He scanned the other four people left sitting close by. He’d read somewhere that the average emergency room visit lasted four hours. They’d sat in the waiting room for forty minutes before someone had come to take Joy back, and they’d been in an examining room for over an hour.
Two orderlies with a gurney wheeled by and got on the elevator. Jeez, the staff around here moved at a snail’s pace. The florescent lights glared overhead, reflecting off the chrome on the plastic chairs and the wax job on the tile floors. His head throbbed dully.
Maybe he could take a quick power nap. Negative.
He’d never be able to sleep. Not until he found out how she was doing. He’d been up since five, and without dinner his energy level was in a tailspin. Maybe he could find a drive-through somewhere on the way home and get them each a burger.
Shit. He was thinking of anything to keep from freaking out. What if he’d hurt her? What if that was why it was taking so long? When it involved a kid as small as Joy, they’d get right on things, wouldn’t they?
If he had to sit here two more hours without knowing something he’d be going alpha on someone.
And he wouldn’t have a leg to stand on because she wasn’t his kid.
Shit!
Sam appeared at the double doors leading back into the examination room.
He lunged to his feet so quickly he startled one of the nurses strolling past. He murmured an apology and made tracks to Sam.
“They’ve taken x-rays to make certain she doesn’t have any further obstruction in her throat. We’re just waiting for them to be read. I’m sorry it’s taking so long.”
He ran his fingers down the back of her bare arm to sooth her. “No problem. As long as she’s okay.”
She offered him a tired smile. “The doctor thinks she’s fine. Very lucky. You can come on back if you’d like.”
Anything was better than sitting on that hard plastic chair and waiting alone. Flash followed Sam down the wide hall. The nurses’ duty station spread in a large semi-circle backed against the wall. The examination rooms fanned out around the counter, and Sam stepped inside one. Joy lay on a hospital bed, her bottom lip stuck out and her face, crimped in a frown, a miniature of her mother’s. The moment she saw him, her expression cleared and she sat up.
“Mr. Tim’s here. We’re going home.”
“In just a few minutes, honey,” Sam said.
“Mommy…” Joy’s tone morphed into a huffy whine. She flopped back on the bed.
How many times had Sam heard that in the last hour?
Based on her expression, quite a few.
“You must be feeling better,” he said to Joy as he took the only chair in the room, one with arms and actual cushions.
“My tummy’s mad,” Joy complained.
“What about?”
“It’s hungry.”
This kid got to him every time she opened her mouth. “If the doc says it’s okay, we’ll get something to eat on the way home.”
Joy’s bottom lip popped back out.
Flash looked around the room for something to entertain her with. The place was buttoned up tight. Not a tongue depressor or cotton ball in sight. Just more chrome and squeaky-clean floors. He glanced at Sam. “How long has it been since they x-rayed her?”
“Forever!” Joy exclaimed.
Flash laughed, and Sam did too. Man, Sam was going to have her hands full when this kid got older.
Flash dug in his pocket for his work phone. He surfed the web until he found what he was looking for, a Disney film. He paid for it with the business account and waited for the video to download, then rose and handed the device to Joy. He pushed the arrow to play the video. When the music for Dumbo started, her expression cleared.
“Joy, please be careful with that phone. Don’t drop it.”
“I won’t, mommy.”
“When Dumbo’s mom starts singing the song while she rocks him to sleep, I’ll have to leave. It always makes me cry like a baby,” Flash said.
Sam’s laugh made him smile again. The stress was draining from her features and body. The smile that lingered on her lips, the way she looked at him, had a foreign warmth spreading through his chest. He wanted to hold her again. Caress her. Ease her troubles.
What was it about this woman?
“Thank you,” she said.
“You’re welcome.”
“It’s amazing how good you are with her.”
“Moms have to worry about all the tough stuff. Guys just worry about having fun.”
Her smile widened then slipped away. “One day you’ll make a good father.”
Having kids had never been one of his goals. He hadn’t stayed long enough with one woman to think about it. “How can you tell?”
“You have nerves of steel and the patience of Job. Trust me, you’ll be a natural.”
So all his SEAL training was still good for something. “Thanks.”
Sam shifted her attention away from Tim. Why couldn’t she have met someone like him first? Instead of a controlling, abusive, bastard? But then, Will had been all hearts and flowers at first, too. He’d totally snowed her. Was Tim doing that?
Why was he so nice to them, protective almost?
His comment about Dumbo brought another smile to her lips. He had the most disarming sense of humor. Will had none at all.
Would she ever stop comparing every man she met to her ex? Probably not.
She’d learned the hard way when something seemed too good to be true, it usually was. She had to keep her guard up. Hard to do, when Joy insisted on being crazy about him.
She was bound to be crazy about anyone who treated her with kindness. One more thing she had to protect her child against. Joy had no defenses against con men, and anyone else who would take advantage. Why couldn’t she be wary of everyone like her mother? Instead she was the opposite.
She looked up to find Tim’s attention focused on her. Something in his expression triggered a trembling heat low in her belly.
“Joy seems fine. How are you doing now?”
“I really thought I was going to lose her.”
“Scared me, too.”
