Then she remembered the helicopter crashing, remembered jerking Jason into her arms and running as hard and fast as she could through the cane field, away from the smoking aircraft. The explosion…Sabra’s brows knit at the memory. She recalled the heat rolling across her, recalled pressing Jason hard against her chest to protect him from flying debris. And then a white-hot sensation had slammed into her neck, making her drop him. It was the last thing Sabra recalled: falling in slow motion to the muddy, wet ground and hearing Jason screaming her name.
“I think she’s coming awake.”
Sabra heard Laura’s tremulous voice and felt her hand on her shoulder. Her whole focus swung to Craig’s touch, which never left her hand.
“I think so, too,” he murmured.
Craig’s voice was low and off-key. Sabra felt the warmth of his mouth press briefly against her brow. She absorbed his unexpected kiss, feeling a joy and lightness flow through her. How she loved him!
Where was she? Was he all right? And Jason? Those anxious questions forced her to barely open her eyes. The first person she saw was Craig, looking down at her, worry in his dark, exhausted gaze. She was alarmed at the bloody scabs on the right side of his face, the redness in his eyes, as if he’d been crying, and the tortured line of his mouth. Opening her lips, she tried to speak, but only a whisper of sound came forth.
“Ssh,” Craig said, squeezing her hand gently, “don’t try to talk, sweetheart. We’re all safe. You’re going to make it.” He tried to smile and failed, drowning in her shadowy gray eyes.
“Thank God,” Laura whispered, leaning over and touching her shoulder, “you’re going to be fine.”
Sabra divided her limited attention between them, as they stood on either side of her bed. Laura looked gray with fatigue, her eyes red rimmed, filled with tears. Only Jason’s bubbly smile encouraged her. The boy leaned over and placed a very wet kiss on her cheek.
“Get well, Auntie S! Mommy says you get to come home with us. We get to fly in Daddy’s airplane!”
Sabra’s mouth pulled into a slight smile, and she held Jason’s sparkling, shiny gaze. Of all of them, he looked the least damaged by what had happened. She found it hard to believe that he could spring back so quickly from the kidnapping. Perhaps that was a testament to his youth—his small, innocent view of the world. Craig’s fingers interlaced with her own, and she slowly moved her head to meet his blue gaze. The warmth in his eyes, the unabashed welcome for her alone, made her try to smile again. Weakness spread through her, and though she wanted to speak, it was impossible.
“Honey,” Laura said to her son, “I think Auntie S wants to sleep now….”
“Ahh, Mommy, I want to tell her what happened!”
“Not now, honey. Come on, let’s leave Craig to stay with Auntie S. Come on….”
Craig watched Laura pick up her son and leave the room. He brought a chair over to Sabra’s bedside and sat down. Stillness fell over the room, and only her soft, shallow breathing could be heard. At least the beeps and sighs of the multitude of ICU instruments and monitors were gone. In twenty-four hours, Sabra had gone from critical to serious. No one had breathed a greater sigh of relief than Craig. Gently, he slid her hand between his again and held it. Her flesh was still cool to the touch.
When Sabra’s lashes moved, he realized she hadn’t fallen back asleep. Clearing his throat, he rasped, “Can you hear me, Sabra?”
She squeezed his hand weakly. Did Craig realize how wonderful it was to be touched by him? To hear his roughened voice once again? Did he know how much she’d feared for his life? Tears stung her eyes, and she felt them bead and slip down the sides of her face. She felt Craig release her hand. Then his trembling fingers eased the tears from her cheeks.
“It’s okay,” he said unsteadily. “Everyone is okay, Sabra. You’re the one we were worried about.” He hesitated. “Worry wasn’t even close, sweetheart. God, I thought you were going to die out there in the cane field. I was so scared. So damned scared, Sabra.”
What little strength she had she used to open her eyes again. She saw the tortured look in Craig’s gaze, felt the terrible pain in his voice and in his hand as he barely touched her arm once more. She wanted to ask questions, but the weakness claimed her, and all she could do was surrender to that white cloud of light. As she drifted away, she could hear Craig speaking to her, but the words became garbled and distant. Right now, she needed to sleep.
