“The EMTs are here.” He heard Shelley’s voice as well. “Mace, let them see to Laurel. She’ll be taken care of as soon as you let her go. I know you want to hold her, but you need to let them do their job.”
Mace stopped resisting and allowed the medics to take Laurel.
Someone saw to his wounds. “That’s a nasty graze on your arm,” a young EMT said. Mace looked at his arm in surprise. He hadn’t even felt the sting of the bullet. The EMT applied antiseptic and pressed gauze over the wound at his temple and the graze on his arm, but Mace scarcely noticed.
How could he when every thought was with Laurel? Her courage had saved his life.
He saw her being lifted into a medevac chopper and tried to get to her.
“Let her go,” Jake said. “They’ll take care of her.”
“I need to go with her.” Once more, Mace made to start after her but was stopped with a large hand to his chest.
“You’re in no condition to go anywhere on your own.” Jake gestured to Mace’s head wound, which had started to bleed again.
Two EMTs helped him into an ambulance.
Mace felt every jolt of the ambulance as it bumped over the rough ground. He was grateful for the pain, as it reminded him that he was still alive. When he’d seen Laurel take those bullets—bullets meant for him—he’d thought his heart had stopped beating.
Prayers circled through his mind. Lord, take care of her. I failed her. I know I’ve got no right coming to You now after ignoring You for so many years, but I’m begging for Laurel’s life. That has to count for something. I’ve never begged before, but I am now. Laurel says that You hear every prayer, even from sinners like me. So please listen to this one.
He finished the prayer and felt a measure of peace.
As though he were emerging from a fog, he got out of the transport vehicle under his own steam. The EMTs tried to assist him, but he waved off their help.
At the hospital, Mace was whisked away to a cubicle. He hated the smell of hospitals, a stale antiseptic odor that stank of overripe flowers and despair.
An efficient-looking nurse pushed her way through the drawn curtains and began to examine his wounds.
He pushed aside the nurse’s hands. “I’ve got to get to Laurel. She’s my...” He searched for the right word to describe her. “She’s my partner.” She was also the love of his life, but he didn’t think the nurse cared about that.
“She’ll be taken care of. In the meantime, it’s my job to take care of you. You have a nasty gash on your head. It looks like someone pressed a cloth to it, but it’s bleeding through.” She nodded, drawing his attention to the blood-soaked gauze the EMT had applied. “So is your arm.”
“I was knocked out for a while. I probably have a concussion. Nothing serious.”
“Anything that starts with a bullet and ends with a concussion is serious. Now lie back and let me see to you. Or I can have two orderlies come in and hold you down. Condition you’re in, you couldn’t fight off a newborn kitten.”
She was right. The sooner he submitted to her ministrations, the faster he could see Laurel. He gritted his teeth. “Do what you have to.”
He scarcely felt the prick of the IV needle; nor did he feel the nurse poking around at his arm or seeing to his head.
“You’ll have to have an MRI for your head.”
“I don’t have time.”
“You’ll make time.” With a beehive hairdo, a build like a Sherman tank and arms folded over a massive chest, she looked like she could take on two Ranger units by herself and come out on top.
“Okay.”
“That’s better.”
He was wheeled to the room where the magnetic resonance imaging would take place.
A technician appeared shortly. “Let’s get this done.”
Mace couldn’t have agreed more.
“You have a concussion.” The technician took in Mace’s battered face and body. “But you already knew that.”
Mace refrained, barely, from saying “Told you so” to the nurse. That wouldn’t earn him any points.
She took him back to the cubicle. Finally, she appeared to be finished with him. “We’re going to give you something to help you sleep.” She pulled a syringe from a metal cart and plunged it into an IV tube.
Sleep? Was the woman crazy? He needed to see to Laurel. “How is she?” he managed to ask before the nurse plunged the needle into his arm.
“You’ll find out once you’ve rested.”
He tried to push her away, found that he couldn’t.
