by Drake, J. L.
Okay, now everything is spinning. I reach out my hand to a chair for support. “You—you’re saying you wouldn’t have come for me?”
He makes a pissy face. “What I’m saying is that we should have and still should hand you over to the Witness Protection Program. All you’re going to do is cause us trouble and potentially expose all that we’ve worked so hard for.”
“I didn’t ask for this York!” I spit out, feeling defensive. “Shit, what am I supposed to do with this information besides try to unlock memories that are locked inside my brain with a fucking deadbolt!”
“You should think about leaving,” he says without missing a beat.
That sucks the wind right out of me. I turn on my heel and make my way down the stairs to the grass. I don’t want to go back inside and face everyone. If this is what’s going on, maybe he isn’t the only one who feels I’m jeopardizing this place. I head for the boathouse with heavy feet—I feel off balance. I collapse on a chair, trying to fight off the nausea. Jesus, what did I eat? I open and close my eyes—everything is shifting to the right. I move my hand in front of me and it blurs in its path like a rainbow. I flop forward on all fours heaving, my stomach wrenching. I lay my cheek to the cool wood staring out at the water watching the curtain of rain traveling toward me. The raindrops bounce off my face, freeing me of my sweaty forehead and feeling very cool.
They don’t know who the American is? Just that he’ll be looking under every rock in the US until he finds me. Wow, I’m royally fucked. How or rather why is this happening to me? Oh God, what if I ruin all this for the Logans? Three generations, and they’ve saved countless lives. I lean forward, emptying my stomach again. God, I feel miserable. I flop back down on the deck not having the strength to do anything else. My clothes are drenched but I don’t mind anything but the violent pain in my stomach. Oh no! I roll and continue the horrible act of emptying my stomach; there can’t be anything left in there. I close my eyes promising myself I’ll speak with Cole about leaving.
“Savannah?” I hear Keith whisper through the rain. “What are you doing?”
I don’t move. I barely find my voice.
“Need a minute.”
“Can I get you out of the rain—” He drops in front of me, the brim of his hat streaming with water. “Jesus, Savi, you look horrible.” He reaches out, taking my wrist and checking my pulse, I hear his rain jacket squeak as he mutters something into his radio. I can’t make it out, things are going gray. “I need to get you inside.”
I push away his hand letting mine fall in front of him with a smack. I feel like I’m heavy as lead. There is no way he is going to move me. If he did, I think I might black out from the motion.
“No,” I whisper, concentrating on a rock. I need something to focus on that isn’t moving. He watches me for a moment, then stands. Oh good, please leave me be.
Chapter Seven
Cole is sipping a brandy listening to John tell a story about a flat tire he got while coming back into the US from a snatch and grab in Mexico when Mark catches his attention. He waves him into the kitchen and follows, only to find him looking distraught.
“Keith needs to speak with you,” Mark says, handing his radio to him. Cole looks at him funny. Mark is on duty tonight, but if Keith requested him it must be important. “You need to take this.”
“Logan to Delta Seven.”
“Logan, you need to come to the boat house. I have a situation.”
“Be right there.” Mark was already handing him a rain coat, his face looking worried.
He jogs down the lawn over the soppy grass, his boots sinking in, making it slippery. Keith stops him a few yards from the boat house.
“It’s Savannah.” Cole’s stomach sinks. “I found her lying on the deck of the boat house, she looks really sick and her pulse is racing. She won’t let me move her. I didn’t want to force her.” He gives Cole a look; they all know better than to force things with our ‘guests.’ Victims of kidnapping are to be handled with kid gloves. “I just thought she’d respond better to you.” Keith’s hand grips his arm as he comes closer. “Cole, she doesn’t look good.”
“Take me to her.” Cole follows him around the corner to where a drenched Savannah lies on the deck floor looking lethargic. Delta Six is holding an umbrella over her head. Cole's heart sinks as he rushes to her side, dropping to his knees seeing how pale she is. He checks her pulse, it is racing.
“Hey, Savi.” He tries to remain calm he notices her eyes never shift from the horizon. “Why are you out here?”
“Tell Cole I’ll leave,” she barely whispers. Leave? He glances up at Keith who gives a grim nod—she is clearly out of it. He bends down trying to get a good look at her pupils; they’re dilated. He glances back at Keith giving him the sign to call the doctor.
“Code one, Keith.” Keith quickly calls it in.
She moans holding her stomach. “Savannah, why would you leave?” He tries to distract her as she is retching again.
“The American—his name is connected with mine—he doesn’t lose hostages.”
What the hell? How did she know this? What she’s saying is classified information.
“I need to leave before—” Her words were slurring and her eyes look heavy. “Tell Cole not to worry. I’ll leave.”
Over his dead body will this woman be leaving the safety of his house.
“I’m going to pick you up now, Savi.”
“No,” she whimpers trying to push him away, “sick.” He ignores her protests and cradles her to him. She is so exhausted her body is like mush against his.
“Keith,” he calls over his shoulder, “my entrance.”
Keith nods, running up ahead opening a side door reserved for Cole only. It is a direct route to his room.
