Loving Sarah (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Julie Shelton

  Finally they ripped apart, their chests heaving like bellows as they both fought for oxygen. She stared at him through hooded eyes, one hand lifting to touch his beloved face, the face she’d feared she’d never see again. A low moan behind her had her turning her head to stare, first at Phillip, now writhing in agony on the ground, then up at Nik. “Wha-what—?”

  “Vulcan Death Grip,” the big Russian said with a wink. Everyone laughed, including Sarah. Then, inexplicably, her giggles turned to sobs. Harsh, gut-wrenching sobs that wracked her slender body like the tremors of an earthquake. Jesse turned and carried her back down the hill, seating her on the fender of the Hummer. He stood between her thighs, both hands stroking up and down her back, holding her trembling body until finally, exhausted, she sagged limply against him. Wordless, he pushed her back, tilting her head upward so he could inspect the cuts and scrapes on her neck. Reaching into his back jeans pocket, he retrieved a clean white handkerchief and gently blotted the seeping blood.

  Then he straightened to examine her face. Her left eye was completely swollen shut and already turning several shades of purple. Blood oozed sluggishly from a jagged, inch-long gash along her cheekbone. He lifted his hand toward it and she winced, hissing in her breath sharply, anticipating the pain his touch would bring.

  His hand dropped. With a groan, he put his arms around her, drawing her gently into his embrace, as if she were as fragile as an eggshell. “Christ, Sarah, I love you so much,” he whispered hoarsely. “You’re my life. If I had lost you…” His throat closed, rendering him incapable of finishing the thought.

  For a long, silent moment they just held each other, until their heartbeats settled into a normal rhythm. Then she opened her eyes and glanced up the hill toward the Lexus. As if released by her look, everyone began walking slowly down the hill toward Sarah and Jesse. Adam was out in front, tucking his weapon into his jeans at the small of his back. Nik and Jay followed, one on either side of Phillip Nugent, propping him up.

  Phillip’s hands were cuffed behind his back and the crotch and right leg of his khaki pants were soiled. His face was ashen; he looked utterly defeated. But when he saw Sarah looking at him, he somehow managed a growl. “Bitch. I’ll get you for—ow-w-w!” This last part was howled as Nik gave him a slap up the side of his head. It was more of a gentle tap, really, but coming from Nikolai Rostov, it nearly took Phillip’s head off. Mercifully, he took the hint and shut up.

  Sarah smiled at Adam as he approached, his own smile wide with relief. Jesse moved to stand outside her left leg, allowing Adam to take his place between her thighs. Closing his hand over hers, he kissed each captive fingertip before leaning forward to kiss her mouth. When he drew back, he bent his head to examine her torn knees. Then he took her other hand in his, turning both palms up to examine the abrasions there. Lifting them to his mouth, he kissed them reverently. “We need to get you to the hospital, sweetheart.”

  She grimaced. “Is that really necessary? Can’t we just…go home? You were a Cub Scout, can’t you look after me?”

  “You took a bad hit to both cheeks,” he reminded gently. “Some of those bones are very fragile. You need to get an MRI to make sure they’re not broken. I’d also like for a plastic surgeon to check out the cuts on your neck and face. If you need stitches, I want them done right.”

  “Take the Hummer,” Jesse said, fishing the keys out of his pocket and handing them to Adam. “Nik and Jay and I’ll use your car to take Newhope down to the jail and get him settled in his fancy new digs.”

  “That’s Nugent,” Phillip yelled, trying to jerk free of the SEALs’ grip. All he succeeded in doing was nearly wrenching his arms out of their sockets. “The name’s Nugent!”

  Jesse gave him a hard stare, his lips twisting with contempt. “Like I give a shit what your name is, asshole,” he said before leaning in and planting one last, gentle kiss on Sarah’s lips.

  She responded, turning her face toward him like a flower turns toward the sun. When he pulled back reluctantly, she moaned in disappointment. “I know, baby, I know,” he said, stroking his finger along her jaw. “But right now, you need to get to the hospital. I’ll be along as soon as we get ol’ Newhart here safely behind bars.”

  Adam lifted her off the fender and started to carry her around the front of the car. “Wait, Adam, put me down. There’s something I need to do before we leave.”

