by Arianna Hart
“What are you doing up north anyway? I thought you worked out of DC?”
“That’s one of those things I can’t answer.”
“Figures.” She fiddled with the IV a bit. “Okay, this bag looks like it’s almost done. Why don’t you relax while I switch it and check your dressings? If things look okay, I’m going to want you to try to walk a little bit tonight. It’ll help keep things moving.”
“Yeah, I know the drill.” And he wasn’t looking forward to it either.
“You’ve been shot before?” She looked up from the IV bag and met his gaze, giving him another one of those jolts.
“Unfortunately.”
“Where? I didn’t see any scars when I was treating you.” She blushed again.
He wondered how much of his body she’d been looking at. “Ah, in my thigh. I got hit in the femur and was out of commission for months.”
“Were you hit in the femoral artery?” She calmly and competently, checked his pulse and adjusted the lines running into his arm.
“Yeah, I got caught in the middle of a hostage situation. It wasn’t pretty.”
“I can imagine. You’re lucky you didn’t bleed to death.”
“Well, I seem to always get shot near hospitals.”
“You were talking someone down with a hostage near a hospital?”
“Ah, no, I was the hostage, in the hospital. Ouch!” Caitlyn squeezed his arm so tightly her nails dug into his skin.
“Oh, sorry. I’m just trying to picture someone holding you hostage at a hospital.”
“It’s old news.” News he had no intention of rehashing if he could avoid it. Dealing with a strung out junkie with a gun was part of the reason he’d left hostage negotiations and went into undercover work. He didn’t like talking about his past or his reasons for changing jobs. Or what it was like to face down a fifteen-year-old going through withdrawal, holding a gun in his shaking hands.
“Still, that’s scary stuff.” She looked into his eyes briefly, then looked away. “Okay, I gave you a new bag of antibiotics, so you should be all set for a while. I need to run out and get some stuff. Are you going to be all right if I leave you alone for an hour?”
“I should be fine. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.” Just thinking about walking made him wince.
“I don’t like leaving you by yourself but if I don’t go out we won’t have anything to eat. You made it through the night, which is something, so I think you’ll be okay for a little while.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine. Just leave me a phone in case I need to call you.”
“No problem, I have my cell. I’ll leave the number for you by the cordless phone.”
“Ah, do you have something other than a cordless? They aren’t exactly secure.” Neither were landlines but at least some guy couldn’t pick them up with a scanner in his car.
“That’s right. Tom’s always telling me that. I have a regular phone in my bedroom. I’ll drag it out here and plug it in.”
“Thanks.” If he had his own cell phone with its built-in scrambler, it wouldn’t be a problem but that had been lost somewhere along the way. Probably when he was stumbling around after he was shot. He was lucky he’d been able to produce his badge or Caitlyn never would have stopped for him.
Hell, he was surprised a blood-covered badge was even enough to keep her from calling 9-1-1 the second he called out to her. That was one thing Tom hadn’t exaggerated when he spoke of his sister, she didn’t rattle easily.
Mac waited for Caitlyn to get changed and fought down his reaction to the thought of her undressing one thin wall away. Feigning sleep, he waited until he heard the sound of her Jeep backing out of the driveway and counted to one hundred, slowly.
When he was reasonably sure she wasn’t going to be coming back into the apartment, he grabbed the phone and began dialing an elaborate series of numbers that would put him in touch with his boss in Washington D.C.. It was time to start doing some damage control.
* * *
That man was hiding something, and it wasn’t just to protect her. Caitlyn tore through the grocery store, trying to get as many things as she could in as short a time as possible. She’d already used up half an hour at Wal-Mart buying sweats, boxers, pajamas, and some more bandages and gauze to re-stock her depleted supply. If she actually made it back to the apartment and Mac in the hour she had allotted herself, it would be a miracle.
The fact that Mac was awake and alive this morning was miraculous in and of itself. His condition was far from stable but looked very promising. The fever was down and his wound looked a little better. She wouldn’t know for sure that he was out of the worst of it for another twenty-four hours.
