Dangerous to Love

by Sally Tyler Hayes

  Either way, Dan would be ready.

  Jamie’s head throbbed dully. Her chest hurt, too. Her entire body felt like one big bruise, heavy and stiff and sore. She was faintly hungry, would kill for a glass of water and she was afraid. Automatically, she reached for the gun she normally wore in a holster under her left arm.

  It wasn’t there.

  Somewhere inside her head, the knowledge of what had happened was lurking, waiting for her to find it, to deal with it. Involuntarily, she shuddered, the slight movement painful and frightening.

  She didn’t want to remember. The temptation to close her eyes and drift back off into the fog was looking more attractive all the time. But she sensed a great deal of time had passed already while she was in never-never land.

  Slowly, carefully, she looked all around the room, a small, simply furnished bedroom. She was certain she’d never been here before.

  Turning her head, she felt the first flickering of awareness that she wasn’t alone. She heard someone breathing. Turning farther to the right, she saw a hand—a man’s hand, large and tanned, lying palm up, the fingers relaxed and open against the side of the bed in which she was lying.

  She went utterly still, studying that hand.

  Images were coming back to her. Hands that hurt. Hands curled into tight fists. Bare, bruised knuckles. The slap of an open palm. Pain.

  Inside, she recoiled from the memories, from the images and the sounds, but she couldn’t escape them. They were inside her own head, all around her.

  That was why it hurt so bad when she moved.

  The urge to get up and run was strong. But from the way her head had throbbed when she’d done nothing but turn to the right, she doubted she’d get very far.

  Determined to know what she was facing, she looked to the right again, saw the hand, followed the length of a solid, muscular arm encased in a brown shirt, the sleeves rolled up nearly to the elbow. The arm was attached to broad shoulders, to the body of a man reclining in a big chair pulled to the side of her bed. His head was tilted back against the far side of the chair, her line of sight showing her a glimpse of brownish-blond hair that tended to curl at the ends and a jaw in desperate need of a shave.

  “Dan,” she said, her voice not much more than a rusty whisper.

  He didn’t stir.

  She reached out to touch him, even as she prayed that he was real and not some image conjured up by her jumbled, aching head. He’d been a part of her dreams. He’d murmured reassuring words, held her hand and brushed away her tears, kissed her aching head. She had no idea how much of it had been real.

  Whatever time had passed had left her with the sensation of sinking below the surface of water, the world fading away. Every now and then, she managed to get to the surface. She’d have a second or two in the real world, then she’d slip beneath the water again.

  This time, she thought, reaching for him, this time it was real.

  Her fingers settled against the warm, reassuringly solid flesh of his forearm. He was next to her. As far as she was concerned, there was no better place in the world to be.

  She watched and waited, felt reassured simply by touching him. He shifted this way and that. Suddenly, he went absolutely still. She waited beside him, motionless. Nothing moved except his eyelids. He stared at her, warily. Maybe he didn’t believe what he was seeing, just as she’d been scared to believe what her own eyes told her. Dan. Jamie tried to summon a smile for him. He shifted again in the chair, sitting up straight this time, still watching her in that intense, silent way of his.

  “You’re real,” she said. “I didn’t believe it until I touched you.”

  His smile was slow to come and a little sad. His hand cupped the side of her face, his fingers spread wide and slid into her hair, his thumb traced the line of her mouth. She leaned into the touch, welcoming it, savoring it. Her eyes flooded with tears. The sensations were so intense, so overwhelming. More than once, she’d believed she’d never see him again. Never touch him. Never hold him. Never, ever make love to him.

  And here he was. It seemed like a miracle to her, like the answer to a prayer. She wasn’t letting him go this time.

  Her tears spilled over, rolling down the sides of her face. He was closer now, sitting on the bed next to her. He leaned over her, his hands on either side of her face.

  “Oh, babe. Don’t.”

  He kissed her tears away, his touch the gentlest she’d ever known, curiously only making her tears fall faster. She couldn’t help it.

  “Everything’s going to be all right,” he said.

  “I know.”

  Part of those tears were from sheer relief, part of them pure joy. After all, he was here.

  He pulled away for a moment and looked at her, the intense expression on his face enough on its own to send her heart racing. She’d been right earlier. He desperately needed a shave, the shadow of his whiskers darkening his already tanned face. There were new fatigue lines at the comers of his eyes, dark, half-moon smudges beneath them. Wonderful as it was to see him, he looked exhausted. She wondered just how much time had passed, how much she’d missed.

  He kissed her again. “Don’t be scared. I’m right here.”

  “What day is it?”

  “It’s early Tuesday morning.”

  Tuesday. That couldn’t be right. She’d seen him Wednesday. Talked to him on the phone that night. Gone to work Thursday morning. Unless she’d lost nearly a week. “Tuesday?”

  He nodded.

  She got scared again. “I don’t...” she began, then the words just wouldn’t come. “A week?”

  “It’s all right,” he repeated, again and again, his lips against her ear, his body carefully surrounding hers without putting his weight on her.

  “I’m all right,” she said finally, pulling herself together by sheer force of will alone.