Once they are out of the rain and in the back hallway he turns to Keith. “Go get Abigail and don’t mention a word of this to anyone. Call in someone to replace you tonight, get dried off, and meet me back in my room.”
Keith nods then glances at Savannah before he leaves.
Cole is happy it was Keith who found her and not one of the other guys. They might have moved her, thinking it was for the best.
He opens the door to his bedroom, placing her on his bed. Her hands grip his jacket, making him still.
Her eyes are closed and he knows she is barely hanging on. She moans, letting go of him. Holding her stomach, he grabs a small garbage can.
Wow, she’s really sick.
“Oh my goodness, Savannah.” Abigail comes rushing in his room with a homemade medical bag, pulling out a thermometer and sticking it in Savannah's ear.
Savannah moans again, tucking her knees to her stomach, her breathing growing shallow. “No fever. Cole, should we move her to her bedroom?”
“No, this situation stays here until we know what’s making her sick.”
“The doctor should be here any minute,” Keith chimes in.
“Okay, boys, give me five minutes so I can get her into something dry, please.” Cole pulls out a black T-shirt handing it to Abagail before walking into the private hallway with Keith.
“I want you to keep this whole thing quiet for now, Keith.”
“Of course.”
“Did she say anything to you?”
“She kept saying she needed to leave.” He shakes his head. “She was talking to someone earlier but I couldn’t see from my post. It got heated with whoever it was—she caught my attention when she shouted. I watched her leave the deck and walk down to the boat house. She stumbled as she reached the chair. I thought perhaps she had too much to drink, so I let her be. But then she fell forward and collapsed on the deck. By the time I got there she was vomiting hard and was white as a ghost. I’m sorry I didn’t move her, but—”
“No, you did the right thing.” Cole thinks for a moment. “I want to know who she was talking to, and if you hear anything at all I want to know about it immediately.” Who would have opened their fucking mouth?
***
“When did the symptoms begin? Did anyone notice?” the doctor asks, looking serious.
“She was fine when I brought her lunch at noon. She said she was just tired,” Abigail says, looking pale.
“She seemed fine when she came to talk to me around eleven,” Cole chimes in, wracking his brain trying to remember if she seemed different. “Dinner she seemed fine too. She ate a little.”
“Anything to drink? Alcohol?”
“No, she’s not a big drinker,” Cole says crossing his arms.
The doctor draws her blood then tucks it carefully into his bag.
“Do you think it’s the flu?” Abigail asks impatiently.
“No I don’t think so, if I was to guess I’d say she either has food poisoning or she ingested another type of poison.” Abigail gasps as Cole balls his hands into fists tucking them tightly against his sides.
“No one else is sick.” Abigail's look is horrifying. “We all ate the same thing, I made dinner.”
Cole squeezes her shoulders—he would never think anything but the best of Abigail.
“Then perhaps something she drank.” The doctor slides the IV into the top of her wrist. “Someone could have slipped something in it.”
Savannah moans quietly as the needle pokes her skin.
“It’s all right, sweetheart, this will keep you hydrated.” Cole is fighting the urge to comfort her.
The Doctor looks up at Cole. “Do you have any bottled water that hasn’t been opened?”
“Yes.” He moves swiftly to his mini fridge and hands him one. He watches as the doctor measures out a tablespoon of charcoal into eight ounces of water.
“In,” the Doctor checks his watch, “fifteen minutes the anti-emetic shot I gave her for vomiting should kick in—get her to drink all of this.” He stands placing it on the table. “I’m going to get this blood to the lab. She’s stable for now but if she gets worse before I return, call me immediately.”
“How long till the results come in, Doctor Rice?” Abigail moves to Savannah’s side rubbing her arm gently.
“First priority, Doc.” Cole gives him in a look from across the room.
“Always, Logan. I should know in a few hours.”
“Use my private cell.” Cole didn’t want to risk anything being overheard. There are too many unanswered questions.
Abigail walks the doctor out the back way.
Cole sits in a chair watching her sleep. She looks tiny in his king size bed. He tries in vain to push the awful thoughts of 'what if' aside. What if no one saw her down there, what if—He’d seen people in a lot worse shape, but with Savannah it’s different. Every part of him wants to lie down next to her, breathe her in, and hold her tight. He wants to bring her the comfort that she deserves. He rubs his face, leaning back in the chair. He checks his watch and grabs the glass.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, he gently moves her hair out of her face. “Savannah,” he whispers, making her stir. “Open your eyes for me.”
She moans as she tries to open them.
“Here, drink this. It will help your stomach.” Her mouth opens slightly. He slips the straw between her lips and talks her through drinking the whole thing. “Good job, now you can sleep.”
She doesn’t move after that.
A knock at the back door brings Cole to his feet. He opens it, finding Keith holding a bottle of brandy and two glasses.
“Thought you might need one.” Keith shrugs, stepping into the room. “What did the doctor say?”
“Possibly poison, results should be back soon.”
Keith looks shocked and hands him a glass.
“What did you find out?”
“York spoke to her.” Keith makes a face as Cole's expression hardens.
