Elite Ops: Easy Target Part 27

The messenger bag continued to pull her deeper even as the pressure on the top of her head lessened. She was able to give a final, halfhearted kick, but it was no good. She was sinking, no longer able to tread water. Her lungs burned and her vision grayed out. She closed her eyes, feeling the weightlessness even as she sank.

Something was pinching her wrist and pulling her up. Her head broke the surface, and she gulped in sweet air.

Dizzy and nauseated, she coughed and sputtered. She heard shouting voices and lots of splas.h.i.+ng. A body floated motionless beside her.

Bryan was there, holding her wrist, pulling her into his arms and toward the dock. "It's over," he said. "You're okay. It's over."

She stared at him as if waking from a dream. The lights from the dock were bright on the water. His face cammo was smudged. His eyes were unreadable, and his shoulder . . .

"Your shoulder is bleeding. Are you okay?"

"I'm . . . I'm fine." But he didn't look at her as he answered.

Other hands lifted and pulled her from the water. "What about you? That was some swan dive." Nick was tugging her up onto the dock and draping his jacket over her shoulders, but she heard the concern in his voice. Then Bryan was climbing up beside her, pulling her away from Nick, and back into his arms.

"What the f.u.c.king h.e.l.l were you doing, Sa.s.sy?" Bryan's tone was rough and brusque, but there was nowhere to look but up into his face as he pulled her closer. "You could have gotten yourself killed." He kissed the top of her head, and it was then she saw the white-hot panic in his eyes. "What were you thinking, baby?"

She reached up to touch his face. "Hey, I'm okay. Really."

She smiled up at him as he kissed her forehead this time, but then she made the mistake of glancing down. Blood was streaming from her hip, down her leg, and onto the dock. Suddenly she wasn't so okay.

The dizziness was back, and once again her vision became hazy around the edges. She'd never been very good with blood.

For the second time in twenty-four hours, everything went black.

December 31 Evening BRYAN SAT BESIDE Sa.s.sy's bed in the small regional hospital, waiting for her to open her eyes. The first time she'd woken up, he'd been getting st.i.tches in his shoulder downstairs and being debriefed by Nightshade and his alphabet soup cronies. By the time the nurse had located him, Sa.s.sy had been out and down for the count.

That was when Bryan told Nightshade that if the feds couldn't talk to him in Sa.s.sy's room, they'd have to arrest him. He wasn't leaving her side again until she was awake and telling him to go away herself. Everything else could wait. And while Nightshade had cussed and fumed, eventually, he'd left them alone.

A few hours after that Marissa had suggested that perhaps a shower really shouldn't wait, and Bryan had reluctantly agreed. While he'd been showering, Sa.s.sy had woken up a second time. To her credit, Marissa had burst into the men's shower room to get him, surprising one very disgruntled and naked surgeon in the process.

True to Murphy's Law, by the time Bryan had gotten the soap out of his eyes and a towel around his waist to dash up to her room, Sa.s.sy had fallen back asleep. The doctors had said not to worry.

But that had been three hours ago, and no amount of coaxing could blast Bryan out of the room now. So here he sat, with st.i.tches in his shoulder that hurt like a b.i.t.c.h, in a leatherette recliner made for a midget. If he leaned his head back against what pa.s.sed for a headrest, his legs hung over the end at his knees so that he cut the circulation off in his s.h.i.+ns and feet. If he pulled his legs up to calf height on the footrest instead, he'd be hanging himself upside down from the other end.

It wasn't as if he could sleep anyway. Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw Sa.s.sy diving off the end of that pier, directly into Ford Johnson's gunfire. All to protect him. The nightmare didn't stop until he saw her covered in blood and pa.s.sing out in his arms.

The doctors a.s.sured him that she would be okay. It was more about a concussion combined with anesthesia and exhaustion than the gunshot wound. But he needed to see her awake and talking to believe that she was all right.

After that he would get as far away from Sa.s.sy as he possibly could. Not because he didn't want to be with her but because she wasn't safe with him.

After meeting him for coffee in Niamey, she'd been kidnapped. After flying back to New York with him, she'd almost died more times than he could count. The thought of something happening to her because of him was beyond what he could stand.

If it didn't hurt so d.a.m.n much, his situation would be laughable. He'd thought he didn't stick or want a long-term relations.h.i.+p, but that couldn't be further from the truth.

It was killing him, but he now knew that the kindest thing he could do for Sa.s.sy was to leave her the h.e.l.l alone, no matter how much he cared for her. He'd go to Mexico and see what he could do for her brother. But first, before he left, Bryan had to see for himself that she was really okay.

He didn't even look up from his pity party when the door opened. The nurses were in about every thirty minutes.

"Jesus. And I thought I looked like h.e.l.l. What have you been doing to yourself, man?"