  Carefully he set her on her feet, holding her by the shoulders until he was certain she wasn’t going to fall.

  She walked up to Nikolai Rostov and threw her arms around his waist as far as she could reach, giving him a swift hug. “Thank you, Nik.” She tilted her head back to look up into his ice blue eyes. Way, way up. “If I could reach you, I’d give you a kiss.”

  His entire face lit up with a wide grin. “No problem, devushka.” Spanning her waist with his enormous hands, he lifted her straight up, until her face was level with his own. His bald, tattooed head glistened with sweat in the dappled sunlight.

  “Thank you,” she repeated solemnly. He kissed her oh-so-gently on both cheeks, before setting her back down. “Spasiba, devushka.”

  She turned toward Jay.

  “Aw-w-w-w.” He hunched his shoulders and flapped his hands, ducking his head in his best imitation of Bashful the dwarf. Going up on tiptoe, Sarah kissed him on his left cheek.

  “Gawrsh,” he said, heaving a sigh and flopping his head around to point to his right cheek. Pressing her lips together to hide her grin, she kissed that cheek as well. Then he pointed to his mouth, his expression so hopeful, she had to laugh. With deliberate slowness, she placed her hands on both sides of his face. Holding his ears as if they were handles, she went up on tiptoe and kissed him carefully right in the middle of his forehead. “Thank you, Jay.”

  He gave her an unabashed grin. “Believe me, sweet thing, the pleasure was all mine.”

  “C’mon, sweet pea, let’s get you to the hospital.”

  * * * *

  “How is she?”

  Adam opened one eye to see Jesse striding through the open doorway. “Asleep,” he whispered. “Finally. She has a left orbital blowout fracture. I called Will Durant up in D.C. He’ll be here first thing in the morning. If she needs surgery, I want him to do it.”

  Nodding his agreement, Jesse approached the bed, looking down at the frail, tiny woman who, except for the red and purple bruises around her neck and along her swollen cheekbones, looked as white as the sheets she was resting on. A frozen gel mask covered her eyes to help reduce the swelling.

  His throat closed up, making breathing difficult. This was the woman he loved more than life itself. The woman he’d nearly lost today due to his own stupidity and shortsightedness. One of a Dom’s primary responsibilities to his sub was to keep her safe. In failing to do that, he had failed her, and the guilt was nearly eating him alive. His fists balled with rage at his sides. His heart slammed painfully against the barrier of his chest and his jaw worked as he struggled to keep the stinging tears at bay. Finally managing to uncurl his fingers, he picked up the hand Adam wasn’t holding and bent down to brush his lips lightly over the backs of her knuckles. She didn’t stir.

  “Twenty-three stitches to one of the cuts on her neck, eleven to the other,” Adam continued quietly. “They spent half an hour picking gravel and bits of debris out of her knees and hands. However, she should heal with no lasting scars. At least…not physical ones.”

  Jesse‘s lips tightened. “It never should’ve happened.”

  “I agree.” Adam shook his head. “It was all my fault, Jess. I never should’ve let her out of my sight.”

  Jesse looked startled. “I’m not blamin’ you, Adam. I just meant—”

  “It was wrong.” He shook his head. “I knew it even as I let it happen. I felt it, here.” He pressed the heel of his hand to his chest, right over his heart. “Listen, I’ll understand if you want to kick me out—”

  Jesse snorted. “Don’t be an ass. We both failed her, a
nd I’m sure as hell not kickin’ me out. Besides”—he paused—“you’re a part of us. Neither of us could possibly survive without you.”

  Adam’s throat muscles worked while he struggled with his guilt. “She’s going to be all right, Jess,” he finally said, knowing exactly what his best friend was feeling. He’d been fighting his own emotions the entire afternoon as he’d watched Sarah being examined, scanned, stitched, and sedated. “She’s going to be all right,” he said again, as if, by saying it often enough, he could make it be true.

  “We’ll make sure of it,” Jesse swore grimly. He bent to brush his lips across the corner of Sarah’s mouth, being careful not to disturb the plastic cannula in her nose that was delivering a steady supply of pure oxygen to her ravaged lungs.

