His expression warmed again. “That’s the best news I’ve had all day.”
Darby gave him a little wave as they rolled the gurney into the surgical suite, and she sent up a prayer for him. When she turned to go back to Savannah’s room, Hunter was waiting a few steps away. He opened his arms, and she walked into his hug. “And now we wait.”
“Come on,” he said. “I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.”
* * *
Two hours later, Darby stood by Connor’s hospital bed and rubbed his arm, coaxing him awake. His mother stood on the opposite side of the bed while his father and Hunter hovered close by. When he opened his eyes groggily and blinked at the light, she gave him a bright smile. “Welcome back. You’re all done. Donation complete.”
His hand moved to his hip, where the surgeon had removed marrow from Connor’s pelvic bone with a large hollow needle. He grunted tiredly. “Good.”
“Hi, darling,” Julia said, patting his cheek. “How do you feel?”
“I’m fine, Mom.”
A nurse moved up beside Darby and checked his IV bag. “Hey there. Can you tell me your name?”
Another grunt. “Which one?”
When the nurse scowled, he quickly said, “Connor Mansfield.”
She pulled out a gadget that scanned his hospital ID band on his wrist. “Can you rate your pain for me from one to ten?”
He rubbed his hip again, his face creasing in a grimace. “Eight.”
Darby bit her lip, concerned for him.
“Doctor says you can have a painkiller if you want it. Shall I get it?” the nurse asked.
He closed his eyes again and breathed deeply. “Naw. I’ll be all right.”
“Connor...” Julia groaned.
The nurse chuckled. “You know, you don’t get any medals for unnecessary suffering. And since I’m the one on duty tonight, I’d rather you were comfortable and able to rest.”
He met Darby’s eyes and asked softly, “How’s Savannah?”
Darby fidgeted, straightening his sheets. “Not out of surgery yet, but the update we got a few minutes ago was she’s doing fine.”
He glanced past her toward the door. “And the marshals...?”
“Marshal Ramsey is posted at your door. Morris will be outside Savannah’s room, and Jones will be roaming, keeping a general watch.” She stroked the side of his face. “You’ve earned a rest. Take the painkiller.”
He glanced from Darby to the nurse and tugged up a grin. “Fine. Give me the drugs.”
“Got it. I’ll be right back. If you need anything tonight, my name is Anna. Just push the blue button on that cord.” Anna disappeared into the hall but was back moments later with a hypodermic needle and a handful of supplies.
Darby couldn’t help but grin seeing the wary way Connor eyed the needle.
“What’s your name and date of birth?” Anna asked.
“Really?” Connor said. “Didn’t you just ask me that?”
“Hospital protocol. Just play along.”
He answered, and with a nod, Anna checked and scanned his ID band again, swabbed his IV port with antiseptic and injected the medicine through the port. As Anna was finishing, Dr. Reed stepped into the room, still in her surgical scrubs.
She tugged down her mask and smiled at them all. “I thought I’d find everyone in here.”
Darby sat straighter, her heart thundering. “Is the transplant finished? Is she okay?”
“She’s fine. They have her in recovery, and all her vital signs look good. She’s a trooper, your daughter. You can see her when they get her back in the isolation room in about thirty minutes.”
Relief, sweet and strong, poured through Darby, and she sank back in the chair by Connor’s bed, shaking. “Thank God. And thank you, Dr. Reed.”
The doctor acknowledged her with a small nod. “Savor passing this hurdle. It’s huge and important and deserves celebrating. But be aware she still has a tough road ahead. We’ll be watching her for signs of tissue rejection, infection and other complications. If her body accepts the marrow donation, she’ll still need to stay in isolation for several weeks while her body regenerates its immunity and builds a healthy blood supply.”
Darby noticed what went unsaid. “And if she rejects the donated marrow?”
Dr. Reed hesitated, clearly choosing her words. “We’ll cross that bridge only if we need to. Stay positive. Okay?”
