“No. Okay, well, maybe. A little bit.”
“Fantastic.” She eyed me with a hint of exasperation as she crossed her arms over her chest. I couldn’t help it. I laughed at her.
“What were you expecting to hear?” I liked to tease her.
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know. Not that.”
“You know me better than that.”
“Yeah,” she murmured quietly, almost sadly, as her eyes scoured me from head to toe. “I guess I do.”
“And yet you still felt as though you had to ask.”
“Come on, Ryan. Be serious for once in your life.” Meaghan appeared annoyed with my attempts at levity, and the harshness in her voice shocked me. She had a dull fire in her eyes, and she opened her mouth, but she must’ve changed her mind about what she wanted to say because she closed it again and rubbed her fingertips across her lips.
After a long moment during which she seemed to be gathering her composure, she tried again. “You were shot. Several times. You had to have emergency surgery. You could’ve died. Someone did—” She clapped her hands over her mouth with a loud slap. Her golden-brown eyes were wide with disbelief and horror.
My heart wrenched, and my gut twisted right along with it. Tears stung my eyes, and I blinked them back furiously. I clenched my jaw and took a deep breath, ignoring the sensation that someone had just sucked all the oxygen out of the room.
I didn’t need Meaghan—or anybody else—to remind me of the seriousness of the situation. I wasn’t an idiot, and I wasn’t capricious when it came to the subject of my life. But I was terrible when it came to dealing with any type of solemn emotion. I also didn’t like to dwell on my own mortality. I don’t think any of us did. And that, more than anything else, is what prompted me to crack jokes rather than simply answer her pointed question. It was what made me continue to treat the subject lightheartedly, even though I could see that it bothered her. Even though I knew it bothered me.
“I’m sorry,” Meaghan said.
“It’s okay.”
“No, it isn’t. I didn’t mean to…”
“It’s fine.” It wasn’t, but I really didn’t want to get into it.
“Your girlfriend just died. And I was being a jerk. It’s not my place to tell you how to react to things.”
My insides began playing a spirited game of Twister, and I sucked in a harsh breath. The intensity of my anguish startled me, and I had to fight not to cry. I couldn’t even bring myself to correct her about the label she’d used, as though I craved the additional agony the word caused.
I almost confessed everything to her then—Lucia and Jessie, the breakup, my night with Allison. But if I did that, she’d realize Lucia’s death was my fault. I was having enough trouble accepting that myself. I wasn’t even remotely prepared for the look I was sure she’d give me once she was made aware of the facts.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“So, uh, you ready to get out of here?” Meaghan looked miserable. She cast her gaze toward the floor and started twisting one of the rings on her fingers. Since the move was so uncharacteristic, my eyes were immediately drawn to the motion. I couldn’t recall her ever wearing a ring on that finger before. She usually—
“Oh, my God!”
Meaghan’s head shot up, her eyes borderline panicked. “What? What’s wrong?”
“Did you get engaged?”
Meaghan covered her left hand with her right, appearing uncomfortable. “Oh. Uh…Yeah.”
“Congratulations. That’s great! When did this happen?”
“Two days ago.”
“I’m so happy for you. Let me see the rock.” I held out my good hand and motioned her closer with my fingers. She hesitated for a long second before placing her hand in mine. I inspected the ring closely. “It’s beautiful. He did a great job picking it out.”
“He did.” She took her hand back and set it in her lap, keeping her eyes glued to it.
“So, how did he propose?”
“We can talk about that later.”
Her reluctance to share the details of something she’d been not-so-secretly hoping for, for the past few months, confused me. It wasn’t like her at all. “Did we talk about this already?”
“What?”
“How many times did I ask you that when I was all doped up? I’m sorry. I don’t remember.”
“You haven’t asked me before.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“We should just talk about something else. I can tell you all about it when you get out of the hospital. How much longer are they planning to keep you here anyway?”