  “What’s going to happen to Nugent?”

  “He was arraigned half an hour ago. U.S. Marshalls are on their way to take him back to Boston. After he’s served his sentence in Club Fed, he’ll be tried here for kidnappin’, false imprisonment, assault with a deadly weapon, attempted murder, and destruction of property. Although he swore up and down he never destroyed any property.”

  “Did you believe him?”

  “Not sure.”

  “He hit her in the face hard enough to break her cheekbone. How can you even consider believing him?”

  Jesse shrugged. “Because it doesn’t make sense to agree to all of the felonies, yet vehemently deny the misdemeanor.”

  “Why was he even here? What did he want with Sarah?”

  “He wanted her money to bail himself out of trouble. Figured if they were married, he’d have legal access to her fortune. And, just in case that didn’t work, he planned to coerce her into signin’ a last will and testament, leavin’ everythin’ to him.”

  “Bastard.”

  “No argument there.” Jesse scrubbed both hands up and down his face.

  “You look tired.”

  His mouth curved up. “It’s been a tirin’ kind of day.” He pulled up the torture device hospitals whimsically refer to as a chair and placed it on the opposite side of the bed from the one Adam was sitting in. He took Sarah’s hand in his, kissed it, then leaned back and closed his eyes. It was going to be a long night.

  * * * *

  Sarah’s entire body was one huge, throbbing ache. Her throat hurt, her face hurt, her knees and palms stung like fire. Even her hair hurt. Cautiously she opened her eyes, barely able to see through the narrow, puffy slits they had become. And what she did see was not encouraging—institution-green walls on three sides and a curtain hanging from an overhead rail on the fourth. She was obviously in a hospital, reclining against an uncomfortable, rock-hard hospital pillow on an equally uncomfortable, rock-hard hospital bed. She hated hospitals.

  A distinguished-looking man with light brown hair and green eyes behind rimless glass stood beside the bed making rapid notations on a clipboard. Like Jesse and Adam, he was tall, lean, and muscular, with that quiet air of competent authority that was so much a part of every SEAL she’d met so far. He was dressed in khaki slacks, a deep green polo shirt and a white lab coat. A stethoscope hung around his neck. When he noticed her looking at him, he smiled. “Good morning, young lady. How many fingers am I holding up?”

  “Twelve.”

  “So not funny. Try again.”

  “Two.”

  “Any double vision?”

  “Not unless you’re actually only holding up one finger. Do you have any favorites?” some inner imp made her ask. “I know I certainly do. It’s this one right”—she watched in horror as her hand lifted off the bed with all but the middle finger folded down—“here.”

  The doctor just laughed and looked at Adam. “Oh, Nitro, I do hope you’re planning to keep this one. I like her. She’s feisty.”

  She frowned. “And who are you, exactly?”

  “He’s Dr. Will Durant, sugar.” Jesse came striding into the room carrying two Styrofoam cups. He reached across the bed and handed one to Adam, then turned to Sarah as he lifted the lid and took a cautious sip from the other, the first coffee he’d had since yesterday morning. If this could be called coffee. It tasted more like crankcase sludge. “He’s a friend of ours—a maxillofacial surgeon.”

  “Surgeon!” Sarah gasped, feeling panic flutter to life within her as she stared at Jesse. “Why do I need a surgeon?”

  Jesse came to stand at the head of the bed, bending over her to place a chaste kiss on her forehead. “Bastard fractured your left eye socket, sugar. You’ll need surgery to stabilize it. But don’t worry.” He smiled. “Doc here’s the best maxillofacial surgeon in the entire country.”

  “Well, not quite the entire country, I’m afraid.” Will Durant gave Sarah a rueful shrug. “There’s a small area on the outskirts of Peoria, Illinois that has yet to acknowledge my greatness. I’ve sent out enforcers, of course, but, unfortunately, until I hear back from them, I’m only authorized to say that I’m the best maxillofacial surgeon on the entire East coast.”

  Sarah laughed, then grimaced at the pain in her face.

  “Seriously, how’s she doin’, Doc? She gonna need surgery?”

  “More than likely, although I won’t know for sure until the swelling goes down. However, you can already see that her left eyeball is sitting lower than her right, and that’s usually a sign of orbital floor disruption.”