“What did I tell you? You’re as weak as a newborn kitten. And not nearly as cute.”
His last thought was of Laurel when he closed his eyes. He had a feeling that every thought for the rest of his life would be of her.
He slept, though he had no idea of how long. He awoke to find a doctor standing over him, examining his chart.
“How long have I been out?” His mouth was dry, and he had to try a couple of times before he could get the words out.
“Six hours.”
Six hours? How could that be? He’d just closed his eyes for a moment, hadn’t he?
Mace waved away the doctor’s attempt to comment on his own condition and asked about Laurel.
“I’m sorry. I can’t give out that information to someone who isn’t family.”
“Please. I’m the reason she’s here in the first place.”
The doctor looked undecided, then his face cleared. “As I said, I can’t give out that information, but if I could, I’d say that Ms. Landry should pull through. She has a nasty hole in her shoulder and another in her chest, but we’ve removed the bullets.” He shook his head. “I’m no expert, but I’d say bigger than a 9mm. Probably a .45 caliber.” Another shake of his head.
Mace marshaled his thoughts. “What about her shoulder?” He wet his lips. “She was hit by shrapnel overseas and was doing PT for it here at home.”
“I saw the damage.” The doctor’s voice had gentled. “I understand Ms. Landry was a Ranger.”
The use of the past tense wasn’t lost on Mace.
“That’s right,” he said. “Will she...” He knew the answer before he got out the rest of the words, but he had to ask. “Will she be able to return to her unit?”
“An Army doctor will have to make that determination, but I’m guessing not. Not with the damage her shoulder had already sustained and that of last night.”
“Thank you, doctor.”
“Don’t thank me. I heard that you were the one who put pressure on the wounds and staunched the blood. You saved her life with that.”
Mace didn’t deserve any credit. Laurel had saved his life with her heroic actions. Saved his life and cost her any possibility of returning to the Rangers.
He sank back against the mattress, giving himself a minute to take in what the doctor had told him. Relief that she would live rolled through him, quickly followed by a wave of guilt.
It wouldn’t be the first time he’d had to live with paralyzing guilt. It probably wouldn’t be the last. He tried to wrap his mind around that. No good. The guilt didn’t want to stay wrapped in a tidy bundle.
The curtain was pulled back. Jake, Shelley and Caleb stepped inside the cubicle. “You up for visitors?” Jake asked.
The last thing he wanted to do was to see his friends. They had to be blaming him just as he was blaming himself for what had happened to Laurel. But all he said was, “Sure. Come on in.”
Shelley’s eyes were filled with concern, as were those of Jake and Caleb. “You gave us a scare,” she said.
“I’m fine.” To prove it, he reached for the IV needle in an attempt to rip it out.
Jake pushed his hand away. “Don’t be stupid.”
“I want to see Laurel.”
“She’s still in reco
very,” Shelley said gently.
“I want to see her.”
“When the doctor says she’s ready.” Caleb favored Mace with a critical look. “No offense, buddy, but you look like the south end of a northbound mule.”
“I’m afraid he’s right, Mace,” Shelley added.
Jake nodded. “You don’t want to scare Laurel looking like you do now.” He held out a sack. “We stopped by your place and picked up some clothes for you. When you’re able to, you can change into something besides that hospital gown. Though you do look mighty cute in it.”
Mace tried to growl at his friend’s teasing, but unfortunately, it came out more like a kitten’s mewl.
Jake and Shelley chuckled; a few seconds later, Mace joined in.
“Where’s Sammy?”
“At our place,” Shelley answered, “with Tommy, Chloe and the nanny. He’s in good hands.”
Relieved that Sammy was being well cared for, he nodded. It couldn’t be put off any longer. “Have you talked with her doctor?”
Shelley’s expression turned serious. “Yes. He said that Laurel will be all right.”
“Did he tell you the rest?” Mace tensed. Here it came, the blame they would heap upon him. Blame he richly deserved.
