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wasn't likely she'd want some stranger intruding on her. Devlin's fingers tightened over the edge of the doorway as the soft sobbing started again.
    Go back to bed. It's not your problem. Mind your own business.
    But he couldn't turn away. There was something so completely hopeless in the sound of her tears. It tugged at emotions he'd thought beaten out of him a long time ago.
    She was nothing to him. A stranger. Tomorrow she'd be gone, and the day after, forgotten. Whatever her sorrows, they were nothing to do with him.
    His knuckles turned white with strain as he stood in the doorway. The sound of her crying brought back all the empty, frightened nights he'd spent in his life. Starting when he was a boy, lying in bed, smarting from the bite of his father's belt and gritting his teeth against the tears he was too stubborn to shed.
    He knew what it was to be alone, to feel hopeless. He'd felt the despair he could hear in her tears. And he couldn't just walk away and leave her alone.
    His movements stiff, Devlin crossed the room to the bed. She seemed unaware that she was no longer alone. The quiet crying continued. He half expected her to tell him to go away. The sort of grief expressed in her tears was not the sort that invited company.

    But she said nothing when he stopped beside the bed, made no acknowledgment of his presence. In the moonlight that filtered through the dissipating cloud cover, Devlin understood why.
    She was still asleep. Her face was twisted with anguish, her fingers knotted on the light blanket, but her eyes were closed and it was obvious that she was not awake.
    Devlin reached out to wake her but drew his hand back without touching her. Somehow, knowing that she was asleep made her tears seem more poignant. Her pain must run very deep to follow her past the boundaries of sleep.
    Hardly knowing why he did it, Devlin found himself bending to gather her slight figure up off the bed. Blanket and all, he lifted her into his arms. The sobbing stopped on a caught breath. He waited for her to wake, perhaps frightened or angry at finding herself held by a strange man.
    But she didn't wake. After a moment's stillness, she turned her face into his collarbone, her thin body relaxing in his hold. One hand came up to rest against his bare chest, her fingers cool on his skin. There was so much trust in the small movement that Devlin felt a quick catch in his heartbeat. His arms tightened protectively around her.
    "Fool," he whispered. She didn't know whose arms were around her. She didn't know him at all. Perhaps she sensed that she was no longer alone, but it didn't matter whether it was Devlin Russell who held her or Joe Smith.

    Cursing the soft streak that should have been smothered years ago, Devlm eased down onto the bed with her still in his arms. She didn't wake as he bunched the pillows up behind his back. In fact, she simply relaxed more fully, her breathing deeper now, though still shaken by an occasional half sob.
    Devlin leaned his head back against the wall and stared into the darkness. Twenty-four hours ago, he'd never heard of Annalise St. John. Twenty-four hours from now, she'd be out of his life forever and forgotten soon after that. But for now, he was willing to stand between her and whatever darkness was threatening her.

    Chapters
    Annalise woke slowly, aware of the soft comfort of clean sheets, the warmth of sunshine spilling across the bed. It had been weeks since she'd slept in a real bed. She felt a vague curiosity about her surroundings, but it faded before it could really take hold.
    Her eyes still closed, she tried to retreat back into the comfort of sleep, but her body wouldn't cooperate. She was awake, whether she liked it or not. Not that it made an enormous difference. Awake or asleq), the world felt more or less the same.
    She opened her eyes and stared up at the open beams above her. Open as in unfinished ceilings, she noted, her gaze skimming over the unfinished plywood and