by Debra Webb
He was afraid. Perhaps only a little, but the fear had been there all the same.
Elizabeth steeled herself against the instant regret she experienced at having been so indifferent to his feelings. She doubted he would have wasted the emotion on her, but there it was.
Banishing all other thought she took a deep breath and considered his face. Not Joe Hennessey’s face, but the face of her patient. If she allowed herself to think of the patient as an individual just now then she would be more prone to mistakes related to human emotion. This had to be about the work…had to be about planes and angles, sections of flesh and plotting of modifications.
For this procedure she needed no mold, not even a picture. She knew by heart the face she needed to create. The face of the first man she’d ever loved. The only man actually. She’d been far too busy with her education and then her career for a real social life.
“Scalpel,” she said as she held out her hand.
With the first incision Elizabeth lost herself in the procedure. No more thoughts of anything past, present or future. Only the work. Only the goal of creating a certain look…a face that was as familiar to her as her own.
ELIZABETH STRIPPED OFF her gloves, quickly scrubbed her hands and then shed the rest of the surgical attire. She cleaned her glasses and shoved them back onto her face.
Exhaustion weighed on her but she ignored it. When she’d donned a fresh, sterile outfit she went in search of coffee. Breakfast had been a while ago and she needed a caffeine jolt.
A cleanup team had already arrived to scrub and sterilize the O.R. Not a trace of the patient would be left behind. It was a CIA thing. Elizabeth knew for a certainty that the clinic would have its own personnel for that very procedure that would be repeated before business hours began on Monday, but the CIA took no chances. Nothing, not a single strand of DNA, that could connect Joe Hennessey to this clinic would be left behind.
For now he was in the recovery room with the nurse and one of the assisting physicians.
Elizabeth sat down in the lounge with a steaming cup of coffee. Thankfully Agent Dawson had a knack with coffee. A box of pastries sat next to the coffeepot. She forced herself to eat a glazed donut when she wasn’t particularly hungry, just tired.
Dawson had explained that as soon as Elizabeth considered Hennessey able to move they would relocate via a borrowed ambulance to a safe house. She would oversee his recovery for the next three weeks, ensuring that nothing went wrong. Meanwhile some of the agents whose faces she’d already changed were in hiding, unable to move forward into whatever missions they had been assigned until it was safe for them to return to duty. Some, however, were already deep into missions. Their safety could not be assured without risking the mission entirely.
Her cruise had been cancelled and an additional week of leave had been approved. Director Calder had assured her that the Agency would reimburse her loss which was most of the cost of the cruise. No surprise there. Canceling this close to sail date came with certain drawbacks.
When Elizabeth felt the sugar and caffeine kicking in she pushed up from the table and headed to recovery to check on her patient.
In the corridor Agent Dawson waited for her. “You holding up all right, Dr. Cameron?”
She suppressed the biting retort that came instantly to mind. Dawson didn’t deserve the brunt of her irritation. The problem actually lay with her. She’d fallen in love with the wrong man. Had assumed the fairy tale of marriage and family would be hers someday. Two mistakes that were all her own. This particular favor for the CIA had simply driven that point home all over again.
“I’m fine, Agent Dawson.”
He nodded. “Agent Hennessey can be a bit brash,” he said, his gaze not meeting hers. “But he’s the best we have, ma’am. He won’t let our people down. He’ll get the job done or die trying.”
Elizabeth blinked. It was, incredibly, the first time she’d considered that Hennessey might actually lose his life while carrying out this assignment. Clearly, she should have. The business of field operations was hazardous to say the least. David had explained that to her when he’d opted to go back into the field after their relationship had turned personal. She’d tried to talk him out of the change, but he’d been determined and she’d been in love.
End of story.
“I’m glad we can count on him,” she said to Dawson, somehow mustering up a smile.
“The transportation for moving to the safe house is ready whenever you are, Doctor Cameron.”
She nodded and continued on toward recovery. This was the first time she and Dawson had suffered any tension. The meetings with him were generally brief and superficial. This intensity was uncomfortable. Just something else to dislike about this situation.
As she pushed through the double doors the nurse looked up and smiled. “His vitals are stable, Doctor.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Excellent.”
She moved to the table and surveyed the sleeping patient and the various readouts providing continual information as to his status.
Heart rate was strong and steady. Respiration deep and regular.
The bandages hiding his incisions wouldn’t be coming off for a few days. Even then the redness and swelling would still be prominent. After three weeks the worst would have passed. His age and excellent state of good health helped in the healing.
With some patients, especially older ones, some minor swelling and redness persisted for weeks, even months after extensive surgery. But there was no reason to believe that would be the case with this patient. The work Elizabeth had done was more about rearranging and sculpting, no deep tissue restructuring or skeletal changes. Minor alterations had been made to his nose and chin using plastic implants. Those would later be removed when she returned his face to its natural look. There would be minor scarring that she’d carefully hidden in hollows and angles. Fortunately for him his skin type and coloring generally scarred very little.
Later as Elizabeth sat alone in recovery, her patient started to rouse. The nurse and assisting physician had, at her urging, retired to the lounge. Both had looked haggard and ready for a break. She’d seen no reason, considering the continued stability of the patient’s vitals, for all of them to stay with him.