Bryan jerked his head up at the familiar voice. Trey Smith stood in the doorway, skinny as a scarecrow and leaning on a cane. But he was alive, and he was here.

In shock, Bryan sat for a moment before scrambling to his feet and out of the ridiculous chair to embrace his friend.

"What? How?" He hugged Trey and patted him on the back but made sure not to hit too hard. Trey was so horribly thin.

Trey shook his head. "I'm not sure I even understand what happened. Last night I was asleep in my cell. When the guards came to wake me I thought . . ." His voice cracked, and he shook his head. "Two hours later I was on a private plane. Some guy named Nightshade met me at a regional airport and then drove me here."

Bryan felt the tears p.r.i.c.k at his eyes. Nightshade had just become his new favorite person. "You alright?" he asked.

Trey looked at Sa.s.sy, and his eyes filled, too. "No . . . but I'm gonna be." He walked over to the bed, but he didn't touch her. "How's our girl? Nightshade said she got shot?"

Bryan offered the recliner, then dragged a straight-back chair from across the room and sat, still marveling that his friend was here and safe. He filled Trey in on Sa.s.sy's injury and everything that had happened since last summer. Well, practically everything. He wasn't telling Trey all that he'd done with his sister.

"The doctors a.s.sure me that she's going to be okay, but I want to see for myself," he finished.

"That's good. What are you gonna do after?" asked Trey.

"After what?"

"It's obvious you care for her. You gonna make an honest woman of her or just string her along?"

"Umm . . . what?" Bryan stuttered. Wasn't that perfect and not at all obvious?

"Come on, Bryan. You've been crazy about Sa.s.sy since before you graduated high school. It sounds like you've spent a s.h.i.+tload of time together these past few months. I might be a little slow about picking up on this kind of thing, but I'm not blind."

"It's hasn't been like that. I mean. It wasn't until-" He stopped as a grin spread over Trey's face. "You knew?" he asked.

"Of course I knew."

Bryan shook his head. "I've been crazy about her for such a long time. Somehow I thought you'd have a problem with it."

"A problem with my best friend being with my little sister? I might not have understood the attraction on your part when we were younger, but I can't think of anyone I'd want for her more. You'd sacrifice anything for her."

"I . . . I love her," Bryan whispered, surprised he'd said the words out loud.

Trey nodded, as if that was understood. "I know you do. So what are you going to do about it?"

Still reeling, Bryan leaned back against the hard backrest and sighed. "Once she wakes up, I was planning to leave."

Trey raised an eyebrow. "Where the h.e.l.l are you going this time? You're too old to run away and join the circus."

Bryan flashed a sad smile. "As much as I've tried to help her the past few months, she's almost been killed multiple times because of me. I'm no good for her, and I'm d.a.m.n sure not relations.h.i.+p material."

"Excuse me while I call bulls.h.i.+t."

"Were you not listening earlier to all the c.r.a.p that's happened while she's been with me?"

"I was listening," insisted Trey. "Were you?" He reached for his cane and stood. "You're going to have to figure this out for yourself, friend. I'm too tired to argue with you."

Bryan looked up at him a moment before standing, too. Trey moved slowly toward the door.

"Your buddy Nightshade's taking care of things. I think I'm going to be talking to a lot of different folks over the next couple of days, a debriefing of sorts. He said we'd normally go to Was.h.i.+ngton for this, but he's going to do it in Atlanta. So I can be closer to Sa.s.sy." Trey stopped at the door. "One more question. Do you think Elizabeth is alive?"

With the burning query reflected in his eyes, Trey studied Bryan. He deserved the truth, even if it hurt like h.e.l.l. Bryan hadn't even told Sa.s.sy what he really believed. For so long, finding Elizabeth alive had been her only means of getting help for her brother. Because that was no longer a factor, Bryan had to tell the truth about what he really thought.

He took an audible breath and met Trey's gaze. "No, I don't think she survived. The conditions she would have been subjected to in both Mexico and in Africa, if she got that far, were extraordinarily harsh. I don't believe Elizabeth, or anyone, could have survived, given all the other factors at play."

Trey glanced down at the linoleum floor a moment before nodding and taking a deep breath. "Thank you for being honest. As one who lived with it for months, I've got to say-false hope is an awful thing." He looked up with a sad smile. "I'll see you soon."

Bryan opened the door. Marissa and Nightshade were waiting in the hallway.

Bryan nodded at them. "I can't thank you enough for this." He patted Trey on the back and shook his hand again. "I'll talk to you tomorrow?"

"Sounds good." Trey smiled again, but he looked completely exhausted.

Nightshade took one look at Trey and hustled him off to the elevator. Risa stayed a moment and tried to talk Bryan into going back to the hotel to get some real rest, but he refused.