“About her probably not being able to return to the Rangers? Yes.” Shelley took his hand. “She’s strong. She can live with that. The important thing is that she’ll live.” She gave his hand a little shake. “Do you hear that? She’ll live.”
There was no blame in her voice, nor in her eyes or those of his buddies.
“She’ll live,” Shelley repeated. “That’s all that matters.”
Mace held on to that.
“The doctor also said that you probably saved her life,” Shelley added, “staunching the blood the way you did.”
* * *
Three hours later, he felt a hand on his shoulder. “Mr. Ransom, you can see your friend now.”
See Laurel? He made to get up.
The nurse pushed a wheelchair forward. “You’ll need this.”
“I’m fine to walk.”
“You’re recovering from a concussion and a bullet wound.”
“Graze,” he corrected automatically.
“You will use the wheelchair.” Her voice brooked no argument. She helped him into the wheelchair, pushed him down a corridor and into Laurel’s room. “You have fifteen minutes. I’ll leave the door open. Call if you need something.”
The room was dimly lit. Monitors coughed and burped, registering vitals and spitting out information.
Mace let his eyes look their fill. She was pale. So pale. But he could see the quiet up-and-down movement of her chest, hear the soft wisp of her breathing. She’d be all right. As Shelley had said, that was all that mattered.
Shaking with the realization of what he’d almost lost, he let his head hang, braced his hands on his legs and worked to steady his breathing.
He didn’t hear the beep and whistle of the machines attached to Laurel. He didn’t hear the pad of rubber-soled shoes as they whispered over the linoleum floor. Nor did he hear the murmur of voices that buzzed behind him.
All he heard was the even sound of Laurel’s breathing. Everything else was just noise. There, in the hospital room, he prayed. He didn’t care who heard. Except for God. He hoped the Lord listened.
“Lord, thank You for giving Laurel back to me. Thank You. I don’t deserve Your love, but she does.”
He took a final look at her. Love filled him. He wheeled himself out of the room without glancing back.
Laurel was better off without him.
* * *
Laurel felt herself floating. Her thoughts hazed as she went in and out of consciousness. Had she heard someone praying? She wasn’t certain. How much time had passed?
An hour? A day?
She tried to remember where she was. She’d heard voices, commanding and urgent, calm and desperate mixed together. With a mighty effort, she managed to open her eyes momentarily and looked up to see a ceiling she didn’t recognize.
She would have laughed at herself if she’d been able, wondering about an unfamiliar ceiling. It took too much effort to keep her eyes open, and she felt them close. There, that was better.
More voices moved in and out of her hearing range. One stood out from the others. It was calling her name. Why wouldn’t her brain work? She managed to open her eyes for a nanosecond and registered tubes hooked up to her arm, another kind of tube in her mouth.
Her mouth and throat were unbearably dry. Was she in a hospital? She tried to focus. She’d been shot. Mace! Was he all right? Why couldn’t she remember? If she’d had the strength, she would have ripped out the tubes and found him.
At some point, she’d lifted her head and seen him. At least she thought she had. She struggled to replay the scene in her mind. Slowly, it came into focus.
She’d looked up to find his gaze resting on her. Softly. Gently.
“M...”
“Shh. Don’t talk. I’m here.”
He didn’t say anything more, only continued looking at her. The warmth in his eyes had wrapped her in a cocoon of safety. Why didn’t he say anything more? She longed to hear his voice, to know he was all right.
So tired. Her eyes closed. When she opened them again, he was gone. Hours had passed. Or maybe it was minutes. She couldn’t tell. Nurses came and went, checking on the tubes that hooked her to machines. One pointed a bright light in her eyes. She didn’t like that, tried to tell the nurse to stop doing it, but her words came out garbled.
“You’re doing just fine, Ms. Landry,” an unfamiliar voice said. “Doctor says you’ll make a full recovery.”