Her attitude puzzled and slightly hurt me, but I didn’t want to push her. If she didn’t want to talk about it, that was her business. I pushed my distress aside and tried to go with her chosen topic of conversation. “Uh, I’m not sure. Rory won’t tell me.”
“It must be killing you to sit still for this long.”
I rolled my eyes. “You have no idea.”
She didn’t know the half of it. The forced inactivity had made it impossible for me to escape the tangled labyrinth of my own thoughts, and I was driving myself crazy with all this thinking. I couldn’t wait to get the hell out and go home. I’d likely do my fair share of introspection there, too, but I’d have access to a few more distractions. I’d be more comfortable at any rate. That was something.
“Have you started plotting your great escape yet?”
“Not yet, but it’s coming. Although it hasn’t been all bad. Half the people in this hospital dote on me because they know my sister, and the other half do it because they seem to think I am my sister.” With my free left hand, I plucked at the collar of the snazzy, navy-blue scrubs Rory had given me. “I’ve got some cool duds, a steady supply of amazing drugs, and all the Jell-O I could ever hope to eat in a lifetime. It’s as good as it could possibly be, considering the circumstances.”
“So, I don’t suppose you need this, then?” a new voice said from the doorway.
Ben Flannigan, the SAIC of the New York Field Office, stood there holding a nice-sized plastic container of what was obviously more Jell-O. “Black cherry.”
“Ooh! My favorite. Thanks.”
“You sure you want it? I hear they’re giving you all the Jell-O you can eat in here. I’d hate for you to get overloaded.”
“Of course I want it. They don’t have black cherry here. And if I’m forced to eat one more bowl of lime, I can’t be held accountable for my actions.”
He smiled and set the container on the nearby bed as his eyes shifted to my companion. “Hello, Meaghan. How are you doing?” He unbuttoned his suit jacket, and I took the opportunity his diverted attention afforded me to study him.
His dark hair, which had started gathering gray strands at the temples in recent years, was immaculately coifed, and his suit was meticulously creased and pressed. He looked every bit the part of the always-in-control Secret Service agent. But a tension to his posture and a tightness around his eyes and mouth betrayed his outward calm. I sighed inwardly at the sudden realization of how much this whole mess must be wearing on him. Another pang of guilt roiled inside my already knotted guts.
“I’m fine, sir,” Meaghan said. “Thank you. How are you?”
“As well as can be expected, considering. Do you mind if I have a moment alone with Agent O’Connor?”
“Of course not, sir.” Meaghan hastily collected all her belongings and gave me a sympathetic look. “I’ll see you later, Ryan.”
“Thanks for stopping by.” I wanted to say more to her before she left, but she was gone before I had a chance.
The SAIC waited a beat after Meaghan’s departure and then walked purposefully over to the door. He made sure it was securely closed before turning back to face me. Then he merely remained quiet for a long moment, studying me intently.
“How’re you doing, kiddo? I mean, really?” he asked finally, his voice soft.
I smiled at him and struggled to
sit up slightly to meet his offered kiss with my cheek. “I’m fine, Dad.”
Yes, I’m the boss’s daughter. Well, technically, his adopted daughter. But he’s known me since before I was born, so we have a long history together. And no, nobody in the office knows. We’ve taken great pains to keep it a secret because I wanted to make my own name—good or bad—on my own merit.
Dad frowned at me then. “That’s not what Rory says. She says you’re in pain.”
Rory had told me that both Mom and Dad had been in and out of my hospital room with all the regularity you’d expect from dutiful parents, but I’d always been either asleep or too doped up to notice. The one or two times I’d actually been lucid enough to make a stab at conversation, some nurses had been poking and prodding me, so I hadn’t had a chance to really talk to either of them. I was grateful to finally have these few moments alone with him.
In answer to his statement, I almost shrugged again but caught myself. A small flare of irritation at Rory ignited for ratting me out, but I attempted to keep the annoyance from my face and downplay the entire situation. Sure, I hurt like hell, but I refused to whine about it.