"I'll see you in the morning," he told her. He watched her get on the elevator before closing the hospital room door.

Sighing, he climbed into the medieval torture rack that was disguised as an easy chair. He'd just gotten his feet at a good angle without having his head tipping over backward when he glanced up to see Sa.s.sy awake and blinking at him.

Chapter Twenty-nine.

"I JUST HAD the most amazing dream that Trey was here. It was a dream, right?"

"Nope. Not a dream. He's home. He's here. And you're awake." Bryan grinned as he scrambled from the chair and moved toward the bed.

Trey was downstairs and probably halfway across the parking lot by now. No way was Bryan walking out of this room to go get him. She might be asleep again before they made it back.

Sa.s.sy's eyes rounded, along with her mouth. "He's free?" Bryan was a foot from the bed when her face crumpled, and she burst into tears.

Oh Jesus. He never knew what to do when she cried.

"He's okay?" she asked, with tears streaming down her cheeks.

Should he go after Trey in the parking lot? Making a snap decision, he sat on the edge of the bed and gently leaned over to hold her.

"Yes. He's . . . he's going to be okay. I can try to catch him downstairs if you want. He was just really tired. That's why he didn't stay."

Her tears were soaking through the thin scrub s.h.i.+rt he'd been loaned. She shook her head. "No. Don't do that. I-" She hiccupped through the tears. "He must be exhausted." She slipped her arms around his neck and inadvertently pulled on his shoulder with the st.i.tches. He winced.

She let go, tilting her head up to look at him. "You're hurt."

"So are you. You got shot." His throat tightened as he said the words. He kissed her forehead and leaned back to study her face. He should call the nurse. They'd want to know she was awake. "Are you hurting? Do you need any pain medication?" he asked.

She shook her head. "It'll make me too sleepy. And more emotional. I feel like Rip Van Winkle as it is. What time is it?"

"About six thirty PM."

Her eyes widened. "What day is it?"

"New Year's Eve."

Her dimples appeared. "Wow. I've been out a while, haven't I?"

Careful not to jar her hip, he nodded and reached for her again, so very grateful she was awake and talking. He needed to be touching her.

She was okay. Before he'd seen Trey, his plan had been to leave after confirming this. But how could he bring himself to do that now? He had no idea how to proceed. On the bright side, her tears were subsiding.

"So who'd have thought we'd be spending New Year's Eve together?" She c.o.c.ked an eyebrow, but the saucy inflection in her voice sounded different. He a.s.sumed that was a side effect of the medication in her system.

"Sa.s.sy, I-" He leaned closer. Happy to be exactly where he was, even if he didn't know what in h.e.l.l he was doing. He needed to leave soon, but he wasn't ready yet.

"What are you going to do now?" she interrupted.

He smiled at the question mirroring his own thoughts. "I don't know. I was going to Mexico to try and help Trey, but since that's no longer necessary . . . I guess I'll get back to Dallas and start helping put things back together at AEGIS. There's a lot to sort out after everything with Johnson's allegations."

He saw the vulnerability in her eyes as she deflated in his arms.

"What about me?" she whispered.

"What?" But he knew exactly what she meant.

She inhaled, clearly coming to a decision. "What are you going to do about me? About wanting me?" She gave a nervous laugh as she glanced at the IV pole beside the bed. "What is in that bag? My G.o.d, I've never said anything like that to a man in my life." She shook her head, refocusing her gaze on him. "But h.e.l.l. What about us?"

He let her go and straightened up, barely staying on the mattress. "Sa.s.sy, I'm no good for you. I don't open up in relations.h.i.+ps anymore. That vulnerability hurts too much. Yes, I want you." He swallowed hard against the admission that scared him spitless. "I love you. But I d.a.m.n near got you killed. More than once. I can't keep you safe. And I can't give you what you need long-term."

I can't even stop cussing around you.

She took his hand but didn't answer until he was looking her in the eye. "I don't need you to keep me safe. I just need you to love me. To trust me. And I don't want to be rescued. I simply want to be with you. I know I'm not easy. I never have been. But I want to build a life with you. To know you. To be known by you. Isn't that rescue enough, vulnerable enough, for the both of us?"

"But-" He stopped. What was he doing? He wanted this. He wanted her so much. He'd been wanting her for so d.a.m.n long. And he'd never thought it would be possible.

Could he do it? Was exposing his heart again worth the risk?

"Yes." He blew out the breath he'd been holding. I love this woman. That wasn't nearly as frightening to think about as it had been just moments ago.

She tilted her head against the pillow and arched an eyebrow. "Yes what, Hollywood?" That sensual lilting tone returned as she dragged out the syllables in his name, but the look in her eyes was a sincere promise.