Tangled Webs

by Irene Hannon

  “Look on the positive side. You have family that cares enough to be upset if you’re hurting or need help. That’s a blessing.”

  Her gentle tone didn’t contain one iota of criticism, but guilt gnawed at his conscience. Once again, she was right. During her recent trauma, there’d been no one to rant and rave at her about taking care of herself. She’d been on her own. Mac and Lance—not to mention his parents—did tend to overreact when it came to his well-being, but it was hard to fault zeal prompted by love.

  “Thanks for the perspective check.” He laced his fingers with hers and gave them a squeeze.

  “Does that mean you’ll let the EMTs look you over?”

  “Better than that.” In his gut, he’d known it would come to this sooner or later. Much as he hated doctors and hospitals, there was no sense delaying the inevitable. “I’ll have Mac and Lance drive me over to pick up my car, then Mac can take me to St. Louis while Lance follows in the SUV. The doctor I’ve been going to for my leg has all my records, and I’ll have them drop me at the ER where he’s on staff.”

  “Want some company?”

  “It could be a long day.”

  “It’s already been a long day. But sitting here, waiting for word, will make it longer. I’d rather sit with you.”

  “Sold.” He gave Mac and Lance a quick inspection, shifted position to block their view in case they decided to eavesdrop, and leaned in close for a quick kiss. “That will have to do for now.”

  “As long as there’s more to come.” Her words were a whisper of warmth against his jaw.

  Sweet.

  “Count on it.”

  He held her for a few more seconds, at last forcing himself to step back and call out to his brothers. “You win.”

  Mac gave Lance an I-told-you-so smirk. “I figured Dana would have more luck than us getting through that thick skull of yours. Let’s go.”

  “Not so fast.” Finn outlined the plan. “Then, once we get to the ER, you guys can drop me off and be on your way.”

  Lance snorted. “Like that’s gonna happen. We’re sticking with you until we get the all clear from the doc.”

  “But after that, we’ll leave you two to your own devices,” Mac amended. “Let’s roll.”

  The two brothers flanked Finn, forcing him to relinquish Dana’s hand. But in view of the fact his leg was beginning to really hurt, he didn’t argue. They’d have time together later.

  And once he was back on his feet—literally—he intended to make the most of it.

  Dana surveyed the group assembled in the ER examining room and tucked herself farther back in the corner, buying herself a few more inches of personal space. This room was not designed to accommodate three muscular ex–special forces operatives, a girlfriend, and a nurse.

  And it got even more crowded once the tall, stocky doctor joined them—but no one except the nurse left. They all just rearranged themselves around the equipment.

  “You have quite a pit crew.” The doctor edged around all of them to join Finn, who was propped up on the bed—and growing more impatient by the second. If the man hadn’t shown up within the next five minutes, Dana had a feeling the patient would have bolted.

  “What’s the word?” Finn cut to the chase.

  “The word is good overall. As far as we can tell, no concussion. But over the next twenty-four hours, you need to watch for any symptoms that could suggest complications. Drowsiness, dizziness, nausea—”

  “Confusion, double vision, headache. Yeah, yeah, I know the signs.” Finn dismissed the warning with a flip of his hand. “What about the leg?”

  “Based on my exam earlier and the MRI, it doesn’t appear you did any serious damage. All the hardware your surgeons installed is fine. Your orthopedic doctor, who reviewed the scan remotely, agrees. We’re classifying the injury as a Grade II quadriceps strain—to the rectus femoris, if you want specifics. I’m not seeing any signs of severe tearing, though. Given your general physical condition, and assuming you don’t push yourself too hard, you should feel back to normal in a week to ten days.”

  “What does he need to do?” Mac muscled in, ignoring Finn’s dark look.

  “Cold therapy is important for the first forty-eight hours. We’ll give you detailed instructions on discharge. A stretching and strengthening program might also be helpful. You can discuss all that with your doctor next week.”

  “So I can leave?”

  The doctor’s lips twitched. “Are you tired of us already?”