“Yeah, well, that’s to be expected. But it’s not too bad. They’re keeping me pretty well drugged. It helps dull the pain as long as I don’t move around too much. Which reminds me. Where’s my gun?”
Dad favored me with an indulgent smile that somehow made me think he’d been mentally timing me, waiting to see how long it’d take me to ask that question. “I have it. It’s locked up at home.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. I’d been pretty sure someone from my agency had taken possession of it—that was standard operating procedure whenever a law-enforcement officer was injured. I just hadn’t been positive where it’d ended up. The knowledge was a small comfort.
“And I wasn’t asking about your physical state. I wanted to know how you’re holding up emotionally.”
“You mean aside from being irritated that of all the people in the world I had to take a bullet for, it had to be that guy?” I rolled my eyes and shook my head.
“Yes, aside from that.” When I didn’t answer right away, he went on. “I know this must be hard for you, Ryan. You’re probably feeling a lot of different—”
“What are they saying?”
“Who?”
“The FBI. The ones investigating this assassination attempt on the president of Iran. Did the guy say why he did it? Did someone pay him, or was it some kind of vendetta?”
Dad regarded me for a long moment, his face carefully blank. I was familiar with that move. He knew something, but he was considering what to tell me or whether to tell me anything at all. If I hadn’t known him as well as I did, he might’ve played it off well enough that I didn’t realize what he was doing. Maybe.
“As far as I’ve been told, they’re following up on a few things. I’m supposed to meet with their SAIC later today to get a more thorough update on the situation.”
“Wait. What? You mean the gunman isn’t already in custody?”
“No.”
“How is that even possible? The entire block was crawling with cops. Somebody had to have seen something.”
“They’re working on it, Ryan.”
“You don’t know how he got away, do you? You have no idea. Neither do they.” My insides began a spectacular free fall as that realization hit home.
“As I said, I’m scheduled to receive a more thorough briefing later today.”
I studied him for a time, trying to work out exactly what he was keeping from me. In the end, I gave up. He’d worked for the agency long enough to have perfected his poker face. His expression wouldn’t give away anything he didn’t want me to know. Not anything specific, anyway.
“This is more than just an assassination attempt, Dad. This is personal.”
“Not to them.”
“Well, it is to me.”
“I know.”
I frowned as I reminded myself of what he deliberately wasn’t saying. That I needed to take a step back and let the FBI do their jobs. That I needed to let go of any personal stake I might have in this situation. That I needed to try to forget it’d happened at all and get on with my life. Or maybe he wasn’t trying to avoid saying any of those things to me. Maybe that was all in my head.
I didn’t want to bore him with a long diatribe. I didn’t even have the energy or the inclination to sort it all out at the moment. So I went with a summary of the thought that’d been regularly recurring inside my head since the moment I’d opened my eyes in this god-forsaken hospital room.
“I’m going to find out who did this. If it’s the last thing I do, I’m going to find out who killed Lucia. And, when I do, I intend to make him suffer for it.”
Dad’s phone rang then and interrupted whatever commentary he might’ve had regarding my vow. He winced when he looked at the screen. “I’m sorry. I have to take this.” He lifted the phone to his ear and stepped over to the windows. His voice was low, so I couldn’t hear any of what he was saying, which I suspected was deliberate.
A knock on the door distracted me from my eavesdropping, and I scowled. “Come in.”
The door eased open, and my mouth dropped. I blinked several times, then rubbed my eyes with my left hand, trying to determine whether I was hallucinating.
“Do you see her, too?” I asked Dad, afraid the drugs were starting to affect me more than they were supposed to. But he had his back to me.