Darby’s stomach rolled, and she tried to push down the worry that came with what-if.
“Okay,” she croaked.
Connor reached over and laced his fingers with hers. “Breathe, sweetheart. My marrow is gold, remember? We got this.”
Dr. Reed excused herself, promising to keep them updated, and when she’d left, Stan pushed away from the wall where he’d been leaning. “Julia, now that you’ve seen that your boy’s okay and know that his baby is in recovery, what do you say we get some lunch? I’m starved.”
Julia pulled a face. “You’re always hungry.”
“True, but let’s give Darby some private time with Connor.” Stan took his wife’s elbow and nudged her toward the door. “We’ll see you in a little while, son.”
Hunter fired a finger and thumb gun at his brother and winked at Darby. “I’m gonna head, too, and let you rest. You done good, bro.”
Darby scooted her chair closer to the bed once his family left. As eager as she was to be at her daughter’s side, Darby found that being with Connor gave her comfort and strength. His optimism buoyed her spirits, and she needed that now, more than ever. She’d missed his good-natured teasing, his glass-half-full mentality and his unflagging belief in her.
“Can I get you anything?” She rubbed the back of his hand, his fingers still laced with hers.
“How about a kiss?” His lips twisted in a wickedly seductive grin that made her skin tingle.
“Well...” She glanced toward the door, her own teasing smile burgeoning. “I can see if Anna will kiss you. She did say call if you need anything. Or maybe the dietary lady when she brings you dinner—”
He laughed and tugged on her hand. “C’mere.”
Her smile brightened as she canted toward him and gave him a quick, soft kiss.
He threaded his fingers through her hair, then cupped the side of her face. Connor’s eyes looked drowsy, and his words had become slower and less distinct. “You’re the only one I want to kiss, lady. The mother of my child.” He paused, an odd look on his face. “Mother of my child. Do you have any idea how sexy that is?”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Sexy?” she scoffed. “I think that’s the painkiller talking.”
“Uh-uh. I’ve always thought you were beautiful. From the day I met you.” He sank back in his pillow, and his eyes drifted closed. “I was so damn jealous of Hunter when he brought you home. I thought you two were a couple. I spent all of dinner that night eating my heart out and wondering how the hell my baby brother got so lucky.”
The memory of the night she’d first met Connor washed through her with the sweetness of a summer breeze. “As I recall, you spent most of dinner staring at me.”
“Did not,” he mumbled and frowned at her.
“Oh, yeah. You made me very self-conscious. I was sure I had spinach in my teeth or a stain on my blouse or a booger hanging out of my nose.”
He laughed and squeezed her hand again. Turning his face toward her, he opened his eyes and gave a sleepy sigh. “Nah. I just couldn’t get enough of the prettiest auburn hair and green eyes this side of the Mississippi. And you’re still the best-looking woman in all of creation.”
She chuckled. “Now I know the drugs have kicked in. Maybe I should let you sleep.”
He rocked his head side to side and tightened his grip on her hand. “No. Stay.”
She stroked his cheek and nodded. “I will. For a few more minutes. But I’ll need to go when Savannah leaves recovery.”
“Savannah.” He closed his eyes and smiled. “Such a pretty name. Savannah Mansfield.”
Darby cleared her throat. “Actually, it’s Kent. Savannah Morgan Kent.”
A mix of emotions passed over his face. “Morgan. You gave her my middle name.”
She sent him a sad smile. “Yeah. Seemed fitting.” Glancing to her purse, she asked, “Want to see pictures of her as a baby?”
His eyes found hers, lit with warmth. “You have to ask?”
Sliding her cell phone out of her pocketbook, she brought up her saved photos of Savannah and scrolled to the earliest pictures of their daughter as a newborn with pink cheeks and a dusting of dark hair.
Connor sucked in a sharp breath and exhaled a stuttering sigh. “Oh, my God. She was beautiful. The prettiest baby ever.”
Darby bit her lip and chuckled. “Naturally.”
