by Lara Lacombe
“Is it safe for me to look?”
“Yep. I’m all done.”
Kelly turned to see a neat white square on her shoulder. She studied it for a moment, fascinated by how such a small thing had caused so much pain. She reached around to find a matching bandage on her back. Two holes. She felt like Swiss cheese.
“You’re all set,” the doctor said, laying the chart on the bed as she spoke. “That lidocaine is going to wear off soon, so I’ll have a nurse bring you some more Dilaudid, and I gave you a shot of antibiotics to prevent infection. Do you have any questions for me?”
Kelly shook her head, her thoughts still too scattered to focus on forming an intelligent question. “Not right now. Thanks for taking care of me.”
Dr. Mahoney smiled, making her look even younger. Kelly idly wondered just how old the good doctor was, but decided it would be too rude to ask. “You’re welcome. See your primary-care physician to get those stitches out next week, okay?”
“I will.”
“Good.” The woman turned to face James, who was still scowling in the corner. “Now let’s have a look at you.”
“I’m fine,” he repeated, making no move to leave the chair.
“You have a gunshot wound,” the doctor replied. “The law requires me to examine you.”
The corner of his mouth quirked up in what might have been a smile under different circumstances. “Doctor, I work for the FBI. Before that, I was a D.C. cop. While the law requires you to report a gunshot wound, it does not require you to examine said wound without the consent of the patient.”
Dr. Mahoney shrugged. “It was worth a shot, no pun intended. Are you sure you don’t want me to look at it?”
He nodded.
“Suit yourself.” The doctor turned to leave.
“James.” Kelly said his name softly, knowing that if she pushed him, he’d push right back. “Please?”
He held her gaze for a long moment, emotions that she couldn’t identify flashing through his eyes. Finally, he sighed.
“All right.”
He stood with a wince, slowly unbuttoned his shirt and tugged it off with careful, deliberate movements. He kept his eyes locked on her face the entire time. Determined not to look away, she maintained eye contact with him, a task that grew increasingly difficult as the shirt dropped to reveal a wide expanse of golden skin and the dark curls that dusted his chest.
She’d seen that chest before, been intimately acquainted with those shoulders and arms, the flat belly that tapered to slim hips. She’d used her tongue to trace the line of hair from his belly button to his...
She swallowed hard, trying to keep her face impassive as they played this silent game of chicken.
If he was affected by her subtle perusal, he didn’t show it. He merely raised a brow, silently asking if she liked what she saw. She almost nodded, but she stopped herself just in time. Yes, he was gorgeous. Yes, she was still attracted to him. Yes, she’d love to jump him right here, right now, Dr. Mahoney be damned. But she refused to admit her appreciation for his body when he had made it clear he didn’t trust her.
Dr. Mahoney stepped closer, reaching out to grab a corner of the tape holding his bandage in place. She glanced up. “It’ll hurt less if I just rip it off.”
He nodded. The tape came free with a few firm tugs to reveal an angry red gash tracking along the side of his rib cage. Kelly sucked in a breath at the sight, wondering how he was still standing. Her injury was in a much smaller area, and before the pain meds, she’d barely kept it together.
Dr. Mahoney probed along the margins with her gloved fingers, eliciting a wince from her patient. “Looks pretty clean,” she muttered as she examined him. “Still bleeding, though.” She was right—even now a few drops of blood welled up and began a downward trek across his skin.
Satisfied, the doctor pressed a fresh square of gauze to his side. “Hold this for me.”
James obliged, and Dr. Mahoney straightened. “You need stitches,” she pronounced, removing her gloves with a snap. “I’m going to grab another suture kit. Be right back.”
She left before James could respond; the soft squeak of her shoes on the floor faded as she walked out.
The silence in the room was a thick blanket pressing down on them. Kelly fiddled with the edge of the bed sheet, folding it over and over again to form an even pleat as she cast about for something to say that would ease the tension between them.