“I’d have never guessed.”
“When you’re in the military, you learn to keep your head and save the emotional fallout for later.”
“Then what?”
He remained silent for a moment, his expression serious. He leaned forward in his chair, and resting his elbows on his knees, laced his fingers. “You just keep pushing on, putting one foot in front of the other and try and leave it behind.”
“And if you can’t?”
“You pour it into everything else you do.”
That made sense. And she was doing that. But as long as Will was still out there making her life hell, there would always be a never-ending supply of more to deal with.
But then Tim probably had a never-ending supply of his own to work through, and he still seemed pretty well-adjusted.
The doctor came in a few minutes later. “No obstruction and no signs of any lasting trauma to her throat. Next time, really chew those hot dog slices up before you swallow, Joy,” he said in parting.
Joy was more interested in watching the movie than listening to the doctor. She had almost choked to death and was already over it, while Sam would probably have nightmares for weeks.
As soon as the doctor was gone Joy’s attention shifted to Tim. “Time to go home,” she announced. Clutching the cell phone, she wiggled to the side of the bed.
Sam grabbed her arm to keep her from pitching headfirst off the side. She kept her stable until she’d gained her feet. “We have to wait for your release paperwork, honey.”
“Mommy…” Joy’s impatient whine was back.
“She’s not normally this whiney,” Sam said.
He shrugged. “She’s a kid. And it’s been…” He glanced at his watch. “Three hours. I think she’s doing great.”
Joy proceeded to climb into his lap. Sam started t
o tell her to get down, then bit back the comment when he wedged her in the bend of his arm against his side and offered to hold the phone for her.
Five minutes later, when a nurse appeared with the release paperwork, Joy lay boneless against him, sound asleep.
“Should we wake her?” Tim asked.
“She’ll be cranky. But she’ll be crankier if she doesn’t eat something before she goes to bed. All she’s had are some apple slices since her snack at four.”
Sam leaned over her and gave Joy a small shake. “Joy, wake up baby.”
Joy stirred. And curled closer to Tim.
“We’re going to get something to eat before we go home,” Sam said.
“Nuggets?” Joy asked sleepily.
“As long as you chew them up good.”
“’Kay.”
Tim leaned forward and holding her close, rose. He shifted her weight onto his arm. Her arms went around his neck and she rested her head on his shoulder.
“Come on, sweet tart. Mommy and Mr. Tim need some chow, too.”
“What’s chow?” Joy asked.
“Nuggets.”
CHAPTER 21
Marsha lay in bed listening to the shower. She studied a fan-shaped shadow that flickered and waved against the pale gold wall of her bedroom. She’d decorated the room in soothing tropical colors and made it a restful, romantic haven.
How long had it been since they’d made love? Or even reached for each other in sleep? Since before the break-in.
James came out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his hips. His damp hair shone like pewter. He’d started going gray at twenty, and now, at thirty-five, his hair looked white when dry. His brows and beard had remained dark, and lent his features an attractive, sensual masculinity. He went to the dresser to dig out his underclothes and socks, then moved on to the closet for his uniform.
He might sit behind a desk a great deal of his time, but he made it a priority to stay in shape. Had he not been in excellent condition, he’d have never survived the many beatings he’d sustained. He’d had a severe concussion, a broken nose, a shattered cheekbone and eye socket, broken ribs, a couple of broken teeth and numerous contusions. It had taken weeks for the swelling and bruising to subside.
The terrorists had used her to control him. Tormented him by touching her, threatening rape and worse.
Their efforts had driven underground any desire she’d had to be touched by a man. Was it like that for him too? Had seeing them put their hands on her killed his passion for her? Had the monsters managed to destroy that part of their marriage, too?
“James?”
He looked up from inspecting the khaki uniform he’d taken out of the closet.
“Do you miss making love?”
He studied her features, his eyes dark, then hung the uniform on the closet doorknob. He crossed the teal-colored bedroom carpet to sit on the bed next to her.
“Yeah, I miss making love with you.” He cleared his throat. “I miss you wanting to make love with me.”
Marsha laid her hand on the bed close to his muscular thigh but didn’t touch him. She didn’t know if she was ready yet. “They didn’t rape me. I’ve told you before. In spite of everything else he did, Moussa wouldn’t let them. He said I was unclean.” She studied his reaction, hoping for a clue to his feelings. “Isn’t that ironic? It was okay for him to torture us, brutalize you, and try to drown our son, but he drew the line at rape.”
“He was a religious zealot bent on revenge. A terrorist. A brute. A coward.” He swallowed as though his throat hurt. “I don’t give a fuck what his reasons were, I’m just glad he couldn’t bring himself to be a rapist, too.”
“I know you tried to protect us, put yourself between us and them, as much as you could.”
“It wasn’t enough.” He clenched and unclenched his hands in a show of tension she’d never seen from him before. “All those years of training and I couldn’t do a damn thing to keep them off of you.”
The bitterness in his tone surprised her. “There were three of them. They had guns. I know you didn’t take chances because of Alex and me.” She raised a hand to touch his bare back then withdrew it without touching him.
