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instead he said, “It means they’ll do everything they can to make sure she’s fine, buddy. They have science and medicine on their side, and from everything I could see myself, she looked good.”

      Xavier’s face screwed up like he was thinking about the lacking-of-promise answer, but when he spoke, it was to ask a seemingly random question. “Why are they saying your name?”

      Remo frowned. “What?”

      The kid aimed a thumb toward the hall. “Over the speaker thing. Like the one they have at kindergarten.”

      Remo cocked an ear. Sure enough, a second later, a crackling page came to life.

      “Remo DeLuca, if you’re in the hospital, please report to room 414. That’s Remo DeLuca to 414. Thank you.”

      Xavier’s face lit up with hope. “Do you think room 414 is my mom?”

      Remo ruffled the kid’s hair. “I sure do. And that’s good news, because 414 is the perfect room.”

      “It is?”

      “You bet. Should we put away the puzzle and go?”

      Xavier quickly swept the pieces into the box, then jumped up, visibly excited and truly childlike for the first time since Remo had met him. Smiling, he let the kid grab his hand and tug him into the hall. Room 414 truly was good news. It was in recovery, but not intensive care. If the medical staff had found any issues with Celia Poller’s well-being, they would’ve moved her to one of the wards that offered a better chance for one-on-one care. Knowing that lightened Remo’s own steps as he led the kid to the nearest staff-only elevator. He was gladder than would be expected of a stranger, and he was eager to speak to Celia.

      What would the woman have to say about her situation? He couldn’t help but wonder just how much she’d be willing to disclose. Maybe nothing. Maybe she’d see him as no more than the stranger he was. Or maybe—hopefully—he’d get lucky, and she’d choose him as a confidant. If she and her son were on the run, then there would be few people who understood it better than Remo did. The peculiar need to continue to help her and her son only strengthened as he acknowledged that his past had to be one of the main reasons behind it.

       But there’s a difference between admitting it to myself and saying it aloud to a stranger.

      He cast a glance down at the kid. The sandy-brown curls were pressed to the outside of Remo’s thigh, and the easy trust made his chest compress. What kind of man would he be if he didn’t make that trust worthwhile? Not the kind of man he wanted to be, that much was for sure.

      The elevator dinged then, and he started to move forward before realizing that he’d acquired a human ankle weight—the kid was standing up, but was also sound asleep. With a chuckle, he reached down and scooped the boy up. As Remo cradled him to his chest and stepped out of the elevator, Xavier barely did more than sigh. Even when someone tapped Remo’s shoulder and made him do a startled spin, the little guy didn’t stir.

      “Hey, DeLuca,” greeted the nurse attached to the hand that had made him jump. “I didn’t mean to scare y—whoa! Is that Celia Poller’s kid?”

      Remo looked down, then smiled and feigned surprise. “Well, I’ll be damned, Jane. Where did he come from?”

      The nurse rolled her eyes. “Pipe down, DeLuca. I’m just surprised to see that the patient’s claim about you having her kid was true. I wasn’t aware that you had any friends.”

      “I have you, don’t I?”

      “I’m friends with your mother. You’re just the leech along for the ride.”

      Remo’s smile became a grin. “Your bedside manner must be impeccable.”

      Jane’s eyes crinkled, but she put her hands sternly on her hips. “No complaints yet.”

      “Today or...”

      “I did say pipe down, didn’t I?”

      “Not sure. I’ve been told my listening skills aren’t great.” He paused, then turned serious. “How is she?”

      Jane studied him curiously. “She really is a friend?”

      Remo forced a casual-sounding evasion because it seemed odd to admit that not only was she not a friend, but that he didn’t know her at all. “Not on duty, so she can’t be a patient.”

      “Right. Well. Your friend is doing just fine. Worried about her kid and a little groggy and understandably confused, but aside from that, she’s all right. CT scan came back normal, so...” She shrugged. “You know the drill. And I won’t tell anyone if you wanna sneak a look at her chart.”

      “Thanks, Jane. Room 414?”

      “You got it.”

      He started to turn away, but the nurse’s voice stopped him. “Remo...”

      He braced himself for a comment similar to the one made by the hospital administrator. Something about the kid’s age or size. Instead, Jane met his eyes, bit her lip, and shook her head.

      “Nothing,” she said. “Just glad to see you’re not as friendless as I thought.”

      Remo swallowed. He tried to muster up a joke about Jane getting soft in her old age, but he couldn’t quite manage it. So he just nodded, then finished his turn, and made his way toward room 414.

      * * *

      If Celia hadn’t been stuck in her bed and attached to an IV, she would’ve paced the room a hundred times over. Maybe a thousand. It felt like a millennium since the page for Remo DeLuca had come through the speakers. Where was he? Did he have Xavier with him?

       Please, God, let him have Xavier. Because if he doesn’t...

      The thought trailed off. She closed her eyes. She refused to let her thoughts go to any kind of dark place. The blue-eyed paramedic would have her son. He’d bring him in. And then she’d take him far away from the hospital and whatever unknown danger it was that lurked on the frustratingly dim periphery of her mind.

      “Hurry up, Remo,” she murmured.

      “Don’t want to go too much faster or I might drop him.”

      The unexpected reply—spoken in a slightly dry, slightly familiar masculine tone—made Celia’s eyes fly open. And even though she was expecting him to be standing there, seeing the dark-haired, blue-eyed man in the doorway made her tongue stick to the roof of her mouth. When she’d seen him before, she’d been out of it, and he’d been either crouched down or sitting. Now that she was a little more lucid, and he was on his feet, she couldn’t help but note a few things. One, he was tall. Six-five, probably. Two, he was intimidatingly broad-shouldered. And three, he was breathtakingly handsome. The kind of man who would draw the attention of every woman within a three-mile radius. And his looks were so distracting that it actually took Celia a few heartbeats to clue in that what he’d said actually meant something—the “him” he’d mentioned was her son. Held tightly against his wide chest, his sandy-colored lashes fluttering against his freckled cheeks.

      “Xavier,” she murmured, her voice breaking with the one word.

      The big man stepped into the room, then to the edge of the bed. “You want to wake him?”

      Celia exhaled, then shook her head. She had no idea what time it was, but it was definitely well into the wee hours of the night. Xavier needed his rest. Especially since they were going to have to be on the move again. Soon.

      Swallowing against the ache in her throat, Celia met Remo’s eyes. “Could you maybe put him on the bed?”

      “Sure can,” replied the blue-eyed man.

      With more care than his big frame ought to have allowed, he leaned down and gently settled Xavier into the small space between Celia and the guardrail. She tried to offer him her gratitude,

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