Caitlyn wondered about the other bullet he had taken while she waited in the checkout line. What was an FBI agent doing as a hostage? And in a hospital no less. She might have to do some research on the web to find out about that. It didn’t look like Mac was going to be very forthcoming with information. The “No Trespassing” sign he had thrown up when she asked him about it came out loud and clear.
Caitlyn paid for her groceries and loaded them into the Jeep. Swinging out into traffic, she checked her rearview mirror to see if she was being followed. It might seem paranoid but Mac had gotten to her with all his secret agent talk. It never hurt to be a little careful, or to take a different route home for a change.
At the next red light, Caitlyn checked her mirror again. It wasn’t illogical that the same Honda that was in the grocery store parking lot was headed in the same direction but just in case she’d take a turn around the block. She wasn’t being completely paranoid, just safe. Right?
The Honda followed her. Okay, it still wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that he was going this way too, no need to be concerned. She took the next right turn without signaling and went down a residential street, looking in her rearview mirror as much as she could without driving into a telephone pole.
Brakes squealed as the Honda took the corner practically on two wheels.
Now it was time to be concerned.
Turning out of the neighborhood, Caitlyn circled around and headed for the highway. She could lose them in the maze of intersecting highways and then double back to go home. Gunning the engine, she took the on-ramp like it was the Daytona 500.
Traffic was light, which made for good maneuverability but lowered her chances of getting away. The Jeep wasn’t exactly built for high-speed car chases. Another check of the rearview mirror showed her followers getting on the highway behind her. Caitlyn pushed the Jeep even faster to dart around a tractor-trailer, then pulled over a lane to hide along side of it.
The truck cut off all her visibility. Hopefully if she couldn’t see them they couldn’t see her either. She ignored the voice in the back of her head that told her she was acting like a two year old with her eyes closed in the middle of the room saying “you can’t see me!”
The Honda hadn’t pulled out on the other side of the truck yet and Caitlyn was in an exit only lane. If she took the exit and the tail hadn’t passed her, they would just follow her again. But, if she waited much longer she’d either have to switch lanes in a hurry or take the exit and take her chances.
The green highway sign indicated the exit was in a quarter mile. Where was the car? She bit her lip in worry. Should she take the exit or not? Caitlyn took her foot off the gas pedal, slowing down to pull behind the truck when a blur of red flew by the truck’s front bumper. The Honda! They’d passed her and didn’t even know it.
Slowing down even more, Caitlyn exited and took the back roads to her apartment. She was way past the hour she had told Mac she’d be gone but at least she’d get home without being tailed.
How could they know it was her Jeep Mac had hidden under? It wasn’t like they had assigned parking spaces and she didn’t park in the same spot every night either. Something must have tipped them off. Whoever they were.
She probably should keep this little adventure to herself. If Mac was anything lik
e her brothers, the minute she told him of it he would insist on leaving to keep her out of danger, and right now he had no place to go. Why that thought made her feel so sad, she didn’t know.
Chapter Three
He had no place to go. Mac’s bladder was filled to bursting and there was no way he could get out of bed to relieve it. He didn’t want to wet the bed but he was getting desperate. The sound of a vehicle in the driveway gave him hope that Caitlyn was home. God, let that be her, because the last thing he wanted to do was piss his non-existent pants.
A key jangled in the lock and Caitlyn breezed through the door loaded down with bags.
“Sorry I’m late. You wouldn’t believe the traffic. How are you feeling?”
“Ah, okay, but can you help me to the bathroom?”
“Oh my. You’ve had three bags of fluids. I bet you’re about ready to explode. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to walk to the bathroom but I’ll get something for you to go in. Hold on a minute.” Caitlyn ran back out the door.
Mac wasn’t sure he’d last a minute. It was a fight but he managed to hold on long enough for Caitlyn to run back into the apartment with a milk jug. She cut off the top and handed it to him.