Now she wished she wasn’t alone. Her trepidation was unwarranted, she knew, but some part of her worried that she might see more of that vulnerability and she did not want to feel sympathy for this man. Now or ever.
He licked his lips. Made a sound in his throat. The intubation tube left patients with a dry throat. His right hand moved ever so slightly then jerked as some part of him recognized that he was restrained.
His body grew rigid then restless.
Stepping closer Elizabeth lay her hand on his arm and spoke quietly to him. “Agent Hennessey, you’re waking up from anesthesia now. The surgery went well. There is no reason to be apprehensive.”
His lids struggled to open as he continued to thrash just a little against his restraints.
“Agent Hennessey, can you hear me?”
He moistened his lips again and tried to speak.
Instinctively Elizabeth’s hand moved down to his. “You can open your eyes, Agent Hennessey, you’re doing fine.”
His fingers curled around hers and her breath caught.
Blue eyes stared up at her then, the pupils dilated with the remnants of the drugs his body worked hard to metabolize and flush away.
“Everything is fine, Agent Hennessey.”
“I guess I survived the knife, Doc,” he said, his voice rusty.
An unexpected smile tilted her lips. “You did, indeed. We’ll be moving to the safe house shortly.”
“Any chance I could have a drink?” he asked with another swipe of his tongue over his lips.
“Certainly.” It wasn’t until then that Elizabeth noticed that his fingers were still closed tightly around hers. She wiggled free and poured some cool water into a cup. When she’d inserted a bendable straw she held t
he tip to his lips so that he could drink. “Not too much,” she warned, but, of course, like all other patients he didn’t listen. She had to take the straw away before he’d stopped.
She wiped his lips with a damp cloth. “For the first few days we’ll keep the pain meds flowing for your comfort,” she said, all too aware of the silence.
He mumbled something that might have been whatever you think, Doc.
A few hours later, most of which Agent Hennessey had slept through, Elizabeth supervised his movement to the waiting ambulance. She had learned that her determination of when the patient was ready to be moved had less to do with their departure than the arrival of darkness. Made sense when she thought about it. Night provided good cover.
“I’ll be riding in the front with the driver,” Dawson explained. “The nurse will accompany you to the safe house for the night. Tomorrow his care will be solely in your hands as long as you feel additional help is no longer required.”
Elizabeth felt confident that additional medical support wouldn’t be necessary, but she couldn’t say that she looked forward to spending time alone with Hennessey. What she had done to alter his face was only the beginning of what Director Calder expected of her.
She settled onto the gurney opposite Agent Hennessey and considered the rest of this assignment. It was her job to ensure that this man could walk, talk and display mannerisms matching those of David Maddox.
Elizabeth knew nothing of David’s work, but she did know the things he talked about when off duty…when in her bed.
“Feels like we’re moving.”
Elizabeth stared down at the man strapped to the other gurney. His mouth and eyes were all that was visible but his voice, the cocky tone that screamed of his arrogant attitude, made him easily recognizable.
“We’re on our way to the safe house,” she explained. He knew the plan, but the lingering effects of anesthesia and the newly introduced pain medication were playing havoc with his ability to concentrate.
“So I get to spend my first night with you, huh?”
A blush heated her cheeks. Though she doubted Agent Hennessey felt any real discomfort just now, she could not believe he had the audacity to flirt with her.
“In a manner of speaking,” she said calmly. The man could very well be feeling a bit loose-tongued. He might not mean to flirt.
He made a sound in his chest, a laugh perhaps. “I’ve been dying to get you all to myself ever since that night,” he mumbled.
Taken aback, Elizabeth reminded herself that he probably wouldn’t even remember anything he said. Ignoring the remark was likely the best course.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean to let that slip out.”
She’d suspected as much. Swiping her hands on her thighs she sat back, relaxed her shoulders against the empty shelves behind her. “That’s all right, Agent Hennessey,” she allowed, “most patients say more than they mean to when on heavy-duty painkillers.”
He licked his lips and groaned. The doctor in her went on immediate alert. “Are you feeling pain now, Agent Hennessey?” Surely not. He’d been dosed half an hour prior to their departure.
He inhaled a big breath. “No way, Doc, I’m flying over here.” He blinked a few times then turned his head slowly to look at her. “God, you’re gorgeous, did you know that?”
Elizabeth sat a little straighter, tugged at the collar of her blouse to occupy her hands. “You might want to get some more sleep, Hennessey, before you say something you’ll regret.”
“Too late, right?” He made another of those rumbling sounds that were likely an attempt at chuckling. “No big deal.” He waved a hand dismissively. “You already know how gorgeous you are.”
Maybe his hands should have been restrained. He’d been secured to ensure he didn’t roll off the gurney, but his arms had been left free.
“You should lay still, Agent—”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he interrupted. “Don’t move, don’t say anything. That’s what I do best. But at least I’d never lie to you like he did. Never…” His eyes closed reluctantly as if the drugs had belatedly kicked in and he couldn’t keep them open any longer.