He takes a long sip, trying to control his anger. “He was trying to explain to her that she needs to remember everything about The American. He’s pissed at you—”
“He’s pissed at me?” Cole shouts they both glance at Savannah, who stirs.
“Yes, he says that we shouldn’t have taken her back here. That WPP is a better choice.” Keith holds up his hand stopping him from his rant about the WPP. “That’s all I know, either way he was straight with me when I asked, giving me the information—he didn’t seem to be hiding anything. I told him you wanted him to take my post tonight.” Keith grins. “He wasn’t pleased, but he went.”
“I bet,” Cole hisses, sipping his drink. They sit in silence for a little while listening to the rain beat against the window.
***
“Cole?” Abigail’s voice comes from the doorway—neither man heard the door open. “Doctor Rice is here.”
Cole glances at his watch, stunned to see three hours has elapsed. “Hi, Doc. You didn’t call my cell?”
Doctor Rice checks Savannah’s vital signs—everything seems to be all right. “I decided to come over and give you the news directly.” He removes the IV.
Cole is quietly going mad while the doc checks her over again.
“It was Tetrahydrozoline poisoning.”
“What!” Abigail turns looking at Cole for clarification.
“Eye drops,” Cole answers. “Every man carries a bottle—the elements are rough on the eyes. How much was in her system?”
“Enough,” the doctor says.
Suddenly a dark feeling comes over Cole he grips the back of his chair. “Doctor Rice,” Cole’s voice is low. “I need you to remove the test results from your database right now.”
“Of course, I’ll call the lab immediately.” He slips out into the hall.
“What are you thinking?” Keith asks.
“I don’t know, but I don’t like this and I think we should keep any details about what has happened under wraps.” Cole downs his drink in one swallow.
“I don’t understand, Cole,” Abigail says crossing her arms. “How could she possibly have been poisoned? None of our boys would do this.”
“I don’t want to go there either, but someone did do it. She wouldn’t have done it to herself.”
“Why erase it from the database?” Keith asks trying to understand.
“If they run the lab and it goes into the database, it’s a pretty unusual poisoning, it might stand out and we don’t need anyone taking an interest. I just hope that the lab didn’t enter it online yet.”
“Oh dear!” Both men look at Abigail. “She likes the lemonade I make. I made her a large batch yesterday morning, and it sat in the fridge all day. So anyone could have spiked it at any time.”
Cole let out a long breath. Of course, he looks at Keith.
“Check the video surveillance footage. Let’s see what we come up with.”
Keith squeezes Savannah’s hand then leaves.
“Abigail, could you bring me the some of that lemonade, please? I’d like to take it in for testing,” Doctor Rice asks her from behind them. “Cole, I’ll be back tomorrow to check on her, she should recover just fine. We caught it early and thankfully she didn’t ingest enough to—” He pauses seeing Cole’s expression. “She just needs rest.”
Cole plops down on his chair with a sigh, this whole situation seems surreal. The mere idea that one of his trusted men could betray him makes him feel sick; loyalty is essential in this business. He’ll have to fill his father in on all this immediately he knows he really needs the old man's advice. He wonders how to deal with York—what he the hell was he thinking opening his mouth to Savannah about anything? She doesn’t need to know that her life is never going to be what it was—that she probably would never be able to go back, especially not with what he suspects is going on.
He downs another ounce of brandy hoping to take the edge off then leans back, glancing at the clock. 3:50 a.m. He finally puts on dry clothes then collapses back into his chair, unwilling to leave Savannah in case she wakes. He is exhausted as well…
***
“No-no-please.”
Her words make Cole’s eyes pop open, he lifts his head to see her twitching.
“No more! I’m sorry.”
He jumps to his feet moving to the bed. “Savannah,” he whispers, “wake up.”
“Nooo.”
He shakes her softly, making her eyes open.
She looks up startled. Her chest is heaving and tears trickle down her cheeks.
“You were dreaming,” he says quietly. “You’re safe.”
She shakes her head 'no' slowly as she falls back to sleep. “Don’t leave,” she mutters, moving her hand on top of his.
“I won’t. I promise.” He kicks off his boots, not caring about what is right or not, and climbs in next to her, leaning his back against the leather headboard and holds her hand in his as she sleeps. Yup, he is putty in her hands for sure. Shit.
“You smell like him,” she suddenly whispers, still mostly asleep.
“Smell like who?”
“Cole.”
He feels his heart speed up then let's out a chuckle. He knows it’s wrong—taking advantage of her in the state she is in—but who is he kidding?
“Is that a good thing?”
She sighs. “Very.”
Okay, he’s in. He’s about to toss all his chips on the table. She needs to be his. Now that he has confirmation that she is interested in him he feels his guard drop. The overwhelming protective instincts that he has been experiencing since she has arrived crash down around him like a landslide. Yup, he has officially fallen head over heels for this woman and it near scares him half to death!
***
The smell of apples fills his nose. Its intoxicating warmth spreads down to his toes. He is thoroughly enjoying this half-awake, half asleep time next to her—that is until he hears someone clear their throat. His eyes flutter open to a grinning Abigail.