by Rita Henuber
“Yes, ma’am,” came the quick reply.
“Need medics. Two wounded federal agents aboard. I may be also.”
The lights on the cutter’s landing deck turned the night sky into day. “Deck super, get your men clear. Landing may be ugly.” Dizzy and cold, she had to hold it together for a couple more minutes. Just a couple more minutes.
Olivia adjusted her course, slipped behind the cutter and landed the helicopter hard on the deck.
The space around the chopper filled with uniformed bodies. The door to her right opened and two men, officers, were speaking to her. Tension leaked from her and she savored the familiar, comforting world surrounding her. The ocean’s scent mixed with the oil and engine smells. Crisp military voices. A tiredness like she had never felt overcame her.
One of the men standing outside the chopper was talking to her. He said his name was Mike.
“Commander Carver, can you walk?” he yelled above the rotor sound. She didn’t answer. He leaned in and flipped the engines off. She listened as they cycled down. Olivia looked at the officer and wondered why he thought she couldn’t walk.
“I’m cold.”
He stripped off his jacket and draped it over her. She moved her legs and tried to slide out but was stopped by Mike.
“Ma’am, you’re bleeding. Stay still until the medic arrives.”
He turned his head and yelled. All she needed was to get out of the fucking helicopter, a blanket and a bed. Rico and Hunter were the ones they needed to take care of. She needed sleep. Crap. She would have to go to the debriefing. She hated debriefings.
Her head hurt. An arctic chill engulfed every square inch of her body. At least everyone was being quiet now. She leaned her head on Mike’s shoulder and went to sleep.
Chapter Thirty-One
It was dark and it hurt to breathe.
No, it wasn’t dark, her eyes were closed. Olivia tried to open them and couldn’t. Some bastard had glued them shut. She took a deep breath. Oh! That hurt like hell. She tried to talk and found her lips were stuck together outside her very dry mouth. She wanted to raise her hand. Her nose itched. But she couldn’t make the hand move. Her body felt light and heavy at the same time. Quiet voices someplace near grew louder.
“Thank you, God,” Defoe’s voice said.
She got it. This was a dream. Defoe was in it. She didn’t want him in her dream. She wanted Rico in it. “Rico.”
Defoe called her nurse. She cracked one eye open. This wasn’t a dream. Defoe was there, his hands on her shoulders, pushing. She could smell beer on his breath. He was drunk and in her bedroom. She tried to sit up and the effort sent an explosion of pain through her whole body. Fuck. She’d deal with Defoe another time.
She hurt everywhere and wanted to sleep. Something nagged her, wouldn’t let her rest. What was it?
Rico. He was hurt. He needed her help. This was not the time to sleep.
“Rico?”
Olivia poured all her energy into forcing her eyes open. She managed to open one the barest of slits. A uniform filled her line of vision. Stars on the collar, left side of the shirt filled with commendations, ribbons and badges. An admiral. She closed her eye again.
This was another dream, had to be. She opened the eye again. Her mother was here. Dream. Definitely.
Shit. The admiral, her mother, leaned over her. What was her mother doing in her bedroom? She twisted her head away. “Go away.” She was sure she yelled. All she heard was a tiny whisper.
There were voices and she concentrated on understanding what they were saying. Defoe. Her mother, and now Crenshaw and Turner were in her room. Enough of this shit. Forcing her eyes open took determination. The voices stopped and the first person that came into sight was Mouse, his face almost as red as his hair. She blinked and some of the smoky haze in the room cleared. Mouse looked like he was crying. What the hell? She adjusted her body, attempting to sit. The pain and hands prevented her.
Summoning all her strength, she growled, “Get off me.” The pinging sound in the room escalated, blaring like a smoke alarm.
“That’s enough. I want you goons all out of here.”
Olivia saw a nice looking, dark-haired woman in a white coat appear from between Crenshaw and Turner. The white coat came to her side and fussed with some wires there. The alarm returned to the measured pinging.
“Hi, I’m Pam Cannon, your doctor.”