Craig sat for a long time just watching Sabra sleep. Had she heard him? He’d quietly told her he loved her, but he wasn’t sure if she’d understood. Dr. Parsons had warned him that the first twenty-four hours, Sabra would sleep a great deal, mostly due to the shock and trauma of the surgery, as well as getting rid of the anesthesia in her system.
He studied her fingers in the silence, looking at the wedding ring on her left hand. It was a fake one, of course, for the mission. She’d never taken it off even though their cover had been blown after the first day. Was that a fluke? Had she worn it for other reasons? His wistful side, which was working overtime lately, said that she wore it because she loved him, wanted him for her husband someday.
With a soft snort, Craig eased out of the chair and placed Sabra’s limp hand across her blanketed form. The day was coming to a close, the sunlight streaming through the venetian blinds, creating bars on the opposite wall. The door opened and he looked up. Dr. Parsons gestured for him to come into the hall.
Outside, Craig noted that she was back in her blouse and slacks. He wondered briefly why Ann, who was certainly attractive, had never married. He knew little of her, knew little of the reasons why she’d gone to work for Perseus. Maybe Morgan had known her before he’d formed the company.
“I just got a call from Jake,” Ann said, walking with him down the long hall, “and he wants all of us to come back as soon as possible. I told him Sabra needed another twenty-four hours before she could be moved.”
“I don’t think it’s safe to stay here,” he agreed, his gaze constantly roving up and down the hall. When Killian wasn’t keeping guard on Sabra’s room, he was. They took turns every twelve hours to ensure that Garcia wouldn’t get to her and finish the job. Nowhere was safe.
“Jake is worried about that, too,” Ann continued in a low voice. She clasped her hands behind her back as she walked. “The FBI has apparently found a leak in the Maui police department.” She traded a frown with him. “Sam Chung is a mole for Garcia.”
Groaning, Craig halted and thrust his hands onto his hips. “We stepped right into the middle of it, didn’t we?”
“Yes, you did. Jake said to tell you that you did a good job. He’s as relieved as we are that Sabra’s going to recover. Right now, the Honolulu police are investigating Chung. They placed a wire tap on his phone and monitored several calls to Garcia’s estate. It’s a good thing you never went back to the Westin. Jake thinks they were waiting for you.”
Grimacing, Craig nodded. “We just kept moving around, Ann. A different room every night, under different names. It worked, thank God.”
She smiled absently and halted in the middle of the hall. “Listen, I know you’ve got a lot on your shoulders right now….”
“What do you mean?”
With an embarrassed smile, Ann said, “With Sabra, I mean. You do care for her, don’t you? At the crash site I saw the look on your face, heard the tone of your voice….”
“Yes,” Craig rasped heavily, “there’s something there, Ann. But I don’t want it all over the place. I haven’t even had time to talk to Sabra. I don’t need gossip floating around.”
Touching his arm, she said, “If Killian suspects anything, he’s keeping it to himself. It’s just that I saw the look in your eyes…”
Crossing his arms, he leaned against the wall and studied her. “What are you leading up to?”
“Sabra is going to need some care when we get her back to the mainland. I thought…well, since you do care for her, that perhaps she could stay at your apartment for
a couple of weeks. That artery in her neck was partly severed. We’ve sewn it back together, and all should go well, but she has to really take it easy. If she should fall, or make some kind of quick, jerking motion, she could rip it open again and—”
“I understand,” he rasped. What would Sabra say to such a plan? he wondered. “What if she doesn’t want me to play nursemaid?”
“Then she’ll have to stay in the hospital for the next week, and have a full-time nurse for the week after that.”
“I see. Well, let me ask her, okay? I don’t take anything for granted anymore.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “Just let me know. I’ll have to call an ambulance once we land back in Washington. Listen, I’ve got to go check on Laura now. She’s got me worried.”
Laura was looking extremely thin and nervous, Craig agreed silently. “She looks like she’s ready to break.”
“I know,” Ann whispered, frowning. “I hate to prescribe more tranquilizers for her, but I don’t know how long she can go on this way. She’s lost ten pounds so far, and she’s eating next to nothing. She doesn’t sleep, and when she does nap, she gets nightmares about the rape.”