She continued to scroll through photos of Savannah’s infancy, first steps and first birthday party. When she reached an image of Savannah with icing coating her face, she hiccupped a laugh. “Get a load of this.” She showed Connor the picture, and he smiled tiredly. “First birthday cake. She was so sleepy at the family birthday dinner, but I was determined we would have her cake before she went to bed for the night. We’d barely gotten the candle blown out and removed before she fell asleep and did a face-plant right in her mess cake.” Darby laughed at the memory. “She woke up, of course, as soon as she tried to breathe through the icing and couldn’t. Then, confused by finding herself coated in goo, she started crying.”
Connor’s forehead dented. “Poor baby.”
“Soon enough she discovered the goo was sweet and delicious, so she and Hunter spent the next several minutes swiping icing from her cheeks and eating it.”
A crooked smile tugged Connor’s cheek. “That sounds like Hunter.”
Darby brushed her finger across the screen to scroll to a more recent picture, Savannah at age three in her Easter dress. “This is another of my favorites.”
He studied the photo for a moment, and his grin faded. Connor’s eyebrows drew together in consternation. “She should have my last name.”
Darby looked down at her lap as tangled feelings resurfaced. “Yeah, well, you died before we could marry. Remember?”
Connor gripped her hand almost to the point of pain, and she glanced up sharply. The intensity of the gold stare she met sent a tremor through her.
“So marry me now. I want you and Savannah both to have my name.”
Darby’s heart lurched. “What?”
“It’s what we’d planned before I went into WitSec. We can get a justice of the peace or the hospital chaplain to come—”
“Connor, stop.” She wrenched her hand from his and shook it to get the blood circulating again. “Think about what you’re saying!”
“I don’t need to think about it. It feels right. It is right.” Determination and conviction set his jaw and shone in his gaze.
Her pulse raced so hard her head spun. At one time, marrying Connor and growing old with him had been her heart’s desire, a dream within her reach. Now he was offering her another chance at the dream that had been snatched from her. She should be grabbing on with both hands. But she couldn’t. How could she marry a man she knew planned to leave her in a few days?
She wilted in the chair and gaped at him. “Right for you maybe. But what happens afterward? Your plan is to leave. Would you walk out again, go back into WitSec, leaving behind a wife and child?”
He hesitated, blinking hard, clearly struggling to think while the painkiller coursed through him. “So you’d go with me. Families can join WitSec.”
“Connor, Savannah is sick! She’s not going anywhere for weeks. You heard the doctor. And Marshals Jones and Raleigh told you how difficult it is to hide a sick child because of medical records and all the personnel in doctors’ offices who might talk to the wrong person.”
He scrubbed a hand on his face and groaned. “I want her to have my name. I want her to know I’m her father.”
“No. You can’t give her a gift like that and then rip it away from her the next day!” Darby’s hands were shaking, and she fisted them to try to still the tremors. But nothing could calm the trembling in her soul. “How do you think she’d feel knowing she had a father who left her?”
Connor gave her a pained look. “I’m not your father.”
A sharp pain stabbed her under her ribs. “I know that.”
“I’m not leaving because I want to.” His tone matched the fierce look that blazed in his gaze. “If I knew any other way to keep you safe—”
She shoved abruptly to her feet. “I can’t have this conversation. Not now. Not today.”
“Darby...”
She stalked toward the door.
“Yeah, who’s running away now?”
She stopped and took a slow breath to rein in her temper before turning. “It’s almost time for them to bring Savannah out of recovery. I promised her I’d be there when they take her to her room.”
With effort, Connor sat up in the bed. His expression reflected remorse and a bone-deep weariness. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m just so...” He paused and lifted a heartbreaking gaze. She saw longing, love and broken dreams etched in the lines of his face. “Give her my love. I’ll try to visit her later if the doctor will let me.”
She nodded. “All right.”
He wobbled as if dizzy and flopped back on the bed. “I think you’re right about the painkiller. I should probably sleep now.”