Elizabeth let go a breath of relief. She checked his pulse and relaxed a little more when it appeared he’d drifted back to sleep.
Lending any credence to anything he’d said was ridiculous under the circumstances. The drugs had him confused and talking out of his head. She knew that, had seen it numerous times.
But the part about lying wouldn’t let her put his ramblings out of her mind. What did he mean by that remark?
Nothing, you fool, she scolded.
She folded her arms over her chest. Then why did it feel familiar? As if he’d said what she’d thought a dozen times over. Because she’d sensed that David had been lying to her for quite some time.
Elizabeth closed her eyes and chastised herself for going down that road. David was dead. Whatever he’d said to her, lies or not, no longer mattered. He wasn’t coming back. He was gone forever.
Dead.
She opened her eyes and stared at the bandaged face of the man lying so still less than two feet from her. Nothing he told her would matter. She’d loved David. He was gone. She wouldn’t be taking that rocky route again anytime soon.
Nothing that Agent Joe Hennessey said or did would alter her new course.
As soon as this was over she intended to revive her social life as planned. Start dating again.
It was past time.
Chapter Five
Joe studied his reflection for far longer than the bandaged mug warranted. He didn’t know what he expected to see or what it mattered. The deed was done.
Twenty-four hours had passed since he’d gone under the knife. He pretty much felt like hell. His whole head could be a puffy melon if it weren’t for the pain radiating around his face in ever tightening bands coming to a point at his nose. He’d had his nose broken once, but it hadn’t hurt like this.
He glanced at the table next to his bed. There was medication for the pain, except he preferred to put off taking it until the pain became intolerable.
So far this morning, he had avoided spending much time with the doc. He’d been aware of her coming in and out of his room all during the night to check the portable monitors that provided a continuous scorecard on his vitals. He’d felt her looking at him each time but he hadn’t opened his eyes, hadn’t wanted to talk to her. He had a bad feeling he’d already said too much.
That was part of the reason he had no intention of taking any more drugs than necessary. He vaguely recalled making a few ridiculous remarks in the ambulance on the way here.
Joe exhaled a heavy breath. He was thirty-eight years old. He’d been an undercover operative for the CIA for the past ten. He’d been tortured, subjected to all sorts of training to prepare him for said torture, and not once had he ever spilled his guts like he almost had yesterday.
“Real stupid, Hennessey.”
He dragged on his shirt and decided he couldn’t hide out in this room any longer. It was 9:00 a.m. and his need for caffeine wouldn’t be ignored any longer.
Facing the enemy had never been a problem for him. Hiding out from the doc when she was supposed to be on his side bordered on cowardice.
Joe hesitated at the door. He could admit that. It was the truth after all. Why would he lie to himself? The next three weeks were a part of the mission. He’d simply have to get past his personal feelings. Too many lives hung in the balance for him to indulge his personal interests.
His fingers wrapped around the doorknob and he twisted, drew back the door and exited the room that provided some amount of separation. All he had to do was maintain his boundaries. No slipping into intimate territory in conversation. No touching. If he followed those two simple rules he wouldn’t have a problem.
The upstairs hall stretched fifteen yards from the room he’d just exited to the staircase. Three other bedrooms and two bathrooms had been carved out of th
e space. Downstairs was more or less one large open space that served as living room, kitchen and dining room. A laundry room with rear exit, pantry and half bath were off the kitchen.
The house was located in the fringes of a small Maryland town. There was only one other house on the street and it was currently vacant and for sale. Twenty-four hour surveillance as well as a state-of-the-art security system ensured their safety. A panic room had been installed in the basement. Even if someone got past surveillance and the security system they wouldn’t breach the panic room. Though only twelve-by-twelve, the room was impenetrable and stocked for every imaginable scenario.
The smooth hardwood of the stair treads felt cold beneath Joe’s bare feet. His left hand slid along the banister as he descended to the first floor, the act taking him back a few decades to his childhood. His parents’ home had been a two-story and he and his brother had traveled down the stairs every imaginable way from sliding down the banister to jumping over it. It was a miracle either one of them had survived boyhood.
Joe stopped on the bottom step and hesitated once more before making his presence known.
Doctor Elizabeth Cameron was busy at the sink, filling the carafe to make another pot of coffee Joe presumed. A glutton for punishment he stood there and watched, unable to help himself.
She’d traded her usual businesslike attire for jeans and a casual blouse. He hadn’t seen her like this. She wore generic sweats when she worked out, her scrubs or a business suit including a conservative skirt or slacks the rest of the time. He’d begun to wonder as he watched her over the past couple of weeks if she slept in her work clothes. Her cool, reserved exterior just didn’t lend itself to the idea of silky lingerie no matter how much she owned.
And yet, when his gaze followed the sweet curves of her body clearly delineated by the form-fitting blue jeans and pale pink top he found himself ready to amend that conclusion.
At about five-four, she would fit neatly into the category of petite without question, but she was strong. He’d watched her work out. She could run like hell. More than once he’d wished she would wear shorts for her workouts rather than sweatpants, but he never got that lucky. He liked it a lot when she took off those unflattering glasses, which was extremely rare.