“I should move.” She pushed herself up with her uninjured arm, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “The doctor will probably want you to lie down so she can stitch you up.”
“You’re fine.” James held out a hand to stop her, but he was careful not to touch her. “Just stay there. I can sit on the end of the bed.” He made no move to approach the bed, a fact that wasn’t lost on Kelly.
“Look,” she said, unable to keep the bite of temper out of her voice. “I don’t know what’s got you all twisted up, but I’m a little tired of being treated like some kind of pariah.”
James merely raised a brow, and his cool aloofness added fuel to the fire of her anger. “Who’s treating you like a pariah?”
“You are,” she bit out, her jaw clenched so tightly it was a wonder her teeth didn’t crack. Damn this man! “It’s not my fault we’re here.” She crossed her arms over her chest, ignoring the twinge of protest from her shoulder.
He took a step forward at that, glaring down at her. “Actually, it is your fault.” His words were short and clipped. “And believe me, we will talk about your behavior. But not now.”
“My behavior? Just who the hell do you think you are? I’m not a child you can scold when I don’t do what you want. That’s not how this works.” She gestured between them, her movements jerky but forceful. She leaned forward, pointing at him. If he’d been just a step closer, she would have poked him in the chest. “And for the record, your behavior has been lacking, as well.”
A polite cough from the door cut off whatever James was about to say. Dr. Mahoney stepped into the room carrying a bundle wrapped in blue fabric, which she placed on the rolling tray next to the bed.
“Why don’t you come sit down for me?” She patted the end of the bed. “This won’t take long.”
With a final glare at Kelly, James sat down, making sure to arrange himself as far away from her as possible. Fine. She didn’t want to touch him anyway.
Kelly stared down at her lap as Dr. Mahoney patched James up. Why was she letting him get to her like this? So he still harbored doubts about her innocence. After the way she had walked out on him before, could she really blame him for not trusting her? Maybe she was being too hard on him, but a small part of her was disappointed that he thought she could be involved. After all, walking out on someone was a far cry from terrorism, and he should know her well enough to realize she would never do something like that.
She couldn’t deny she’d been keeping secrets from him. She’d never told him about Gary or about the fact that she’d started seeing a therapist after their night together. She had finally gotten to a point where she felt secure again, and then this nightmare had started. It wasn’t James’s fault she was involved, but it did hurt to know he didn’t think of her as being on his team.
“These the two GSWs?”
Kelly looked up to find two uniformed police officers at the door. The older man sported a mustache and a frown, while his partner looked impossibly young, his cheeks pink and smooth and his eyes wide.
“Yes,” Dr. Mahoney responded. “Just give me a minute to finish, and then they’re all yours.”
“We’ll be right outside the door,” the older man replied. He nudged his partner, and the pair stepped out into the hall, their shadows casting dark lines on the floor.
“Good,” James muttered under his breath. “I need to talk to them.”
“I imagine they’re quite interested in what you have to say,” the doctor said. Kelly heard the snip of scissors, followed by the rip of ta
pe. “After all,” she continued conversationally, “it’s not every day we see an FBI agent involved in a shoot-out.”
“Glad I could provide some entertainment for you,” James said wryly.
Dr. Mahoney winked at him as she stepped back, and James grinned at her. A small spark of jealousy kindled to life in Kelly’s chest as she watched the pair—the pretty blonde woman and the dangerously handsome man. Mine, she thought as she watched him button his shirt.
No, not anymore, replied the voice of reason. You had your chance.
James spared her a glance as he stood. Her thoughts must have showed on her face, because he paused, studying her as if trying to read her emotions. “I’ll be right back,” he said slowly, frowning slightly before he turned and stepped out of the room.
“Looks like you’re all set here,” Dr. Mahoney said, tossing the debris into the trash can in the corner. “I’ll start the paperwork, and we’ll get you on your way.”