It all came back in a tidal wave of vivid Technicolor memory. She was in the hospital and this was no dream.
“I’m her mother.”
“I said everybody out. No exceptions.” The doctor put her hands on the admiral, turned her and gave her a push in the direction of the door. When all were gone the woman returned her attention to the wires and tubes and adjusted one of the IVs.
“We won’t need most of these accessories now that you’re awake.” She jammed her hands in the pockets of her white coat. “How ’bout you tell me how you feel.”
“Stiff. Hurt everyplace. Hard to move. Tired. Ringing in my ears. Raise the head of this bed and I’ll feel a lot better.” The mechanics of the bed ground and gasped her to a more comfortable position. She looked at the doctor. “Now, how ’bout you tell me everything that’s wrong with me.”
Doctor Cannon tucked a rogue strand of long brown hair behind an ear and propped a hip on the bed. “Sure. To begin with, you took quite a beating, which is why you’re stiff and hurting. You took two bullets. One hit an artery. The other not so bad. You lost a lot of blood.” She patted Olivia’s arm condescendingly. “But you’re strong and healthy. A few days’ rest and you’ll feel much better.”
“Define a few days.” Olivia attempted to arrange her pillow. “The way this hurts it feels like it will be a lot longer.”
“Sorry about that. I ordered the pain meds reduced so I could check you over.” Cannon removed a syringe from her pocket and went for the IV.
“Take it easy on that. I don’t want to be out of it.”
Cannon inserted the needle into her IV and pressed the plunger. “Half. We’ll see how that does you. I’ll leave orders for more if you need it.” She cocked her head in the direction of the door. “I’m not going to let that gang back in here for now. You need rest and I—”
Olivia knew “that gang” would sneak back in at the first opportunity. “What do you know about the others who were injured?”
“Sorry.” She shook her head. “There is a man who asked to see you as soon as possible.” She retrieved a card from her coat pocket and handed it over. “A Mr. Palmer. He asked me to say he wants to talk about Rico.”
Olivia pushed back every atom of pain, chased the fog from her mind and climbed into the pilot’s seat.
“I want to see the admiral. Can cell calls be made from this room? Am I on a secured floor?”
“Eh, yes, you can make calls from here and you are on a secured floor.” She turned her head to the door. “Which makes me wonder how all those men—”
“I need to see the admiral, now!”
Chapter Thirty-Two
“Have you spoken to Sammy?” Olivia asked the admiral.
“Yes. He’s very upset.”
Olivia averted her eyes from her mother’s. She knew Sammy would be. He’d warned her she was asking for trouble looking for Danny’s killer and had begged her to stop.
“He asked me to tell you he is proud and will forever be scared of his kick-ass little sister.”
Olivia couldn’t suppress a smile.
“When did Palmer say he would be here?”
“I’m here.” An unimposing short man dressed in khakis and polo shirt stepped in and closed the door. He came to the bedside and shot a disapproving look at Admiral Hendrickson. “I asked for a private meeting, Commander.”
“The admiral is assisting me and she stays.”
“Then I’ll get right to the point. May I?” He asked for permission to put his briefcase on the bed at her feet, and she nodded. “The man you know as
Rico Cortes is gravely wounded and has asked me to speak to you for him.”
“I want to know his real name.”
“I can’t.”
“You wouldn’t be here unless he’d asked you, and you know I’m no security risk. Now, tell me his name.”
“All right,” he sighed. “Declan O’Conner.”
Declan. Declan with the green eyes O’Conner. “Go on,” she urged.
“O’Conner is in serious condition. The doctors say he will be well enough tomorrow to be moved to an undisclosed location to recover. The agency will keep him in a safe place until we are sure there is no threat of retaliation from the cartel.”
“What about the threat to my daughter?”
Palmer looked from one woman to another. “Daughter?”
“Yes, daughter. What about her safety? She’s the one who killed Silva. She needs to be protected from what’s left of his organization.”