  Finn glanced her way, and at the heat in his eyes, Dana’s heart missed a beat. “I have plans for this evening.”

  “Then I’ll try to expedite your paperwork.” The doctor angled toward Mac and Lance. “Are you two hanging around until he’s free to go?”

  “No.”

  “Yes.”

  As Finn and his brothers spoke in unison—and with equal vehemence—Dana tried not to smile.

  “It might be wise to take advantage of their upper body strength to get you home, unless you want to resort to crutches or weigh down your friend here.” The doctor dipped his head toward her.

  Despite his obvious frustration, Finn capitulated. “Fine.”

  “You’re welcome.” Lance propped a shoulder against the wall and shoved his hands in his pockets. “And since you’re being so gracious about our generous offer of bodily assistance, you should also know that Christy is preparing our guest room for you as we speak.”

  “On that note, I’ll leave you all to work out the particulars.” The doctor wove through the crowd and disappeared out the door.

  “I’m not moving in with you guys.” Finn crossed his own arms. “You’re practically still on your honeymoon.”

  “We’ve been married for almost two months—and you’ll only be gracing us with your presence for a few days. I’ll kick you out if you try to stay too long.”

  “Trust me, that won’t be an issue. I have to be in Atlanta next week, remember?”

  “Nope.” Mac flanked him on the other side of the bed. “I talked to Dad and Mom while you were getting the MRI. He’s delayed your start date a week. And they expect a call later today.”

  “Also, Christy’s leaving some dinner for you. Enough for two, Dana.” Lance winked at her. “We’re going out to eat.”

  The nurse bustled back in, cutting off the possibility of a response. “You guys must have pull. We never get discharge papers signed this fast.”

  Once she was done with her business, Mac and Lance moved into position and steadied Finn as he stood. Then they walked him out to the drop-off area, where Lance had created his own parking spot.

  At the passenger door to the SUV, Mac released his hold. “Don’t forget to call Mom and Dad.”

  “I won’t.” Finn kept a firm hold on the doorframe. “Sorry about ruining your birthday lunch.”

  Mac shook his head. “Ruined would have been never getting the opportunity to reschedule.” His voice rasped, and he pulled his kid brother into a hug. “Take care of yourself.”

  “I will. But I think I might have some help with that too.” He aimed the half-question at her over Mac’s shoulder.

  “You will.” Dana smiled at him

  Mac released Finn and gave her his full attention. “Thanks for all you did today.”

  It was Dana’s turn to be engulfed in a bear hug.

  Then, with a mock salute, Mac strode off toward the parking lot.

  “Are you getting in or are we going to stand around here all day?” Lance elbowed Finn.

  With his help, Finn swung into the front seat while she clambered into the back.

  Forty-five minutes later, after meeting Lance’s wife, helping settle Finn on the couch in the living room with an ice pack and ottoman for his leg, and waving good-bye to his brother and sister-in-law, Dana rejoined him in the living room.

  “Sit.” He patted the couch beside him.

  “Don’t you want to eat first? Christy left a nice dinner, and breakfast was hours ago
. You must be hungry.”

  “I am.” He gave her a slow smile that set her heart racing, patted the couch again, and laid his arm across the back. “Sit.”

  She sat.

  “Better.” He pulled her close. “I thought they’d never leave.”

  She snuggled in and shifted toward him . . . just in time for his lips to meet hers.

  The kiss was a continuation of the one they’d shared in the forest—intense and passionate, fierce yet tender—but much longer.

  When he at last eased back, he didn’t go far. He simply rested his forehead against hers.

  She had to verify her lungs were still working before she could speak. “That was . . . incredible.”

  “An excellent description.”

  “Mmm.” She inhaled, long and slow. The hospital smell continued to cling to him, but beneath the whiffs of antiseptic, the scent was all masculine—and all Finn. “The one piece of upbeat news to come out of today is that you have an extra week in St. Louis.”

  “I agree. That gives me seven more days to ramp up my campaign to convince you to move to Atlanta.”

  She’d been waiting for hours to address that very subject.