He rose and reached for his t-shirt. He thrust his arms into the sleeves and tugged it over his head. “I know you think I’m a cold blooded son of a bitch. I know you think I put you and Alex last.” He jerked the towel free and stepped into his boxer briefs. “But there’s never been anyone but you since we got married. Some of the other guys may fuck around on their wives and make excuses, and say they have needs, they’re just scratching the itch, that it doesn’t mean anything, but I haven’t. I won’t until you tell me you don’t want me anymore, and I’m not sure I could even then. Do you know what it does to me to know you can’t bring yourself to touch me?”
Marsha sat up and ran a hand through her bed-tousled hair. She felt emotionally exhausted. As though all the hurt had cauterized her sexual desires. “It isn’t because of anything you’ve done or didn’t do, James. It’s because I don’t want to start something I’m not ready to finish.”
He studied her face. “I’m not some over-enthusiastic teenager without any control. I’m not going to rush you into doing anything you don’t want. But you started off by asking me if I miss you, miss us, and then you can’t even touch me. What do you want from me, Marsha?”
“I wanted to know if their putting their hands on me had killed your feelings for me. It’s killed something inside me, James. I want to feel the way I did before, but I just feel numb. How do I make the numbness go away?”
He swallowed and the anger faded from his features. “How do you know you’d feel numb if I held you? If I touched you? You haven’t let me since it happened.”
The thought had her heart drumming in her ears. What if he broke through the numbness? What if it hurt too much? As long as she was sexually numb she didn’t have to face the fear and humiliation. “What if I lose it?”
“Then we’ll lose it together. Anything is better than this, Marsha.”
Was it?
“I have a meeting I can’t miss,” he said, glancing at his watch.
She nodded, rested her chin on her knees and watched him dress.
He’d picked himself up and moved on. Why couldn’t she?
Alex’s cry came just as he finished putting his captain’s insignia on the collar of his shirt. She rose from the bed and reached for the robe she’d tossed across the brightly flowered lounge in the corner.
When she moved past James he caught her arm and drew her close. He held her against his tall frame for a moment. She waited for her heartbeat to race, as it always had in the past. She felt nothing until he ran his fingertips along the back of her neck in a soft caress. Her nerve endings tingled and she shivered.
Alex’s cry grew louder.
“I’ll be home at five. Maybe we can grill out or something.”
They hadn’t grilled anything since the day of the attack.
She nodded and stepped away then paused at the door. “There hasn’t been anyone but you—ever, James.”
“I know.”
Would she have responded to the men’s attacks differently if she’d had more than one lover? Probably not. Because it hadn’t been about sex, it had been about control, pain, punishment and humiliation.
Did James really love her? He’d remained faithful through all the separations…Ten years of faithfulness had to count for something. Maybe they’d both find out what, if they made it through to the other side.
James dwelled on the conversation all the way into the base. He was at a loss about how to reach Marsha. She’d talked with her counselor, just as he had, about the lack of sex. But she’d never admitted her feelings, until this morning. Was that a good thing?
When he arrived at his office, he was met by the two NCIS agents assigned to Flash’s case. He had no choice but to shove his thoughts of Marsha and their problems to the back of his mind and escort the agen
ts to his office.
During and after showing the two agents the videos Flash had sent him, he studied their reactions. Barnett, five foot ten inches tall, about thirty, with dark brown hair and olive complexion, probably had some Italian ancestry, with his heavy features and hooded eyes. He was built like a linebacker, heavy through the chest and shoulders, muscular and fit.
His partner, Agent Cooper, couldn’t have been more opposite. She was taller than her partner, model thin, with long, lush, black hair tied back in a ponytail at the base of her neck. Her slacks and plain white shirt could have been sackcloth on her long, lean frame and still look like she’d just come off the runway in a fashion show. Her features were dramatically feminine.
“We’d like a copy of this latest recording. We may be able to figure out his exact location,” Barnett said.
Jackson raised a brow. “From a blank white wall and a temporary email address?” How stupid did they think Flash was?
Barnett looked away.
“I’ve been in touch with Lieutenant Carney’s teammates. They back up his story about the FBI visit. As does the base commander we worked under in Iraq when this went down. He’s sent me a report on his conversation with the two agents when they arrived at the base as have the men who witnessed their visit.”
“We’d like a copy of those reports too, Captain,” Barnett said.
James’s features tightened in outrage. “You should have generated your own reports by now, Agent Barnett. You have access to as much of Lieutenant Carney’s file as I do. And to all the information he’s been sharing with you. Why are you sitting on your hands and leaving my guy twisting in the wind?”
Barnett’s heavy brows crashed together and his jaw tensed. “Your guy is AWOL, sir. That’s our main concern.”
Anger heated James’s face. He’d watched the videos Flash had sent numerous times. Studied his file over and over. If Harold Timothy Carney had crossed over to the other side, he’d eat his SEAL trident. His man had been fucked by the FBI, and now NCIS lined up to have a go at him, too.
“Has the FBI issued a warrant for him on the bogus assault charge?”
Breaking Away (Military Romantic Suspense) (Book 3 of the SEAL TEAM Heartbreakers) Page 18