallowed around the sudden constriction in her throat. Her voice was soft when she spoke. “No. He didn’t have a chance to.”

“But you believe you’re safe from him now?”

“Yes.”

Tory rested her fingertips on the chart and spun it slowly on the table, searching Rica’s face. “Part of your headache is due to the fact that your temporomandibular joint is badly inflamed as a result of the blows. I don’t see any evidence of intracranial injury, but you were lucky. The next time he could do far more serious damage.”

“It won’t happen again. Please take my word for that.”

“I can’t force you to file charges, and I do understand how difficult it can be, especially when it’s a family member. Will you call me if there’s another problem?”

Rica stared, surprised. “Why does it matter so much to you? You don’t know me.”

Tory smiled. “No, I don’t. But I care that someone hurt you, because no one has the right to do that.”

“Is it that simple for you?” Rica asked curiously. Nothing in her life had ever seemed to be black and white. Some of the things her father did for a living were illegal, but he was her father and she loved him. So she pretended that if she didn’t acknowledge what he did, she wouldn’t have to judge him. He had given her a life that appeared on the surface to be one of privilege, but underneath, it had been a prison. Carter had lied to her, and yet she’d felt more like herself with Carter than she ever had with another person. There was nothing simple about the truths of her life. “Do you always find the right and wrong of things so clear?”

“No, not always.” Tory’s eyes grew distant as she thought of Reese and wondered what she was doing at that moment. Some people believed soldiers like Reese blindly followed orders as if every decision was black and white, but Tory knew that wasn’t true. She could tell from their often aborted conversations that Reese questioned what she was doing in a country half a world away fighting for an agenda that was far from apparent. Reese believed in the ideals of the Marine Corps, but Tory knew her allegiance came with a personal price. Reese paid it, and so, now, did she. Tory looked into Rica’s eyes. “But this is one of those times when I think the right and wrong of it are very clear. He has no right to touch you, ever, unless you want him to.”

“It won’t happen again, but,” Rica said quickly, sensing Tory’s objection, “I’ll call you if I’m wrong.”

Tory nodded, satisfied. “Good. The medication I’m going to give you will make you sleepy. Do you have someone who can stay with you?”

“Yes,” Rica lied. Not anymore.

“Don’t take these until you get home if you’re driving.”

“No, I won’t. Thank you.”

As Tory wrote out the prescription, she said, “Call me tomorrow if the pain hasn’t improved or if your jaw gets stiffer. We may need to x-ray it.”

“Yes, of course,” Rica said, taking the prescription. “I appreciate your help.”

“Just take care of yourself, Ms. Grechi.”

“I will.” Rica made her way outside, steadfastly ignoring the pounding pain behind her eyes. Take care of yourself. Yes, that was just what she intended to do, and her first stop, even before the pharmacy, was going to be her gallery, where she kept a .25 caliber Beretta in the desk.

She was so focused on fighting off the headache until she could finish what she needed to do that she didn’t even notice the car that pulled out behind her again or the official-looking vehicle with the insignia on the doors that passed her on its way into the parking lot.

Tory didn’t look up at the sound of her office door opening, but continued making notes in a patient’s chart. “I’ll be ready for the next one in a minute.”

“Tory,” Randy said, his voice oddly hollow.

“Hmm,” Tory said tiredly, glancing toward the door. She dropped her pen and stood slowly, her eyes riveted on the man standing next to Randy in the doorway. She’d heard his voice several times over the phone, but she’d never seen him. He was very handsome, and with his dark black hair, laser-bright blue eyes, and strong bold features, he looked more like Reese than she’d expected. The chin was different; that Reese got from her mother. “Oh my God.”

The officer in the impeccable uniform smoothly closed the office door as Randy reflexively stepped back into the hall. Then he advanced swiftly until he was standing opposite Tory with his hand extended. His voice was a rich baritone. “Dr. King, I’m General Roger Conlon.”

Tory recognized the large gold ring with the Marine Corps insignia he wore on his right hand. Reese had one just like it, but she didn’t wear it. She kept it in a box in the top drawer of her dresser. She didn’t wear any jewelry, except for her wedding ring. Tory couldn’t bring herself to take his hand. She didn’t want him in her office. She didn’t want him in her life. She didn’t want him to say whatever he had come to say.

“I know who you are.” Tory braced her fingertips against the top of the desk. Her arms were shaking. She stared into his eyes, which were cool and unwavering. Hers stung with fury. “You couldn’t be bothered to come here before, when she was happy. When we were happy. Don’t you dare come in here now and tell me she’s dead.”

“We have no confirmation that is the case.” Not a muscle in his handsome face flickered. His voice was smooth and hard as granite. “I am here to inform you that Colonel Conlon is missing in action.”

Missing in action. What did that mean? That she was dead but they couldn’t find her body? That she was lost in the desert without radio contact? No, it couldn’t be something as simple as that, or he wouldn’t be there. It was something worse. Something she didn’t want to know. She wanted him gone. She wanted his war to be gone. She wanted Reese at home where she belonged, with the people who loved her, doing the work that mattered to so many every day. She wanted Reese beside her in the night, holding the baby, guiding Bri into adulthood with a sure and steady hand. She wanted her lover, her partner, her love, in her arms.