“Thanks,” Kelly replied absently. Where was she supposed to go? She couldn’t go home, not with what had happened tonight. There was no way she was going to stay in that apartment now that Caleb and his thugs knew where she lived. She shuddered at the thought of him in her home, her space. She didn’t really spend much time there, but it had always been a kind of refuge for her. Now Caleb had ruined that. She’d never feel safe there again.
Would James still take her to the safe house? What was the protocol after someone had been shot at? She idly wondered if he’d have to take her someplace new or if his original plan was still good. He was probably looking forward to dropping her off and having someone else deal with her. Maybe a little separation would do them both good.
What exactly did a safe house look like? she wondered, leaning back against the stiff, undersize hospital pillow. More important, was there a bathtub? She sighed, wanting nothing more than to wash this night off her and climb into a soft bed. Surely that wasn’t too much to ask.
She shifted a bit, gasping as the movement sent a sudden spike of pain down her arm. Hadn’t the doctor said something about pain medication? Where was the nurse?
As if summoned by her thoughts, a young man in brown scrubs stepped into the room. “Ready for pain meds?” he asked cheerfully, holding up a paper cup as he approached.
“Yes, please,” Kelly replied, leaning forward to sit up.
After verifying her identity, he passed her the pain pills. They were small and white and went down easily, a fact Kelly was grateful for, seeing as how the cup of water the nurse had given her only held a few sips.
“Sit tight,” the nurse said, gathering up the trash as he moved to the door. “Buzz me if you need anything.”
“Thanks,” Kelly called out, but he’d already moved on.
She glanced around the empty room, at a loss. After spending the day with James and other members of his team, she suddenly felt very lonely.
“Now what?” she whispered to herself.
Chapter 6
“Let me get this straight.”
Mitchell, the older cop, flipped his notebook shut and eyed James dubiously. “Even though there were no serious injuries, you want us to go back to the station and report this as a double homicide?”
James nodded, trying not to look too desperate. “That’d be great.”
“And why would I want to create all that paperwork for myself?”
James could tell by the set of his jaw that Mitchell wasn’t in a mood to cooperate. Not that he blamed him. He remembered well the reams of forms that accompanied a murder investigation, all needing to be filled out in triplicate on the antique typewriter with the sticky keys.
“I know it’s a pain in the ass. When I worked in the 106, we had the crappiest typewriter in the city. I always had to pull the forms out and start over.”
Mitchell’s brows shot up. “You were a D.C. cop?”
James nodded. “Yeah. Seven years on the job.”
“The 106, you said? That’s district one, right?”
James nodded again. “You got it.”
Mitchell eyed him up and down, a new respect in his gaze. “That’s a tough area.”
James shrugged. “Aren’t they all?”
That earned him a laugh and a slap on the back that made his eyes water. “True enough. So.” He stepped in closer, lowering his voice. “You gonna tell me why you want me to file a false report?”
James took a second to weigh his options. If he refused to talk, Mitchell might very well refuse to file the report, which would complicate an already bad day. Better to risk the information getting out, especially if it bought him a few hours’ time.
“I’m working a sensitive case right now,” he said, pausing slightly before saying the magic words. “It’s a national-security thing. I need the perp who took a shot at us tonight to think we’re dead.”
“I see.” Mitchell nodded thoughtfully. “And this would really help you out?”
“Oh, yeah,” James assured him. “You have no idea. And to make things easier on you, you don’t even have to file the paperwork. You could just go back to your car, check in with dispatch and let them know the two GSWs were DOA. Then you have a quiet word with your captain when you get back to the station.” He rubbed his palms together in a pantomime of washing his hands. “That’s it.”
Mitchell broke into a wide smile. “I think I can handle that.”
James held his hand out for a quick shake. “Good man. I really appreciate it.”
“Good luck to you.” Mitchell tucked his notepad back into his pocket. “You ready, kid?”
The younger cop, who had remained silent during the discussion, nodded. “Say, how’d you go from being a cop to an FBI agent?”
