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“Your wound has gotten infected.” He sounded so upset she squinted to look at him. “We need to get you to the closest hospital.”

“Just clean it up again.” She waved a weak hand. She didn’t want to move, much less go to the hospital. “I’ll be fine.”

“I will clean it, but that’s not good enough.” He jumped up to get water, soap, and towels from the kitchen. “Your fever is too high. You need antibiotics right away.”

She swallowed a groan, although she had to admit that she should have considered the possibility her wound had gotten infected. No wonder she felt so hot and cold. Not to mention weak and sick to her stomach.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as he cleaned the gash on her temple.

“It’s not your fault. It’s mine.” His tone was curt, and she felt bad that he was blaming himself.

“I’m the one who was in the river.” At least, she assumed that was how she’d gotten drenched.

“I should have forced the issue of you going to the hospital right away.” He used a soft towel to pat the wound dry. Then he took her wrist in his hand. It took a minute for her to realize he was checking her pulse. “Your heart rate is high. I’m afraid the infection has gotten into your bloodstream.”

He made it sound serious, so she forced herself to sit up. Truthfully, she felt awful, so maybe he was right to insist she go in. “Fine. But where is the closest hospital?”

“I’m not sure. But I’m tempted to take you back to Lexington.” His brow furrowed with concern. “A bigger medical center is better equipped to handle medical emergencies. And I’d also like to keep the safe house location here in Nicholasville a secret if they are tracking your name somehow.”

“Whatever you think is best.” She couldn’t argue even if she had the energy, which she didn’t. Given a choice, she would have curled up on the sofa for a nice, long nap.

“I should have looked at the wound earlier.” His voice betrayed his self-recrimination. “Before we left the city. It will take us at least thirty minutes or more to get back.”

“It’s my fault. I wasn’t feeling well but didn’t mention my symptoms.” She pushed herself to her feet with an effort. “Blame me.”

“I’m the medic.” He put his arm around her waist, supporting her. “Can you walk?”

“Of course.” She was determined to avoid being carried. Much like that first night that they’d escaped the gunmen.

A muscle ticked at the corner of his mouth, but he didn’t say anything more as they headed back outside to the white Chevy Malibu. The overcast sky earlier had grown even darker and more ominous. The first fat raindrops hit the car as they left the rental property.

She rested her head against the passenger-side window and closed her eyes, lulled in part by the rain and the rhythmic windshield wipers. Doc seemed to be going faster now than he had on the way to the safe house. He was probably overreacting. The emergency department doc would likely give her a prescription for antibiotics and send them on their way.

“We might have a shorter wait time if we go to an urgent care.” She cracked one eye open to look at him.

“That’s not an option, especially if the infection has gotten into your bloodstream.” His expression was grim. “Septic shock is very serious. I’m sure they’ll infuse IV antibiotics.”

She frowned, then closed her eyes again. Maybe he was right.

“Besides, you still have amnesia,” he added. “It’s well past time to have a neurologist examine you.”

“Okay.” It was easier to go along with his plan. She tried to sleep, but the bright lights of the traffic around them was distracting.

Then the lights grew brighter. Lifting her head, she realized Doc had gotten to the Lexington Medical Center in record time.

With his strong arm supporting her, they walked through the rain that had slowed to a drizzle to head into the emergency department. The place was so busy she was convinced they’d be stuck waiting for hours.

“This is Fiona Murphy. She has a head injury resulting in amnesia. And the wound on her temple is infected. Her pulse is tachy at 104, and I don’t know how high her fever is, but she’s burning up.”

The information seemed to get the nurse’s attention. “Let’s get you into the triage area.”

Less than a minute later, she was stretched out on the gurney with the nurse peering at her pupils, then listening to her heart and lungs. Turned out, Doc was right. The nurse used an ear probe to check her temperature.

“One hundred and three point four.” The nurse sounded impressed. “I’m going to start an IV here, then we’ll get you back into a room.”

Doc hovered in the background, his expression still looking grim. She offered a reassuring smile. “I’ll be fine.”

His dark gaze did not soften one iota.