  Backing off a bit, she draped her arms around his neck. “We don’t need to waste the week on that. I’ve already made my decision. I’m coming to Atlanta.”

  He blinked. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously. As I was tramping through the woods today toting that rifle, I realized I was letting fear dictate my choices. Yes, moving to Atlanta carries some risk. Our relationship might not work out. I might end up having to relocate again in three or four or six months. But you know what? An ex–Army Ranger who races through the woods to rescue a woman in distress, fixes docks, takes me for moonlight rows, treats me to homemade pie, gives up sleep to watch over me—and who kisses like a superhero—is worth taking a chance on.”

  A slow grin spread over his face. “You know what?”

  “What?”

  “I don’t think you’re taking all that big of a chance. Because my instincts tell me the electricity between us isn’t some freak lightning storm. It’s the real deal. As in till death do us part.”

  Dana’s breathing hitched. “That almost sounds like . . . like a proposal.”

  “Would you say yes if it was?”

  “I wish I was that brave—but even moving to Atlanta this fast is taking me light-years out of my comfort zone.”

  “That’s what I thought. So I’ll bide my time. And since I don’t have to spend the next week convincing you to relocate, I’ll get to work on my next mission.”

  “And what would that be?” She stroked the thick hair at the base of his neck, trying to control the temptation to pull him close again and claim another one of those amazing kisses.

  “It’s top secret—but the code name is Operation Persuasion.”

  “Mmm. I like the sound of that. Can I help in any way?”

  “Oh, I’m counting on it. Starting right now.”

  And as he leaned down to launch his campaign, Dana met him halfway—and gave him her full cooperation.

  Epilogue

  That was the best Thanksgiving dinner ever. Great job, Mom.” Finn carefully dabbed his mouth with the fancy heirloom linen napkin and set it beside his empty dessert plate. One more bite and he’d burst.

  “Finn McGregor, haven’t I told you and your brothers for years not to be afraid of those napkins? They’re sturdier than they look, or they wouldn’t have survived three generations of this clan.” His mom demonstrated by giving hers a thorough workout. “But I’m glad you enjoyed the meal.”

  Lance snorted. “If he’d enjoyed it any more, the glaze would be off the plate.”

  “Hey . . . who are you to talk? I saw you scrape the crumbs from the bottom of the pie tin.” Finn scowled at his middle brother.

  “Now, boys . . . no fighting at the table.” His dad stood, a touch of amusement mitigating the reprimand. “But at least no one threw food this year.”

  Mac snickered. “Yeah. Remember the Thanksgiving Lance and Finn started tossing rolls at each other in the middle of the meal? Where were we living then?”

  “Cameroon. We couldn’t find a turkey and had to compromise with beef kabobs. Not a popular choice with this family, let me tell you. I remember that day very well.” His mom arched an eyebrow at Mac. “And as I recall, they only launched into those shenanigans after you double-dared them to.”

  “Ah-ha. So you were an instigator as a kid.” Lisa nudged her husband. “This is a side of you I’ve never heard about before.”

  “Thanks a lot, Mom.” Mac draped his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Keep that up, you’ll ruin my knight-in-shining-armor image.”

  “Man, it’s getting deep in here.” Lance plucked at his pants leg.

  “On that note—shall we let the ladies retire to the living room while we men take over the cleanup? A family tradition, Dana—and don’t let Finn forget that down the road.”

  Beneath the table, Finn captured her hand. Thank goodness all the high-spirited banter and teasing hadn’t intimidated her. His family could be a handful when they all got together. But she’d breezed through the meal like a pro, even joining in here and there on the lighthearted jabbing.

  In other words, she fit into the McGregor clan perfectly.

  The very reason he wasn’t inclined to follow tradition today. He had much bigger plans for the next hour or two than scrubbing dirty dishes.

  After giving her fingers a squeeze, he rose, drawing her up with him. “You know I normally pull my weight at these family shindigs, but I’d like to stretch my leg. It’s feeling kind of cramped after sitting for two hours. Do you guys mind if I skip out this year and take a stroll around the block with Dana?”