Allison let out a throaty chuckle and sauntered over to the bed, all confidence and sex appeal. Christ, she looked amazing. Tired and a tad disheveled, but stunning nonetheless. My heart beat out a rapid, machine-gun-fire rhythm, and I was secretly glad they’d taken that infernal heart-rate monitor off me. The frantic beeping that would’ve accompanied her sudden appearance would’ve mortified me.
My immediate grin faded as something finally made it through my painkiller-addled little brain. “What are you doing here?”
“What? Aren’t you happy to see me?” Her teasing almost managed to conceal the strain in her voice. Almost.
“Of course. I’m thrilled. But I haven’t—” I physically bit my lip to prevent myself from blurting out that I hadn’t heard word one from her in days.
“I haven’t called,” Allison said.
I looked away, hoping my hurt feelings didn’t show on my face. “Yeah.”
She stepped up to the side of my bed and placed her hands on the railing. “Hey,” she said softly.
I glanced up at her, all bated breath and nervous hope.
“I’m sorry.” It came out as a whisper, but her face was sadder and more serious than I’d ever seen it.
We continued to stare at one another until the pointed clearing of a throat broke the spell.
“I think that’s my cue to leave,” Dad said, sounding amused. “Hello, Allison. Nice to see you again.”
Allison blinked once, startled, as if just now noticing I had company. “I’m sorry, sir. You don’t have to go anywhere. I can come back later.”
“Please stay. I have a meeting to prepare for, so I was about to leave anyway.” He shifted his focus to me. “Call if you need anything.”
“Of course. Thank you, sir.”
Dad grinned at me, then walked out and shut the door behind him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Now that Allison and I were alone, the atmosphere in the room suddenly threatened to choke me. The pressure gathering in my chest was acutely painful. Each one of the scenarios I’d imagined for our reunion rushed in on me at once. I was overwhelmed and couldn’t decide what to say.
Allison’s eyes raked over me, and she appeared to be assessing my condition. All of her usual swagger had disappeared, and a tension and uncertainty hovering around her now filled me with dread. She gazed at me for an eternity, but finally she reached out to tentatively caress my cheek with her fingertips. My skin sparked where she touched me, and my heart threatened to beat its way out of my body. I c
losed my eyes and sighed.
“Ryan,” Allison whispered.
I opened my eyes, and her bare emotions frightened me. I gently covered her hand with my own.
The in-control, put-together façade she’d strolled in here with had completely cracked, and I doubted she’d recover it. With her other hand, she followed the line of the stitches on my forehead with a feather-light touch. Her eyes reflected back to me such a myriad of ever-changing emotions I scarcely had the energy to keep up.
When she finished exploring my wound, she let her hand ghost across my brow and down the other side of my face and caressed the tender spot on the other side of my jaw.
I opened my mouth to say something, anything, to break the weighty silence between us, but Allison ignored my attempt and leaned down oh-so-slowly to retrace the path her fingers had just blazed across my stitches with her lips. My eyes fluttered closed, and a small moan slipped past my lips.
Allison took her time lavishing my cut with attention before depositing small kisses on each of my eyes and the tip of my nose. My heart pounded, and my lungs seized when she barely brushed my lips as she turned my head in order to pay attention to the aching spot on my chin. I smiled when she finally finished and made her way back to my lips. She rewarded me with a long, lingering kiss that kindled sparks in every single nerve ending in my body.
When we finally broke apart, I was breathing heavily, and my head felt like I’d just jumped off one of those spinning carnival rides. But underneath everything I was so overwhelmed with love for her that it actually hurt. That love silenced the voices clamoring in the back of my head reminding me that things between us were still unsettled. And it almost carried me through my guilt and despair over the death of Lucia that violently sucker punched me at the oddest times. Like now.
Allison rested her forehead against mine. Her breath tickled my lips, making me want to kiss her again. Her fingers wound their way around the back of my neck to tangle in my hair. I used my free left hand to cup her cheek, surprised to discover it was wet. I tried to pull back so I could look into her eyes, but she tightened her grip on me, forcing me to remain where I was.
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