Darby started for the door again, but she hesitated and returned to the bed. Bending at the waist, she brushed a hand along the side of Connor’s face and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Sleep well. I’ll check in on you in a couple hours.”
* * *
Late that night, Connor lay in his hospital room, not quite awake but too keyed up to get fully to sleep, either. A night nurse bustled into the room, turned on a small light and approached the side of his bed. He blinked away his grogginess, noting that he had a male nurse now. Odd. He’d thought what’s-her-name?—he fumbled muzzily for the nurse’s name...oh, yeah, Anna—had said she’d be on duty through the night.
Knowing the routine, he dutifully stuck out his wrist, so the nurse could scan his ID bracelet. Before it was asked, he answered the question that had been the first from every other nurse who had been in to check on him today. “The pain’s manageable. I don’t need anything for it.”
Ignoring Connor’s ID bracelet, the guy in ill-fitting scrubs glanced at him and jerked a nod. “Good.”
“What’s that?” Connor asked, nodding to the syringe the guy pulled out of his pocket.
“This will help you sleep.” The nurse gripped Connor’s arm and turned it so the IV port was accessible.
“I didn’t ask for help getting to sleep.” A prickle started at the base of Connor’s neck. A warning. Connor tugged his arm back when the nurse moved the syringe near the port.
The male nurse tightened his grip and tugged Connor’s arm close again. “Doctor’s orders.”
More alarms sounded when the nurse jabbed the syringe needle in Connor’s IV port without wiping the port first with an alcohol swab. The break from routine and careless disregard of sanitary procedure irritated him. Just that morning, his doctor had explained how important sanitation would be since his marrow donation left his immunity compromised for several days as he recovered. In a heartbeat, he reviewed the other lapses the male nurse had made just since entering Connor’s room.
He hadn’t washed his hands. He hadn’t consulted the chart detailing Connor’s most recent vital signs. Hadn’t verified Connor’s name and birth date.
&nbs
p; Warning sirens now blared in his head. Adrenaline shot through him. Connor grabbed the syringe, even as the nurse started to squeeze the plunger. “No!”
The intruder—because Connor was now certain the man was not a nurse—fought back, battling to get the amber liquid from the syringe injected into Connor’s body.
“Ramsey!” Connor shouted, feeling a funny haziness creeping over him. Desperate to keep any more of the suspicious injection from getting into his system, Connor ripped the IV needle from his arm.
With the port and IV tubes dangling free, his attacker jerked the syringe from the port and swung the needle toward Connor’s neck.
Rolling away, Connor dodged the strike. He tossed back the bed covers and kicked them, mindful that his head was growing fuzzier by the second.
“Ramsey!” he called again, but the name sounded slurred to his own ears.
Connor swung his legs to the floor, but when he tried to roll out of bed, to get away from his attacker, the man’s arm snaked around his throat. His viselike grip squeezed Connor’s windpipe.
He couldn’t die. Not now. Not when he’d just found Savannah. Not when he had his first real hope that Darby would forgive him.
With his rapidly fading strength, Connor fought. He jabbed an elbow into the man’s gut. He threw his head backward and heard a satisfying pop and howl of pain as his skull busted the man’s nose.
His brain registered a shout from the door. Air rushed to his lungs when the intruder released him abruptly. The sounds of a scuffle...and a gunshot.
Blurry vision. Fuzzy head. Gasp for breath...
Connor collapsed. Then blackness.
Chapter 16
“Are you married, Marshal Morris?” Darby asked the clean-cut man sitting beside her outside Savannah’s sterile room.
He raised an eyebrow, obviously surprised by her attempt at small talk after a long evening of silence as she wrestled with the bombshell Connor had dropped. Her own circular thoughts were making her stir-crazy, and she hoped pleasant conversation with the marshal could provide a much-needed distraction.
Morris gave a tight nod. “Six years.”
The Return of Connor Mansfield Page 17