  Lance narrowed his eyes as he began to gather up plates. “Convenient timing.”

  “Yeah. You made it through an extra piece of pie without complaining about your leg.” Mac shot him a disgruntled look.

  “It’s okay, Finn. Go ahead. I’ll pitch in if they need an extra set of hands.” Christy winked at him.

  “Me too,” Lisa offered.

  “No, you won’t.” Mac gave his wife a stern glance. “The doc told you to stay off your feet as much as possible for these last few weeks. And while a baby on Thanksgiving might be memorable, I’d rather spend the day here than in the hospital.”

  “Then let your brother off the hook. Dana deserves a break from this rowdy bunch, and I’m sure Finn will find a way to distract her.” Lisa sent him a knowing smile.

  Interesting how his sisters-in-law seemed to have intuitively picked up that more than an evening stroll was at stake, while his brothers’ well-honed instincts, though keen on the battlefield, left them oblivious to kinder, gentler undertones.

  “Thanks.” He urged Dana toward the door before Mac and Lance could resume their ribbing. “Let’s grab a jacket.”

  Three minutes later, after he’d pulled on a sweater and she’d donned a fleece hoodie, they stepped into the cool, late-afternoon air.

  “Is your leg really bothering you?” Dana tucked her hand in his arm as he guided her down the front walk and turned left.

  “Not much . . . but I thought you might need a break from the McGregor clan. One-on-one, we’re manageable—sort of. Put us all together, we can be overwhelming. I think we almost lost Lisa the first year she came to a big family gathering.”

  “You aren’t going to lose me. I enjoy being around your parents, and your sisters-in-law help tone down some of the testosterone that zips around whenever you and your brothers converge.” She squeezed his hand. “Are we heading for the park?”

  “Yeah.” One spot in particular, near a fountain, surrounded by gardens. Their favorite spot to stroll after having dinner with his parents. Best of all, the manicured pocket park in the subdivision was deserted more often than not . . . and very private.

  Just the kind of place he had in mind for today.

  They s
trolled for a few minutes as Finn mentally rehearsed his speech . . . until he realized the silence had stretched too long. Dana wasn’t the kind of woman who needed to fill every quiet interlude with conversation, but as a rule she liked to chat after a social event.

  He gave her a swift perusal—and frowned at her pensive expression. “Everything okay?”

  She squeezed his hand. “Yes. Sorry, I didn’t mean to zone out. I was thinking how blessed we are, and how much we have to be thankful for—which is the point of Thanksgiving, after all. Things could have ended so differently last spring.” A slight shudder rippled through her.

  “Have you been having nightmares again?” They’d plagued her for weeks following the traumatic events in the woods, though she’d only admitted that after the fact, when the shadows under her lower lashes had become too dark to mask with makeup.

  “No. They’re gone . . . forever, I hope. But if I never hold a gun again, it will be too soon.” She let out an unsteady breath. “I can’t seem to erase the memory of the moment I aimed that rifle at Phelps and p-pulled the trigger.”

  “Hey.” He paused and turned her toward him, his free hand kneading her shoulder. “You don’t have to feel any misplaced guilt about that. The man had murder on his mind. It was self-defense, pure and simple. Besides, the state trooper’s bullet ended his life, not yours. You just nicked his shoulder.” It was the same reassurance he always gave her when the subject came up.

  And she gave him the same response. “I know. But I could have killed him.”

  Finn pulled her into a hug. It didn’t take a genius to understand why a woman with Dana’s kindness and empathy, who spent every workday dealing with happy endings in those books she edited, would be distressed by the knowledge that she possessed the ability to kill.

  But he hated that she had to wrestle with undeserved remorse or self-reproach.

  At last she eased back. “You think I’m being oversensitive, don’t you?”

  “No.” His denial was immediate—and firm. “I think you’re being Dana . . . and I wouldn’t change a thing about you. Your sensitive heart is one of the reasons I fell in love with you.”