  Dan didn’t seem to believe her. He looked worried and so very sad. She thought again of the time she’d spent sitting by his side when he was in the hospital, thought about endless hours and agonizing waiting and terrible uncertainties. Long days, even longer nights. Bleak, uncompromising regrets that they’d wasted so much time, that they might never get their chance to be together. She studied his face carefully this time, decided he looked like a man who’d been to the verge of hell and back again, the trip taking its toll.

  “I want to hold you,” he said. “But I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.”

  “Let’s risk it,” she said, needing to feel his arms around her.

  He shifted around until he was lying on his side on the bed, then carefully fit his body against her side. He put his weight on his right elbow and leaned over her. Jamie pressed her face against the side of his neck and his shoulder, and his hand was in her hair, stroking and soothing once more.

  “God, Jamie. I wasn’t sure I’d ever see your face again. I’ve never been so scared before.”

  The words brought fresh tears to her eyes. She shifted carefully, trying to get closer to him, not caring if it did hurt. She needed him, pressed her hand flat against his chest, could feel his heart thumping away, could feel his chest rise and fall with each breath he took.

  He was so big, so solid, so very much a man, and she wanted to do nothing more than put herself in his very capable hands and let him take care of her, which seemed decidedly odd for a woman who’d fought long and hard for her independence and had to convince everyone around her that she could take care of herself.

  But she would leave the incongruities to be worked out another day, when every breath she took didn’t hurt and her head wasn’t throbbing, when she wasn’t feeling so vulnerable and so needy. Right now, she just wanted him close to her, all around her.

  She grabbed his shirt and held on to him, breathed in the scent of him and let the wonderful warmth of his body soak into her. They stayed that way for a long time. Finally, when she wasn’t so shaky and her tears had stopped, her fears receded to a manageable level, she let him ease away from her
a bit.

  He gazed down at her, with a hard, possessive stare, then seemed to be assessing her condition very carefully. “How do you feel?”

  “Like my entire body is one big bruise.”

  He grinned a little. “That’s not far from the truth. How’s your vision? Blurry?”

  “No.”

  He held up his hand. “How many fingers?”

  “Four.”

  “Good. What day is it?”

  “You just told me. It’s Tuesday.”

  “And you remembered. That’s good, too.” He turned all grim and serious again. “You scared me, babe.”

  “I scared myself.”

  “Do you remember what happened?” he said carefully.

  She nodded, her mouth gone dry. Even if it had to be done, she dreaded telling him everything, dreaded making herself remember it enough to recount the tale for him.

  “Tell me,” he said. “You talked to the cop. Russell. He took you to the scene of the liquor store robbery.”

  “Yes.” She closed her eyes, tried not to breathe too deeply, because that hurt, and launched into her story. “It was only about ten blocks from the warehouse, and I wanted to walk the route, to see what was between the two.”

  “By yourself?” he growled.

  “It was daylight. There were people all around.”

  “Okay. I’m sorry. Tell me what happened, and I’ll keep quiet.”

  “I thought I saw the girl. The one you and Gen saw get beaten up that night. She was just walking down the street, and I followed her.”

  Dan groaned.

  “I know I shouldn’t have. I know I should have taken someone down there with me. I was going to; I planned to come back that night. But I wanted to get oriented to the surroundings. And then I saw the girl. I couldn’t just let her get away. I followed her into an alley, and the next thing I knew, five guys jumped me, and I couldn’t fight off all five of them. They dragged me inside an old, abandoned building and tied me up.”

  Dan swore. She flinched, closed her eyes, shuddered at the memories coming back more clearly now. They’d threatened her, tried to intimidate her, to get her to talk to them.

  “They were asking me about the shooting at the warehouse. They wanted to know who got shot. Who got killed. Who you and Doc and Geri worked for. They thought you were FBI. And they wanted to know what was going on inside the warehouse.”

  “You’re telling me they didn’t know? How could they be a part of it and not know?”

  “I don’t know. But I swear two of them and the girl were the same ones you and Geri described. And they seemed to be caught in the middle of something they didn’t understand, something that has them scared and angry.”

  “So why did they grab you?”

  “Because I was asking questions about the shooting at the warehouse. Because they thought I had answers. Because they wanted to get someone’s attention.”

  “Whose?” he growled.

  “Whoever got them involved in this. They said they saw me with him, on a sidewalk somewhere. They thought if I wouldn’t tell them what they needed to know, they could use me to send a message to him.”

  “What’s the message?”

  “That they know who he is and where he works. That they could grab him, just as easily as they grabbed me. That if he tried to renege on their deal, he wouldn’t get away from them in one piece.”

  “Who?” Dan said. “Who are they working for?”

  “I don’t know. They didn’t use his name. They were getting frustrated because I wouldn’t answer their questions, so I didn’t think it was a good time to try to get them to answer mine. They just called him ‘the man.’”

  “So it could be anybody.”

  She nodded. “They asked a lot of questions about Hathaway.”

  “The FBI and the CIA went public with the search the day after you disappeared,” he told her. “They put out his name, plastered his photograph all over the place. Apparently he’s made some kind of advance in plastic explosives that has everybody scared out of their minds.”