  “When?”

  “I’ve scheduled an MRI for Friday morning at Bethesda Naval hospital. By then I should have a better idea of what we’re looking at. I’ve also booked an OR suite for Friday afternoon. I’ll arrange for Life Flight to transport her.”

  “Can we take her home in the meantime?” Jesse asked.

  “Wel-l-l…” Drawing out the syllable, Will Durant looked from his former Commander to the Team’s former demolitions expert. Jesse and Adam were two of the finest men he’d ever known and he was delighted to see they’d found their happiness. He’d do whatever it took to make sure they kept it. “Ideally, I’d like her to remain here under observation for at least 48 hours.”

  Eyebrow soaring, Jesse crossed his arms over his chest and fixed his former Team member with a stare that would have intimidated anyone other than a fellow SEAL.

  With a long-suffering sigh, Will Durant looked pointedly at Adam. “Did you get what I told you to?”

  “It’s being delivered as we speak.”

  “Okay, then, I guess you can take her home. I’ll see the three of you in my office on Friday .I’ll arrange for Life Flight to bring you in. In the meantime, keep her head raised—no lying flat on her back—and keep movement to a minimum. If the bones shift, they could pinch delicate nerve endings that could affect her sight. If she has any sharp, shooting pains or any episodes of double vision, call me immediately.”

  “No problem,” Jesse said, putting his arms around his former Team-mate in a brief, back-slapping man hug. “Thanks, for comin’, Will, especially on such short notice. If there’s ever anythin’ we can do to return the favor…”

  Dr. Durant winked at Sarah. “Just one. Take your woman home and take such good care of her she’ll never want to leave your sorry asses.”

  “I already don’t want to leave their sorry asses,” she whispered hoarsely, abandoning the attempt to smile because it hurt her face too much. “Thanks, Doc.”

  While Adam accompanied Will Durant out of the room, Sarah turned her head to look at Jesse. “Um, am I in trouble for that ‘sorry ass’ comment?” she asked.

  One eyebrow lifted. “What do you think?”

  She sighed. “I think I’m going to be spending a lot of the rest of my life bent over someone’s knees.”

  Jesse just chuckled and looked down at her indulgently. In spite of her efforts to keep it at bay, he saw the terror lingering in the background of her gaze. “Phillip—?”

  “In federal custody, on his way to Boston. He’ll never hurt you again.”

  “Is he insane?”

  “Oh, he’s worse than that. He’s a sociopa
th.” His face twisted in anguish. “Christ, Sarah, I was so fixated on Ryder Malone, it never even occurred to me to consider anyone else until it was nearly too late. We almost lost you—”

  “But you didn’t.” She shook her head gently. “I’m right here, and there’s nothing to forgive. You guys were awesome, by the way. Better than in the movies.” She started to sit up, but he grabbed her shoulders and pushed her gently back down.

  “Lie still, baby,” Jesse said, tucking a curl behind her ear with gentle fingers. “You heard the Doc. No unnecessary movement. Adam’s gone to see about gettin’ you sprung from this joint so we can take you home.”

  She put her hand on his arm. “Would Adam really have killed Phillip?”

  Jesse just shrugged. “In a heartbeat.”

  She blinked up at him, waiting to feel shocked and appalled. Instead, she only felt relief and a fierce surge of pride that the men she loved and others like them were willing to risk their lives so that people like her could be safe. “How did he and Nik and Jay manage to walk across all that gravel without making a sound?”

  “They’re SEALs,” Jesse said with another shrug, as if that were the only explanation needed.

  Two hours later Sarah found herself in yet another hospital bed, this one set up in Jesse’s bedroom—their bedroom. Die Hard was playing on the large flat-screen TV above the fireplace, but she was having difficulty following the story. She didn’t even realize she was shivering until she saw Jesse standing over her, frowning down at her. “Why didn’t you tell us you were cold, sugar?” Shaking out an oversized fleece throw, he drew it over her, tucking it in gently all around her.

  “I—I didn’t—know I was.” In spite of the extra warmth, she couldn’t stop shivering, and then, all of a sudden she was crying, the tears rolling down her cheeks, hot and silent.