Lucky Like Us

by Jennifer Ryan

  The Judge gave Sam a brisk pat on the leg. “The nurse told me you sat with her most of the night. She said you held her hand.”

  “I wanted her to know someone was here with her. After she calmed down and the nurses left, it was quiet. I think she might have been aware no one was sitting with her. Her heart rate sped up, so I let her know I was still here. When I held her hand, her heart rate went down.”

  Rachel stood next to Sam. She leaned over him, holding his gaze. “You’re a nice man, Sam. If it had been her lying in the street, I have no doubt you’d have done for her what she did for you. Get some rest. I hear you’re going home tomorrow. I hope you’ll come back to check on her. We’ll see you on Sunday. The Judge does not accept excuses for Sunday dinner.” Before Sam said anything, Rachel leaned down and kissed his forehead. She whispered, “You’re a good man.”

  He sat in silence while they said goodnight to their daughter. He thought about his own parents. They weren’t able to come to San Francisco, and he was sorry for that too. His father had a heart condition and finding out his son was injured and in the hospital had caused a mild episode. Sam had spoken to them every day on the phone, but it wasn’t the same. He missed them. Elizabeth Hamilton was a lucky lady.

  Chapter Twelve

  * * *

  Wednesday, 2:40 P.M.

  JACK AND JENNA brought him home that morning and surrounded him with family. His sister, Summer, and her husband, Caleb, along with their children were happy to see him home. His niece and all three of his nephews played in the living room while all the adults watched him. Sam knew he looked like hell, but figured his outside should reflect what he felt on the inside. He couldn’t muster up enough energy to do anything about his appearance or his attitude.

  He’d sat there for over an hour watching the two families interact, until he couldn’t take it anymore. Not the scenes in his head, the scream echoing in his ears, the love between Jack and Jenna and Summer and Caleb, the children happily romping around the room. He couldn’t take himself another minute. Rising from where he’d planted himself on the couch, no small feat since his back was killing him, he went to the bar. Everyone’s eyes bored into his back, but he didn’t care. Pouring a double shot of whiskey, he knocked it back in one long gulp. When the sting in his throat and gut subsided, he poured another and knocked it back just as quickly. Jack came up behind him, and just for spite, he poured himself another. Before he downed that one too, his brother clamped a hand over the glass and held it down.

  Sam refused to look up. “Don’t you have a ranch in Colorado to run?”

  Jack leaned into his ear. “Don’t you think drinking yourself into oblivion is a stupid idea considering the amount of painkillers you’ve already taken?”

  Jack wasn’t about to let Sam self-destruct. Sam was sinking into depression. The doctor had warned them before they left the hospital. They didn’t need the doctor’s opinion, however, because they could see for themselves Sam wasn’t thinking clearly about anything.

  Before walking out of the his hospital room, he’d turned back to Elizabeth. Nearly five minutes passed as Sam stood like a statue staring at her, probably trying to will her to wake up.

  “I’m worried about you, Sam. This isn’t like you. You’ve been undercover before and things haven’t gone the way you expected. People have even gotten hurt. It’s never affected you this deeply. What makes this case so different?”

  What was different? Sam didn’t know what was different.

  Yeah, there’d been lots of other cases and people sometimes got hurt in the process, but they were usually other agents, or the bad guys. Rarely was a civilian involved.

  What was different? He was different. He didn’t listen to his instincts and allowed himself to be abducted by the Silver Fox. He hadn’t been able to tell the difference between Elizabeth trying to help him or hurt him.

  “Elizabeth,” he whispered on a ragged exhale.

  She was the difference. She’d been home baking cookies for sick children. Now she was in the hospital holding on to her life by a thread because of him. He couldn’t stand it. He turned away from the bar and walked past his staring family and went to his room, slamming the door behind him. He would have thrown himself down on the bed, but his back hurt something fierce and the whiskey rolled around in his gut. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he did something he hadn’t done since he was a very young boy. He cried. He let the tears slide down his cheeks. Burying his face in his hands while he rested his elbows on his thighs, he let the despair and sadness wash over him and swallow him up. He fell to his side on the pillow, put his legs up on the bed, and even though sleeping on his side hurt like a son of a bitch, he finally fell into a deep sleep. The drugs and alcohol would at least give him the blackness he had once tried so hard to escape, and now welcomed.