  “These guys swore they didn’t have anything to do with Hathaway’s escape or with killing Doc. They seemed angry about the whole thing.”

  “Except that they were willing to shoot me and Geri.”

  “Yes, but they didn’t expect to bring the FBI or the CIA or us down on them,” she said. “Do you think it could be true that they didn’t know? That someone we know was using them? Someone we work with who just needed help getting Hathaway out of there?”

  “Tanner thinks it’s possible. He’s had Josh looking into it for the past few weeks.”

  Jamie took a minute to let that sink in. “I can’t believe Josh didn’t tell me.”

  “I don’t think he’s told anybody. The only reason he told me was because he didn’t want us going to the agency for help in finding you. He wasn’t sure who we could trust.”

  “You were looking for me?”

  “God, yes,” he groaned, bringing his face down to hers once again.

  He kissed her softly, pressed his cheek against hers and rested there beside her. She let her hand slide into his hair, holding him against her, letting him chase away the horror of what she’d been through and the fear of what was to come.

  “Where are we?” she asked.

  “You wanted to visit me at my rehab hospital. This is it.”

  “This?”

  “We’re in one of the cabins on the property. I wanted to get you out of the hospital in D.C. as quickly as possible, but you were still in bad shape. This place has a fully equipped medical center. One of the doctors on staff used to be chief of the trauma unit at a big hospital in Chicago. He’s been looking in on you. So’s one of the nurses. And two of the security guards are ex-Marines. I cut a deal with them, and they’re taking shifts watching the cabin. Josh and I rigged a security system, too.”

  She started to shake, thinking of the precautions they’d taken, the seriousness with which they viewed the situation.

  “Hey,” Dan said, looking down into her eyes. “No one’s going to get to you here.”

  She nodded, hoping that was true, but if it was someone within their own agency, she knew the kind of resources that person would have when it came to finding people.

  “Jamie, I’d kill them before I let them hurt you again.”

  She stared up at him. It was no idle threat. He meant it; he was more than capable of killing someone. “I know. I’m glad you’re here.”

  “I’m going to take good care of you, babe.” He kissed her again, softly, gently. “And I’m not letting you go this time.”

  Jamie meant to smile, meant to show him how happy that made her, but somehow she ended up crying instead, and he just held her, soothing her as best he could with his touch and the feel of his body next to hers.

  Chapter 13

  She slept again for hours, and Dan stayed beside her and held her. When she started to stir again, he called the doctor to check her over, then found himself banished from the room. When the doctor finally came out of the bedroom, he was smiling. In short, she was damned lucky, he said. Sore, weak, scared, but otherwise whole. He left a mild painkiller for her and prescribed more rest, but he reassured Dan that she was going to be fine.

  Dan hadn’t really believed it until she’d finally opened those pretty brown eyes of hers and talked to him in a way that made sense, and not in the incoherent ramblings of the first few days.

  He was headed for the bedroom when Sheri, one of the nurses who’d been helping him look after Jamie, walked into the main room of the cabin.

  “Can I see her now?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure—” she began.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong.” She smiled reassuringly. “She insisted on getting cleaned up. She’s soaking in the tub.”

  He frowned. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

  “Well, it wasn’t easy for her to get in there, but she seemed
to think it was worth the trip.” Sheri grinned. “Now, I’ve got to get home, and she’s going to need some help getting back to the bed. Think you’re up to it?”

  He thought about Jamie, naked in the tub, thought about helping her out of there, getting her dried off, dressing her and putting her back to bed. Then he grinned, too.

  Sheri did, too. “I know. Tough job, but somebody’s got to do it. You got somebody to call if you need help?”

  He nodded. “Thanks.”

  She winked at him. “Enjoy yourself.”

  Dan just stood there. Enjoy himself? He would love to. But his lady was sore and bruised and weak as a kitten. It was not the time for what he had in mind. Of course, there were a lot of things a man could do for a woman to help her feel better.

  He grinned, thinking of a night that seemed so long ago when he’d been here and she’d been so very far away, soaking in her own tub. He’d gotten lots of ideas that night, and not all of them involved strenuous activity.

  The lady deserved a little pampering, and he was certainly up to that.

  Leaning on his cane, he walked into the bedroom, then to the bathroom door that was cracked open a couple of inches. “Jamie?” he said, his back to the door. “Are you okay?”

  “Mmm.” She sounded sleepy and utterly relaxed.

  “Can I come in?”

  “Well, someone will have to sooner or later. I’ll never make it out of here without help.”

  “If that’s an invitation, I accept.”

  “Wait,” she stopped him. “Turn out the light first.”

  He reached in and flicked it off, heard the water lapping against the side of the tub and thought she must be hiding from him as best she could. He opened the door, and the windowless room was dim. She’d sunk down into the big tub so he saw nothing but her bent knees, her head and the enticing curves of her shoulders. The distortion of the rippling water, coupled with the darkness, left a lot to his imagination. But he had a very vivid imagination, and it hadn’t been that dark when she’d been stretched across his lap that day in the solarium. He remembered everything about that day, just as he’d remember every detail of this one.