“This should work,” she said. “Do you need any help?”
“No. I think I can handle this, really.” There was no way he was going to let her help him pee too. It was bad enough having her brush his teeth. Helping him take a piss was not going to happen.
“I’ll take your word for it then.” She politely turned her back while he did his business. When he was finished, she took the nearly full jug away from him without looking him in the eye. What did she have to be embarrassed about? He was the one peeing into a milk jug, not her.
“If I had known I was setting up a clinic in my living room, I’d have brought home a bed pan and a urinal from work.”
“That’s quite all right. This works for now.”
“Good thing I recycle, otherwise you would have been peeing into a soda can.” She gave him a laugh, then headed to the bathroom.
“Did you get all your shopping done?” Mac watched her carry some blue plastic bags into the room. Man, she filled out a pair of shorts like nobody’s business. She filled out the shirt pretty damn good too. He shook his head to get those thoughts out of it. Tom would rip his head off if he knew what Mac was thinking.
“I sure did. Good thing for you you’re the same size as Jim. I got you some sweats, some pajamas, and some boxers.”
“I’ll pay you back when this is all over.”
Caitlyn looked up from where she was pulling things out of a bag and frowned at him. “I’m not worried about you owing me money, I’m just glad you’re alive.”
“Still, I pay my debts.”
“Fine, take me out to dinner when you’ve recovered and we’ll call it even. Now I better put those groceries away before they all melt. It’s hot as an oven outside.”
Mac thought about how he’d like to take her to dinner and then some but it wouldn’t be because of any debt. Watching her move around the kitchen was like watching a domestic ballet. She seemed to flow from cabinet to cabinet rather than walk. She’d disappear from his line of vision occasionally, then come back with her arms full of groceries again.
She walked back into the room carrying a large bowl and some washcloths.
“What are those for?” he asked suspiciously.
“I thought I’d dust the room. What do you think they’re for? I’m going to clean you up a bit then give you some more fluids.” She said it so professionally, he could’ve almost believed she looked at him as just another patient if it wasn’t for the blush staining her cheeks.
There was no way he was going to let her wash his naked body unless he could return the favor. “I’m all right, really.”
“No, you’re not. You have dried blood, sweat, and gravel stuck to you. Don’t worry, I’m a nurse. I do this for a living.”
“I know you’re a professional, it’s just—different.”
“I’m sure you were given a sponge bath the last time you were shot.” She poured some baby soap onto a wet cloth and lifted his arm to begin cleaning him.
His last nurse had been a battle-axe and certainly hadn’t turned him on when she cleaned him up. “Yeah, but ah, she wasn’t my best friend’s sister.” A fact he’d better keep firmly in mind.
“What does that have to do with anything? I’m still a nurse. A very competent one if I do say so myself.”
“Yeah, but—”
“No buts. I promise I won’t tell Tom that I saw you naked if you don’t. It’ll be our little secret.” Her eyes twinkled at him over reddened cheeks. “Seems we have quite a few of them now.”
She was fishing, he knew it. Too bad. She’d just have to understand that it was for her safety that he wasn’t saying anything. “So, did you have any trouble while you were out?”
Mac felt her stiffen for the barest fraction of a second, then move on to wash his other arm.
“Caitlyn, did you have any trouble?” He looked her in the eye.
“Nothing to talk about.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She was evading. What the hell had happened?
“It means what it means. There was no trouble worth talking about. Now hold still so I can scrub off some of this dried blood. It isn’t going to feel very good while I’m doing it, but at least you won’t be sticky and itchy later.”
The shock of her warm hands on his lower abdomen was enough to shut him up. At least for now. He’d find out what trouble she’d had later.
* * *
Caitlyn tried to pretend that Mac was just another patient. She’d given hundreds of sponge baths when she worked on the Medical floor. Of course none of her patients looked anything like Mac, and none of them were naked in her living room either.