He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Take it from someone who knows about nightmares. Just let her talk. It helps a lot.”
Gratefully, Ann reached out and touched his arm. “Thanks, Craig. I hope Sabra knows what she has.”
Stymied by that last comment, Craig watched the physician hurry down the hall toward the elevators. With a sigh, he turned and went back to Sabra’s room. It was his turn to watch her. Not that he minded. He really didn’t want to be anywhere else, anyway. He hoped Sabra felt similarly. A part of him waited in anxious frustration for when she’d be completely conscious so that they could talk. Would Sabra want to stay at his apartment and allow him to help her through her next two weeks of recovery? He’d never wanted anything more. But what did Sabra want?
Chapter Thirteen
“You look a hundred percent better this morning,” Craig exclaimed, greeting Sabra with a smile. He’d just gotten up after sleeping deeply for six hours, and Killian had given up his post outside her hospital door in exchange for a hot cup of coffee.
Sabra gazed up at Craig as he approached her hospital bed. It was 8:00 a.m., and the nurse had awakened her to give her some medication. He had recently showered and shaved and was dressed in a bright purple-and-white Hawaiian print shirt, stuffed haphazardly into a pair of tan chinos. She hungrily absorbed the sight. “I like your new fashion,” she teased weakly, her voice rough from disuse.
Craig stopped and looked down at his shirt. “Oh, this—yeah,” he murmured, touching it with his hand, “I was in a hurry to get some clean clothes, so I bought the first thing this Hawaiian lady thought I’d look good in, at a shop just outside the hospital.” He grinned, a little embarrassed. “Think purple’s my color?”
“It looks good on you.” She wanted to say he looked good in everything—and nothing.
When Craig saw the corners of her mouth lift slightly, his heart took a powerful leap in his chest. Halting at the edge of the bed, he placed his cup of coffee on the nightstand.
“That looks good, too,” she noted hopefully.
“What? The coffee?”
“Yes.”
He grinned a little, drowning in her clear, gray eyes, in the warmth spinning in their depths. This morning Sabra wasn’t so pale. She was completely conscious, and inwardly, he heaved a huge sigh of relief. Resting his hands on the bar along the bed, he said, “So you’re getting hungry?”
“Starved,” Sabra admitted wryly.
“When did you wake up?”
“The nurse got me up to take some medication about half an hour ago.”
Craig couldn’t help himself. Reaching out, he gently stroked her hair, which needed to be combed. He watched as her lips parted softly at his touch. To hell with it. Leaning over, he captured her mouth with his own. Never had she felt so good to him, her lips pliant beneath his, giving as well as taking—a far cry from two days ago, when she’d lain cool and nearly lifeless. Gently, he moved his lips against hers, tasting her, giving back to her, breathing into her his urgent desire for her not only to live, but to gather strength from him. They were wet and warm beneath his, and he felt her weakly lift her hand to place it on his shoulder. Though he longed to deepen the exploration, Craig cautioned himself. A fire of aching need grew in his lower body. The urgency to wrap Sabra around him and love her slowly and thoroughly, nearly caused him to lose control.
As Craig eased his mouth from hers, he opened his eyes and stared down into her lustrous gray ones. The words I love you, were almost torn from him, but he bit them back for now. Giving her a slight smile, he rasped, “Welcome back, sweetheart. I was so scared I was going to lose you….”
Shaken, Sabra felt Craig wrap his hand around hers. “The nurse told me I almost died,” she quavered, absorbing his nearness and warmth. The burning look in his eyes was unmistakable, and Sabra knew the feeling she had flowing through her was love. Real love. Swallowing against a dry throat, she added, “I don’t remember much, Craig….”
With a grimace, he straightened up and continued to hold her cool hand in his. “Maybe it’s just as well. I’m sure it will all come back to you soon enough.”
“Jason?”
“He’s fine. Laura’s here, too. They visited you yesterday, but you were still coming in and out of consciousness.”
“I remember voices.” She smiled weakly. “I remember your voice and your touch, though.”
“That’s a good sign,” Craig said, heartened. Gathering what was left of his courage, he said, “Today Dr. Parsons wants to fly all of us home, including you. She says you can travel. There’s only one slight problem.”