“G...good.” Laurel tried out her voice and was grateful to find it was working this time. She looked about for Mace. She’d hoped...prayed...he’d be there when she woke up.
“Mace?” she asked. “Mace Ransom. Is he here?”
“Mr. Ransom was released yesterday.”
“Yesterday?”
“That’s right.”
“Do you know if he came to see me?” Laurel heard the plea in her voice, but she had to know.
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve just been on duty for the last eight hours. But I heard someone say that Mr. Ransom had demanded to be released and checked himself out against the doctor’s orders.” The nurse gave Laurel a sympathetic look. With a final check of the monitors, she left.
Alone now, Laurel didn’t bother fighting the tears.
Sometime later—she must have slept again—Jake and Shelley showed up, arms laden with a huge teddy bear whose face bore a comic expression, and a box of chocolates.
Before she could thank them, Jake said, “The DNA results came, sis.”
It took a moment for her to process the words. “Sis? Like as in I’m your sister and you’re my brother?”
“Just like.”
“We always knew, you and I,” Shelley said to Laurel, then sent a smug glance in Jake’s direction.
Tears filled her eyes, tears of joy and gratitude this time. “That’s the most wonderful news I’ve ever heard.”
“We think so, too,” Shelley said.
“How long have I been here?”
“Going on two days,” Jake said.
Two days? Had it really been that long? Laurel tried to sit up, forgetting that she was tethered to a bunch of tubes connecting her to machines.
Gently, Shelley eased her back down. “You were out of it, sis. Did you forget that you were shot? Twice.”
“I’ve been shot before.”
“I’m sure you have. Doesn’t change the fact that getting shot knocks the stuffing right out of you.”
Memories of the time in the Collective’s camp pushed through the lingering fog of the last two days. “What happened to Jenni-Grace?”
“She’s in the county jail, awaiting trial,” Shelley said. “Seems she’s been doing some talking.”
“Bragging’s more like it,” Jake said. “According to one of my buddies, who’s a US Marshal, once she started talking, she couldn’t stop. Turns out that she was behind Ronnie’s arrest. She told the authorities where to find the evidence against him. She wanted him behind bars so she could take over. She was planning an accident for him in the not-too-distant future. He’d served his purpose, and she didn’t need him anymore.
“Turns out that she’s used the accident ploy before to get rid of people who were in her way, including her parents.”
“Her parents?”
Jake nodded. “She arranged for their boat to explode. She had an iron-clad alibi when the explosion occurred, so no one looked at her. The lady has a string of murders to account for.”
Shelley perched on the bed, careful of the tubes attached to monitors. “She can’t hurt you anymore, so put her out of your mind for now. We want you to come to work for us.”
“For S&J?”
“The very one.”
“Is this a pity job because I can’t be a Ranger anymore?” Laurel asked. No one had said anything, but she knew. Maybe she’d always known, but this latest injury to her shoulder had sealed it.
“Now that’s just stupid,” Jake said. “We want you because you’re a great operative. You’re smart, gutsy and don’t back down even when the odds are stacked against you.”
“Say yes,” Shelley implored. “S&J needs you. We need you.” She gestured to Jake, who stood at her side. “Tommy’s already talking about seeing his ‘Aunt Laurel.’”
“Shelley’s right,” Jake seconded. “We do need you. As an operative. And as our little sister. Somebody has to look out for you. We sort of thought Mace would be here and that you and he—”
Exasperation shone in Shelley’s eyes, and a taut silence stretched between the brother and two sisters. Laurel understood. They’d thought Mace would be around and he and she would look out for each other.
“He hurt you,” Jake said, mouth folding into a hard line.
“Hey, it’s okay,” she said, pushing out a smile to defuse Jake’s anger. “Mace and I are friends. He has no obligation to me, and I have no claim on him. So we’re good.” She was proud of the fact that she was able to get the words out without breaking down and crying like she wanted to.
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