  Thursday, 12:35 A.M.

  HE COULDN’T SLEEP. He’d spent the day avoiding his family locked in his room. Jack had come in several times to check on him, and each time Sam had either pretended to sleep, or simply yelled at him to go away.

  With the house quiet and everyone asleep, he snuck out of the penthouse and went for a walk. He needed to get out, get away. Too bad he couldn’t escape his own thoughts. The cool night air helped to clear his mind. He tried to concentrate on the city, the lights, the noise. Even at this late hour, people were out and about. He passed by several bars, music pouring out and people talking and playing pool. Many of the restaurants were closed, but the streets were filled with lights and people everywhere.

  No direction or destination in mind, he aimlessly cruised the streets. After a half hour of wondering downtown, he hailed a cab and ended up at the hospital. He needed to see her and make sure she was okay.

  He entered the ICU and the staff greeted him. They knew where he was headed, straight to Elizabeth’s room. No one objected to his late-night visit.

  They had removed the tubes in her chest for drainage. He figured that was a good sign. Her internal injuries were healing, leaving less of a chance of infection. The sheet was pulled up under her arms and her hands lay still by her side.

  Someone had pulled her shoulder-length brown hair away from her face and used a headband to keep it in place. She looked so young with her face exposed like that. Her lip wasn’t swollen any longer. The bruises on her face and neck were fading to mostly ugly yellow and green colors now. Dark circles stood out under her eyes. For someone who’d slept for a week, she sure didn’t look rested.

  A bandage covered her right upper arm where he’d shot her. Her leg had been taken out of the sling and lay hidden under the sheet, probably still bandaged. They didn’t have her leaning on her side any longer. He supposed the bullet holes in her back must be healed enough for her to lie flat.

  He stood beside her bed looking down at her taking in every inch of her body. She was a beautiful woman. He wanted to see her smile and know the sound of her voice. He wondered if her laugh was soft or whole-hearted. He wondered what color eyes she had. Where they brown like her father’s and brother’s, or blue like her mother’s, maybe a shade all her own? She liked to bake, but he wondered what else she liked to do. Did she prefer the city, or would she like the ranch in Colorado? She apparently liked birds, and he wondered if she liked horses, and had she ever been riding? He’d like to see her atop a horse with her hair flying in the wind. Hell, he’d like to see her do anything besides lie like a statue with her skin as pale as white marble.

  “She’s doing better. The doctors took out the tubes and sewed up her chest. They’ve decreased her sedatives and hope she might wake up in the next couple of days. She’s a strong one, hasn’t had an anxiety attack since before you left.”

  Sam hadn’t heard the nurse come in; he’d been so focused on Elizabeth, taking inventory of every injury and mark on her body. “She is strong. She moved me from the middle of the street under a car. I probably outweigh her by sixty pounds, and I’m at least four inches taller than her.”

&nbs
p; “Determination can help you do just about anything, I imagine. I need to change the bandage on her thigh. You can stay if you like. I’ll only be a few minutes, and then I’ll leave you to your visit.”

  The nurse uncovered Elizabeth’s leg. Very gently, she bent Elizabeth’s knee and unwrapped the gauze holding the bandage in place. When she took the bandage off to reveal the long stitched cut, Sam winced. About four inches long, the wound was bad. She cleaned it, put a new bandage on, and wound gauze around her leg again. She gently put Elizabeth’s leg back down on the bed and covered it with the sheet.

  “It looks good. The infection is under control and probably gone by now with all the antibiotics she’s had over the past week. They had to repair the muscle and ligament, that’s why the cut is so long. The knife wound was only the size of the blade, I’m told. The knife was still in her leg when they brought her in. I believe the FBI took the knife and bullets as evidence.”

  The nurse left after that comment. She was trying to be helpful by giving him the information, but he really didn’t want to hear it.