James swallowed hard, forcing down the painful memories the innocent question had stirred up. “I worked a joint case with the bureau, and they recruited me.” It wasn’t a lie, exactly, but it wasn’t the whole truth, either. After Steve’s death, he had needed to leave the force, and luckily, the bureau had been hiring.
“What about your partner?” The kid’s eyes cut to Mitchell, who was listening to the exchange with barely concealed curiosity.
“My partner was retiring, so it was a good time for me to make the jump.”
The young man nodded, seemingly satisfied with his answer. “That’s cool. Saved you having to break in a new partner.” He shot a sly grin at Mitchell, who chuckled.
“Let’s go, wiseass. We’ve still got a lot of night ahead of us.”
The pair nodded at him and wandered away. James exhaled slowly. One thing taken care of. How many fires were left to put out?
He caught sight of a blond ponytail rounding the corner and hurried after it. Getting the hospital to cooperate was next on his growing to-do list.
He found the doctor standing at the nurses’ station, jotting something down on a patient’s chart. Crap, what was her name?
“Um, excuse me?”
She glanced up at him, did a double take. Then she smiled, the expression transforming her from harried professional to beautiful woman.
“Hello there,” she said. “Did you need something?”
“Yes, actually, there was something.” He laid a hand on her arm and gently guided her to the doorway of an empty patient room. It wasn’t the best option, as far as privacy went, but it was better than nothing.
“I need a favor,” he began.
She didn’t say anything, but her smile slipped a little. If he didn’t know better, he’d say she was disappointed.
“I’m working a case,” he went on, talking quickly to hold her attention. The last thing he needed was for her to be pulled away on an emergency before he could finish explaining what he needed her to do.
“So do you think you can sit on her chart? Maybe keep it out of the general circulation, so anyone snooping around wouldn’t know she’d been here?”
She let out a sigh. “I suppose I could misplace it for a few hours, if that’s what you’re asking.”
<
br /> “That’d be great. But only if it doesn’t get you into trouble.”
She smiled up at him again. “Nah. It’s no big deal.”
“I appreciate it.” He gave her arm a squeeze, and her smile grew warmer. Uh-oh.
“There’s one more thing,” he said, feeling like an ass. He didn’t want to take advantage of her seeming goodwill toward him, but he wasn’t done asking for favors yet.
“Yes?” she said, moving infinitesimally closer.
“Can you keep her overnight?”
She blinked up at him. “Your friend?”
He nodded, holding his breath.
Her blond brows drew together in a frown. “That’s a little tougher to swing. She’s not seriously injured, and we need the bed.”
He cast about for something he could say to convince her. “She did pass out several times tonight, though. Could you admit her for observation or something?”
The doctor pursed her lips and exhaled, causing the stray strands of hair that had escaped from her ponytail to flare out. “I suppose you want me to admit her under an assumed name, too?”
He grinned. “Now you’re getting the idea. I think Jane Doe has a nice ring to it, don’t you?”
“Well, she didn’t have an ID on her when she came in,” said the doctor. “I suppose it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch.”
“I owe you,” James said sincerely.
The corner of her mouth quirked up. “Normally, I’d take that as my cue to request drinks and dinner as payback. But something tells me you’re not available....” She trailed off, watching him closely.
He fought to keep his expression neutral. “Not exactly,” he admitted.
“Figures,” she muttered. “It was worth a shot anyway. Tell your friend I said she’s a lucky girl.”
“What makes you think it’s her?”
She shot him a look that was pure feminine amusement. “Please. I heard the two of you arguing. It’s clear from the way you fight that you both care about each other.”
Well, that much was true. Most of his anger had stemmed from fear—the fear that Kelly was seriously hurt, the fear that she’d come so close to being killed tonight. The fear of losing her had cut through the tangled thicket of his emotions and laid bare the fact that he still had feelings for her. That realization had only made him more frustrated than ever, and it had caused him to lash out.