“What?” Sabra saw the darkening in his eyes and heard reservation in his voice.
“She says you need two weeks of rest and close watching. With that artery mending, you can’t be doing the normal things you’d do at home by yourself.”
Wrinkling her nose, Sabra muttered, “I won’t stay in a hospital, Craig.”
Giving her a hopeful look, he placed his hand on top of hers. “Would you settle for my place? For me helping you out when you need help?”
Stunned, Sabra stared up at him. She saw the hope in his eyes and saw him trying to steel himself for her rejection. The idea shocked her only from the standpoint that she’d never in her wildest dreams have expected such an offer. “Well,” she stammered, “can—can you stand me underfoot for two weeks?”
Heartened, Craig rasped, “Sweetheart, I want you around for a lot longer than two weeks. I don’t want to push you into what I want, though. This is your call.”
If only they weren’t here, in a busy hospital. Sabra’s smile was tremulous with emotion. “If you’ll have me, I’ll come home with you….”
On the way home in the jet, Sabra dozed. The gurney was in the rear of the plane, in a special area where it could be locked into the bulkhead, much like a seat. Dr. Parsons had come back to check the IV drip, had arranged her blankets to make sure she was comfortable, then had gone forward to be with Laura, Jason, Killian and Craig. Somewhere below was the Pacific Ocean, but Sabra couldn’t see much from her makeshift bed. The vibration of the jet surrounded her, and this time it was a lulling sensation.
She watched through half-closed eyes as Jason huddled in Laura’s arms. He seemed the least affected by the trauma they’d survived, but Sabra worried for the child, who seldom left his mother’s side. More than once she’d heard Jason ask where his daddy was and seen Laura wrestle with an appropriate answer that gave some of the truth, but not enough to shake the boy up.
One of the two pilots came back, making his way through the narrow cabin. Sabra liked him. He was a hard-looking ex-Air Force fighter pilot by the name of Sloan MacKinley. The coffeepot was near her bed, and he nodded in her direction as he stopped and poured two cups of coffee.
“You want any, Sabra?”
He turned and studied her, both cups of coffee in hand. “You look a little lonely back here. Maybe I ought to get someone to keep you company?”
“That’s okay….” Sabra was amazed that MacKinley, who had a rough-hewn face, possessed such sensitivity. But why should it surprise her that some men had this sort of intuitive knowing? Craig possessed it, though at the moment, he was exhausted and sleeping in his seat. She didn’t blame him for not realizing how lonely she felt. Looking up into MacKinley’s narrowed green eyes, she saw care radiating from them. He was a relatively new employee with Perseus, and she knew little about the man. But then, Sabra realized that those who joined Morgan’s organization usually had a lot to hide, one way or another.
“We’ll be landing in San Francisco in a couple of hours,” MacKinley said, sipping his coffee. “Then we’ll refuel and head for D.C. I imagine you’ll be glad to get home.”
“More than you’ll ever know.”
“Yeah, hospitals suck, as far as I’m concerned.” He managed to lift one corner of his thin mouth. “Gotta get back up to the cockpit. Richmond doesn’t do well without his IV of coffee every hour.”
It hurt to laugh, but Sabra did anyway. MacKinley’s wry sense of humor was typical of military pilots. He was a lean man, reminding her of a hungry wolf on the prowl. She saw a lot of Josh in him, with his teasing, and the same basic build. On the way up the aisle, balancing the cups of coffee, the pilot slowed his pace and look intently at Dr. Parsons. He hesitated, evidently thought better of stopping, then moved on by her. Sabra wondered if Ann was even aware of the pilot’s interest in her. She was quietly working some needlepoint in her lap, apparently oblivious.
Sabra’s attention was diverted when she saw Craig get up and walk back toward her. He’d slept soundly since the plane had taken off, and she was glad to see him. Instantly, her heart started pounding slowly with joy. Did he know how happy he made her feel? Sabra ached for the time and place to share that with him. She saw the light in his eyes, shadows no longer plaguing them. Holding out her hand, she felt her fingers touch and clasp his. A sizzling heat tingled upward through her arm.
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