  Sitting in the chair next to Elizabeth, he took her hand in his. The warmth of it always surprised him. He sat staring at her face hoping beyond hope she would wake up and tell him she was fine, that it was all a bad dream, some sick joke on him. Not going to happen, but he wished for it all the same. Softly rubbing his thumb on the back of her hand, he watched her sleep. Everything about her peaceful.

  Although he’d pretended to sleep most of the day to avoid everyone at home, the late hour and fatigue weighed on him. The pain medication and muscle relaxers weren’t doing him any good. If he moved too fast, his back went into spasms that shot pain up his spine and down his legs. Every breath made his cracked ribs throb.

  He thought he might get a few things off his chest. They were alone. She was unconscious. It didn’t really matter what he said, she wouldn’t remember anyway. Right?

  Someone is holding my hand. She tried to come back to herself. Floating in the depths of a black ooze. Everything muffled around her, so empty and dark.

  “It’s me, Special Agent Sam Turner. I’m the one you helped. I wanted to say thank you for what you did. I know you must be hurting. I know what it’s like to be in that empty darkness I imagine you’re in, like I was after I was drugged and you saved my life. I came tonight because I can’t stop thinking about you.”

  She heard him, but it was like listening underwater, all muffled. He was talking. Her father? Maybe one of her brothers. No, it was someone else. Who was here? The man who attacked her? Worry and fear engulfed her.

  “I hope you wake up soon. I’d really like to thank you when you’re conscious and will remember that I’m truly grateful for what you did for me. If it hadn’t been for you, I’d be dead.”

  Thank me. Who wants to thank me? It’s the man in the street. She tried to open her eyes, but her lids felt like hundred pound weights.

  The heart monitor sped up, and Sam hoped it didn’t signal another anxiety attack. “You’re okay. No one will hurt you. Can you hear me?” He remembered hearing Jenna that first night. “If you can hear me, try to open your eyes, or squeeze my hand.”

  She tried to open her eyes, but it was no use. Her hands didn’t heed the commands from her brain. All she managed was a tap of her index finger against his rough skin.

  “You can hear me. I’m Sam, Sam Turner with the FBI. I’m the guy you found in the street.” She moved her finger again. He didn’t think something so simple could make him feel so good. She heard him, and she tried to respond.

  “Are you okay? Are you in pain?”

  Now, how am I supposed to answer that question? The darkness tried to swallow her again, but she liked his voice and fought to hear more from him. He was okay. She saved him. She hurt everywhere and wanted to tell him before the darkness took over. She wanted to sink back into the ooze and not feel.

  She moved her finger one time. He remembered seeing a movie once where the guy couldn’t speak, so he blinked. One was yes and two was no, or was it the other way around?

  “Okay. Let’s try this, one for yes, two for no.” She moved her finger once. “Yes. Okay. We’re in business. Are you in pain?” One move. “Oh God, sweetheart. I’m sorry. Do you want me to get the doctor to give you more pain medication?” Two moves. “No. But you said you’re in pain.” Two moves. “Okay. No more meds. Probably just knock you back into the black oblivion.” One move. He hadn’t expected an answer, but now he knew she was probably holding on before the blackness swallowed her again. “Are you comfortable?” Two moves. “Of course not, you’re in pain. Stupid question.” One move. He smiled. “At least you have your sense of humor.” One move.

  She liked him. He had a nice deep, rough voice, and she really wanted to open her eyes and look at him. Tired, she wasn’t sure how long she’d be able to hang on. She wanted him to keep talking, so she could feel alive a little longer.

  “I don’t know what to say. You’re going to be okay.” One move. “Good. I’m glad you agree. I’ve been worried, since you haven’t woken up in a week.” She pressed her finger down on his palm and her heart rate accelerated.

  A week! She’d been unconscious for a week. Oh, God. Her business. Her family. They must be so worried.

  “It’s okay, sweetheart. You were hurt pretty bad. Do you remember what happened?”

  Nothing. She didn’t move. He was about to sit back and relax when her heart rate jumped. She pressed down on his palm again. One move. Yes.