“The fact she’s the one who killed Silva is known to less than a handful of people. We prefer to keep it that way. As far as anyone knows, the commander was abducted by the cartel and rescued by several agencies. Her involvement has not been, nor will be, written anyplace. That is the best way to protect her.
“O’Conner asked I tell you he will be in protective custody for several months. He will not be able to communicate with you in any way.” Palmer opened the briefcase and withdrew several papers. “He turned over the contents of his apartment and all monies to you.”
“Where is he?” Olivia demanded.
“I can’t tell you.”
“He’s here isn’t he?”
From the look on the man’s face she knew instantly Rico—Declan—was in this very hospital. “The fuck you can’t! I want to see him.”
“Not possible. I need you to—”
“Mr. Palmer.” Her tone caused him to give her his full attention. “You are going to take me to Declan O’Conner.”
“Or?” he said, a little too cocky.
“Or—” the admiral’s tone made Olivia’s sound like a school girl’s, “—I’ll see to it that your term with your agency is cut extremely short. I’ve spent a lot of time in Washington making friends. Don’t doubt for one second I can’t or won’t do it.”
Palmer shook his head and returned the documents to his briefcase. “I don’t know which of you is harder to deal with. O’Conner is in and out of consciousness and he threatened to kill me, when he can get out of the bed, if I didn’t bring you to see him. He refuses to take drugs for the pain until he sees you.” He snapped the briefcase shut. “Since you feel the same way, I’d be foolish to risk my life.” A smile crept across his face. “We can do this paperwork later. How long before you can be ready to go to his room?”
Olivia thought she could like this man. He’d been protecting Rico—Declan—and testing her to see if she felt the same way.
“Give us twenty minutes,” the admiral said, heading for the door. “I’ll find something for her to wear.”
“You have to be prepared.” Palmer’s tone turned somber, his expression loaded with concern. “He looks bad. Worse than it is, if that’s possible.”
“Tell me.”
“The leg and side wound will leave scars but he’ll recover. A bullet entered here—” he touched a place under his arm, “—and bounced around, did a lot of internal damage. They opened him up and played around inside him most of yesterday.”
“Yesterday?” She’d been out of it a whole day.
“Yes. He’s hooked up to a lot of machinery.” He glanced at the wires she had. “The docs say he is doing better than hoped. And there is one more thing.”
A shiver of fear snaked through her. “What?”
“O’Conner was deep undercover. He altered his appearance because, well…” The man rubbed his forehead. “To begin with, he’s a blond. He dyes his hair. And his eyes…His eyes are a most distinctive green. They stand out. He covers them with contacts.”
She sighed deeply. The python of fear constricting her chest let go.
“I know.”
“You know? Now that’s one for the books.” Palmer shook his head. “O’Conner trusted somebody.”
Admiral Hendrickson burst through the door followed by a nurse pushing a wheelchair. “Out.” She motioned to Palmer. She held up scrubs, smiling. “Something for you to change into.”
Palmer nodded to an armed guard standing at the hallway entrance and pushed Olivia toward another man waiting halfway down the hall. When they reached the door, the man swung open the door, holding it so Palmer could wheel her in. Yet another guard stood inside. Palmer asked him to leave and took her to Declan’s side.
Her heart crashed. Palmer was right, he looked horrible. Tubes and wires ran from under the sheets to a half dozen beeping machines. A clear plastic mask covered his nose and mouth. His leg was elevated, supported with straps, and heavily bandaged. His tan skin tinged gray. Wires and leads were attached to his head and shoulders. Palmer retreated a respectable distance.
She let her fingers close over Declan’s hand, stunned by how cold it felt. She pushed up and stood.
“Rico.” Her voice was little more than a whisper. She inhaled and even through the dense antiseptic hospital smell caught his familiar scent. “Declan?” she whispered again, and she felt his hand move under hers. “Declan, it’s Olivia.”
His eyelids quivered and finally cracked open. And those incredible green eyes looked at her. He freed his hand from hers and slid the mask away, doing his best to smile. She pressed her cheek against his in complete relief.