Washing carefully around the gauze that was wrapped around his waist, Caitlyn tried to focus on keeping the bandages dry instead of on his washboard stomach and the tantalizing trail of black hair that arrowed between those muscles. Her hands seemed to fumble more than usual, and her head felt light from the contact.
Her body’s response should have reassured her that she was a healthy, breathing female. A woman would have to be ten days in the ground not to respond to a man like Mac.
Especially a naked Mac.
Right next to her, with an erection.
Whoa Nelly! She needed to get away and get away fast. “I think that’s clean enough for now. I’ll do the rest when you’re not so up- ah sore. Why don’t you get some rest? I’ll make up some broth for you to have after you wake up.”
“Yeah, I am feeling kind of tired. Thanks for the bath.” He wouldn’t look her in the eye. Probably a good thing.
He seemed as relieved to end the torture as she did. Still, it hadn’t been all that bad, touching those glorious muscles and tight skin. Warmth she hadn’t experienced in a while started to form in her belly and spread out, bringing a flush to her face.
“Ah, no problem. I have some work to do on my laptop. I’ll, ah, take it into the kitchen so I don’t bother you. Just shout if you need anything.” For God’s sake, get out of here before you make a complete fool of yourself! You’re practically drooling. She scooped up the wet cloths and bowl and dumped them in the bathroom sink.
Keeping her gaze firmly away from Mac, Caitlyn scurried to the kitchen, hoping she didn’t look as idiotic as she felt. Running her hands under cold water, she splashed some on her face as well. As hot as she felt, she was surprised it didn’t turn to steam on contact. It had been a long time since she felt this flustered.
Long time? Heck, she’d never felt like this before. Caitlyn shook off the weird feelings and dried her hands. She grabbed her laptop out of her briefcase by the door and clutched a handful of cords that were tangled up in the pocket.
Plugging the laptop in and setting it on the table, Caitlyn snagged a soda while she waited for the computer to boot up. Someday
she’d get a good computer, and a DSL line too for that matter. It took forever for the modem to connect.
Finally. Now, where to look? A web search of “hostages” turned up over a hundred thousand hits, scratch that idea. Okay, think O’Toole, think. A hostage situation in a hospital would be big news. She should be able to find information about it in the archives of any newspaper.
Typing in USA Today, Caitlyn searched the site for its archives from two years ago. She scanned through the by-lines looking for anything that had to do with hostages or hospitals until her eyes were about to cross. The thought of giving up the search and just playing Solitaire instead was very tempting, and Caitlyn almost gave in when a bold headline caught her attention:
HOSTAGE NEGOTIATOR WOUNDED WHILE PROTECTING INFANTS.
Caitlyn pulled up the article and enlarged the screen so she could read the small blurb.
FBI agent and negotiator Devlin McDougal was critically shot in the course of a hostage situation at St. Luke’s hospital late last night. A youth being treated for drug addiction broke into the maternity ward brandishing a gun stolen from one of the hospital’s security guards. McDougal successfully negotiated the release of five nurses and ten newborn infants but was shot in the thigh during a struggle for the weapon. The assailant was fatally shot. Agent McDougal remains in critical condition.
Ten newborns. Mac hadn’t mentioned that, only that he had been shot while being a hostage in a hospital. He’d saved ten babies and five nurses and acted like it was nothing. Caitlyn knew that her brothers wouldn’t brag about their achievements, but modesty wouldn’t stop them from mentioning them either. She looked for any other articles on the shooting but didn’t see anything.
Entering his name into the search box, she scanned the articles for something else about Mac, but came up empty. Shouldn’t there be some sort of follow up? It wasn’t every day that a man got shot saving babies. Hell this should have been made into a TV movie. Nada. It was like Mac disappeared after he entered the hospital.
Pushing herself away from the table, Caitlyn took a long drink of her soda and tried to figure out the puzzle that was Mac. Here’s a guy who works as a hostage negotiator, who apparently does a good job, and then drops off the radar only to turn up a few years later working undercover in Connecticut.