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side wall facing the door. “Captain, can you grab me a couple of extra pillows from in there?"
    "Sure.” Eric retrieved two pillows and handed them over. “Is this enough?"
    "Yes, thanks.” Larry positioned them behind her back for support.
    Eric returned to his seat and watched the doctor listen to her heart and lungs. Eric absorbed Abby's soft, quiet voice into his memory as she patiently answered the doc's questions.
    At long last, Larry nodded and removed the IV needle. He smoothed the tender spot with his thumb. “You're doing great. I want you to get some rest.” He gave her a quick warm smile then moved over to the counter and pulled open the secured drawer to put away the equipment. He secured each drawer and cupboard, so that nothing would fly out from the constant movement of the ship. Finally, he strode to the door and left without a backward glance. “I'll be in the mess hall if I'm needed."
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    Chapter Five
    Eric stood beside Abby's bed, arms crossed, listening for the solid thud of the closing door. He looked down at the questioning look that lingered in her eyes. Offering a warm smile of reassurance, he pulled up a chair. His knees pressed against the edge of the bed. He leaned forward to rest his forearms on his knees, closing the distance between them to mere inches. “Abby, it's time you tell me what happened."
    A stark paleness washed over her face as her fingers closed to clutch the blanket in a white-knuckled grip.
    He reached out and covered her tiny balled-up fists with one large hand, then gently lifted her chin and waited until she peered at him through those thick lashes. “It's okay. Whatever happened, you can tell me. Please trust me."
    The sound of his voice was soft yet powerful, the words conveying his promise. Eric's eyes appeared to darken in intensity as they bore into hers. The genuine sincerity rendered her speechless. Trembling, her eyes began to moisten and she struggled for the strength and confidence to open up.
    He kept a firm hold on her hand.
    A lone tear escaped her creased eyes. Its heat trailed a path down her cheek. She opened her eyes, frightened, unsure of where she would find the words to relay her horrific story.
    Then it happened. The words began to flow. First, words about her beloved grandmother and the constant dark cloud threatening their oh-so-precious peace. It was terrifying to speak so freely, to be stripped naked and vulnerable before this veritable stranger.
    Funny though, it truly felt like she'd known him forever.
    The tears flowed along with the words. After a while, she gave up trying to stem the tide. She recounted the details: her grandmother dying, the feelings of abandonment, and a determination to find her place in this world. The impulsive decision to escape her life, the way it was then, to leave Seattle, and travel around Europe.
    Finally she told him about Paris and that fateful night when she went out for a walk, stopping at a nightclub close to the hotel where she was staying. What happened next changed her life forever. “When I walked out I didn't know I'd been followed. At least I think I was; it happened so fast. A car pulled up. I was grabbed from behind by a big man and forced into the car."
    "You don't have to say this if it hurts."
    Breathing deeply, Abby was suddenly desperate to finish. In short, rapid-fire sentences she told him of the days she spent tied up, wearing a hood over her head. Then—she didn't know how much later—she'd been moved into the back of a vehicle. She'd been overwhelmed with fear. The angry men spoke in a strange, unfamiliar, clipped language, which she knew now was Arabic. How she begged and pleaded for them to let her go, asking them who they were and what they wanted with her. After several days of riding in the car, they dumped her into a room, saying she was now a gift to a great man. His property, to do with as he saw fit.
    "I-I was never so frightened in my life.