  “It’s okay. It’s over. You’re safe. The nurses will come in and make me leave if you don’t calm down.” Two moves. “No, huh. Don’t want me to go.” Two moves. “I’m not going anywhere. Not as long as you’re communicating. I can’t sleep anyway. I keep replaying that night in my mind.” One move. “You too?” One move. “I wake up in a cold sweat hearing you scream.” Two moves. “Yes. All the time.” He didn’t want to think about it anymore. “Are you getting tired?” One move. “Okay, I’ll sit here with you. You go to sleep and when you come back to the surface again, I’ll be here.” Two moves. “I thought you wanted me to stay?” One move. “Okay. Stay and what? Do you want something?” One move. “Well, how am I supposed to figure that out?”

  She didn’t know. All she wanted was for him to keep talking. The sound of his voice was soothing and helped her keep the darkness at bay. She would probably fall asleep soon, but she wanted to hear him. She thought she’d give her voice a try. She couldn’t get her eyes open, but maybe she could get out a word or two.

  “Talk,” came the soft whisper.

  “I heard you, sweetheart. That’s good. I heard you.”

  He held her hand to his cheek. He felt good for the first time in a long while and all it had taken was for Elizabeth to whisper to him.

  “Talk, huh. That’s a lot to ask an FBI agent, and a guy for that matter. I’m trained to keep my mouth shut and let everyone else do the talking. You can learn a lot from listening to other people. Let them talk long enough, they usually reveal a lot more than they intend. I don’t know you that well. I was passed out in the bed next to you for several days. I was drugged when you found me in the street. Let’s stay away from that night, too many bad memories for both of us.

  “I’ve met your family. Your brothers want to kill me. Daniel got in my face the first time I actually made it out of bed and to my feet.” Two moves. “Yes, he did. He’s really angry about what happened, and I don’t blame him. You heard him yelling at me and set off all the bells and whistles. You’ve given us quite a few scares over the past week.” One move. He squeezed her hand to let her know it was okay. “Your father wanted to kill me, but decided I was just stupid for making a mistake. He warned me not to do it again. Your mother is something else. She treats me like I’m one of her kids. She listened to me complain, and she kissed me on the head. I’ve been invited to Sunday dinner here in your room with your family.” One move.

  “You want me here too?” One move. “I don
’t know why you would. I’m the reason you’re in the hospital in the first place.” Two moves. “No, huh. Well, we can argue about that when you’re strong enough to open your eyes and speak more than one word.” One move. He smiled and squeezed her hand. “I imagine with a judge for a father and two brothers who are lawyers you’re pretty good at arguing.” One move.

  “You’re probably wondering about me.” One move. “Let’s see. I have a younger sister, Summer. She’s married to my brother’s best friend, Caleb. They have a beautiful little girl named Lily and a little boy named Jacob. My brother, Jack, is married to Jenna Caldwell Merrick, now Turner. She runs Merrick International. They have twin boys, Sam and Matt. Oh yeah, Jack is my identical twin.” One move. “Yeah, we look exactly alike. Well, at least we do when I’m all cleaned up, and I haven’t been undercover for months. Anyway, they live on the family ranch in Colorado. Jack and Caleb run the ranch. Summer takes care of the children when Jenna comes here for business. She and Jack have a penthouse here, and I live there. I spend a lot of time undercover and working cases all over the place, so when Jenna’s in town, she’s in charge of keeping track of me. I don’t mind. She’s really great. I helped save her from her ex-husband a couple of years ago. You may have heard the story.” Two moves.

  “No. I’m surprised. It was in all the papers. Well, it’s a long story, but at least it’ll allow me to keep talking to you.” One move. “Okay, I’ll tell you what happened and how Jenna became part of the family.”

  He talked about his family and all that had happened over the past couple of years. He told her how he was getting burned out on his job, and how he’d ended up not listening to his instincts the night she saved him. He didn’t know when she’d finally fallen back into a deep sleep. He didn’t care. It was cathartic to sit and talk to her, even if she couldn’t talk to him. Maybe that’s why he felt better for it. He emptied himself of his burdens without having to listen to someone tell him he was stupid, or what he should do. He could figure that out for himself. He didn’t need someone to tell him he needed time away from the Bureau to center himself again, or he’d be no good to himself or anyone else.