“You okay?” His voice was hardly more than a croak.
She lifted her face and nodded. “Now I am. You?”
“They’re flying me out of here tomorrow.”
“I know.”
“Wait for me.”
Was it a question or an order? She couldn’t tell.
“Not waiting. I’m going with you,” she whispered into his ear to prevent Palmer from hearing. “Don’t worry. I’m in charge now. You sleep and get better.”
During the hour Olivia was allowed to stay Declan slipped in an out of consciousness. She wanted to crawl into the bed and take his pain away. Pain he was enduring because of her. She settled for sitting quietly and resting her head on his arm while he slept. When he was awake, she stroked the blond stubble on his chin and squeezed his hand.
Chapter Thirty-Three
“Ma’am, I’ve never asked you for anything. He saved my life. I wouldn’t be here now if it wasn’t for what he did. Please.”
Admiral Hendrickson rose and kissed her forehead. “I’ve waited a long time to do something for you, baby girl. I’ll call Sammy and leave a message about what you want. Don’t worry about any of the rest. Consider it done.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“Olivia. When this is all straightened out do you think you can call me something besides ma’am or Admiral?”
Olivia nodded and her mother strode quickly from the room. Seconds later Mouse and her crew slipped inside, followed by Hunter on crutches. He walked straight to her side and gave her the once over.
“Came to thank you.” He extended his hand to shake.
Her right arm was immobilized so she slipped her left hand into his. “I think I owe you thanks also.”
“Yeah.” His big hand closed around hers.
“Hunter. If ever I am in that kind of trouble again I want you to rescue me. You and your men are the greatest.”
He leaned and she thought for a moment he was going to lay a kiss on her.
“Commander, if it’s all the same to you, you get in that kind of trouble again, call the Marines. Once flying with you was enough. And, we aren’t all that great. It’s just that everybody else sucks.” He winked and without another word turned and hobbled away.
Crenshaw, Defoe, Turner and Mouse crowded around the bed.
“How do you feel, Miss Olivia?” Mouse touched her foot, looking concerned.
“
Do you need anything?” Defoe blurted.
“I’m doing much better. I do need something, Bill. I need help from each of you.” They took a step closer.
“What do you want us to do?” Defoe asked.
She told them she was resigning from the Coast Guard and leaving with Declan. She gave them a minute to get over that shock and hit them with the next announcement.
“At my request, my mother is filing for guardianship of Mouse.” Mouse took a big step back. “This is where you come in, Bill. Will you and Jenny take him in until I get back? He needs a man’s hand. I’ll pay for everything. He’s been hanging with you a couple of days, you know he’s okay.” She talked fast to prevent Defoe from saying no. “You two—” she looked at Crenshaw and Turner, “—are closer to his age. You take him on weekends, make sure he stays out of trouble. When I get back, I’ll take over.”
No one spoke and she felt the hesitation.
“Will you do this for me?”
“What about him?” Defoe turned to look at Mouse. “This okay with you?”
He didn’t answer.
“I’m running out of time here. For crap’s sake somebody answer me.” She turned to Mouse. “You agree?” He nodded. “No trouble. You get straight As and you do what these guys say.” He nodded again.
She looked at each of her crew. “You in or not?”
“In,” they all agreed.
“One more thing. No more Mouse, from now on, we call you Scott.” The boy nodded.
“The four of you shake,” she ordered and they did.
Olivia waited uncomfortably in the wheelchair. Admiral Hendrickson stood silently beside her, looking intently at the blue MedEvac helicopter on the hospital helipad.
Dressed in jeans and a crisp white shirt, her mother stood, legs slightly separated, in the military at ease stance. Olivia knew her to be in her fifties but she could easily pass for ten to fifteen years younger.
Last night they’d talked and it had been rough. Olivia had laid into the admiral, holding nothing back. Recalling every hurt and blaming her for everything, including Danny’s death. The admiral sat silently through it all. When the tirade was finished, she apologized for everything—except Danny’s death.