I'll Be There

by Deborah Grace Staley

  What was wrong with her? She needed a doctor, but the snow had been falling steadily all day with heavy accumulation. Her safety notwithstanding, he wasn’t sure he could get her out of here even with a four-wheel drive vehicle.

  Think, he said to himself. In the military, he’d received basic training in first aid, but just enough to deal with common medical emergencies.

  He had to get the fever down. He went back to the bathroom to dig through the contents of the first aid kit. He got a glass of water and poured in a packet of powdered aspirin.

  Back at her side, he slid a hand behind her neck and said, “Jenny, I need you to drink this.” He supported her back and got her into a sitting position. When she slumped against him, he almost panicked.

  He gritted his teeth against the sense of helplessness pressing in on him and cupped her head in his palm. Easing her away from his shoulder, he leaned in close to her ear. “Jenny—please. You have to drink this. Can you hear me, darlin’?”

  She opened her eyes and nodded weakly.

  “Good.” He pressed the glass to her lips. “Try and swallow a sip of this.” Cord willed her to do as he asked. He let the breath he’d been holding go when she finally took a sip. “Good girl. Try to drink some more.” He tipped the glass to her lips again.

  She took a bit more and pushed the glass away, her face all screwed up. “Nasty,” she whispered.

  “Just a little more.”

  She managed to down most of the medicine before refusing the rest. It was a start.

  He should move her to the bed. Placing a cushion behind her, Cord eased her back against it and went to the bedroom to pull back the quilt and sheet he’d put on earlier. Back in the living room, he lifted Jenny into his arms, afghan still securely gripped in her hands. He carried her to the bed and settled her in it. She again curled into a ball on her side.

  “So... cold...” Jenny complained weakly. When she began to shiver despite the warmth of the room, Cord got one of his flannel shirts for her. He eased her into a sitting position and helped her into it. The shirt dwarfed her and the dark material made her look even paler.

  After tucking her in and adding an extra blanket to the bed, Cord began to pace the length of the room. She needed a doctor, but there was no way he could risk taking her anywhere.

  He was able to move from one end of the room to the other in only three long strides. He’d give the medicine time to take effect and then check her temperature again. If she wasn’t better, he’d decide then whether or not to go to Cole’s so they could call Grady about getting a doctor over here. If someone had to come and look at her, at least they’d have the cover of night to do it in; that is if anyone could move in this much snow.

  He got a chair from the kitchen and situated it close to the bed. He’d barely sat down when Jenny bolted upright in bed and looked around as if just realizing she was in a new location.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Sick. Sick.”

  He put a hand on her shoulder to keep her from getting up. “I know. Lie back—”

  She covered her mouth with her hand and turned green. “Sick.”

  Cord grabbed a trash can just in time. He held her forehead while she threw up nothing but the water she’d drunk earlier. He wiped her mouth with the washcloth. “Would you like to rinse?”

  She nodded. He supported her with an arm around her shoulders, held a glass of cool water to her lips and held the trash can up for her. He set the trash can aside and eased her back against the pillows. “Can I get you anything? I think there’s some kind of soft drink in the fridge.”

  “No... Did you give me aspirin?”

  “Yes.”

  “Ohhh... It makes me sick.”

  He should have thought of that. A lot of people couldn’t tolerate aspirin. “I’m sorry. Your fever is high. I thought it would help lower it.”

  “Acetaminophen.”

  Cord went to the medical supplies and came back with the bottle of pain killers. “Do you think you can keep in down?”

  “Maybe.”

  He handed her the pills and helped hold her up so she could swallow them. “What do you think’s wrong?”

  After several attempts at swallowing, she finally got the pills down, then collapsed against the pillows, exhausted. “I don’t know. Probably just run down, haven’t been eating or sleeping on a regular schedule; been out in the cold. I’ll be fine. Just need to rest.”

  “You should drink something so you don’t get dehydrated.”

  She nodded, but her eyes were closed.

  “If I gave you some broth, do you think you could sip it?”

  “Not now. Stomach still upset. Sleep.”

  He pulled the blankets up around her. “Are you warm enough?”

  She didn’t respond because she was immediately sound asleep. He watched her carefully. She seemed to be resting peacefully, so he went to add another log to the fire. After one last look, he took the trash can to the bathroom and cleaned it out. Back in her room, he set it next to the bed.

  Jenny still slept. He fixed himself a tray of food, took it to a comfortable chair by the fire and ate. This was not a scenario he had foreseen. Things were happening at a pace he wasn’t used to given his lifestyle. He’d hardly had a moment to gather his thoughts.

  He’d just wanted to see her safe. Now that he was alone with her, the familiar doubts pressed in making him question his ability to keep her or anyone safe. Four years ago, he’d sent an undercover team into a situation that had rapidly turned volatile. After arriving on the scene too late, he’d come away with serious injuries and nightmares from having witnessed the loss of his entire team. He should have died with them, but he’d survived to spend the rest of his life in the hell of knowing they’d paid for his mistakes.

  He settled back in his chair and propped his feet on the hearth. After the weather cleared, he’d hand her over to someone qualified to deal with this type of situation. He’d return to his peaceful, solitary existence where he wasn’t a danger to anyone. Until then, he’d have to turn into someone else. Someone he used to be—distant, cold, detached, unfeeling. He made a sound that fell short of being a laugh. Not such a stretch.

  Chapter 8

  “What do you mean you lost her?”

  “The cabin came under heavy fire, sir. The marshals assigned to the detail were lost.”

  Jay Kennedy swiped a hand down his face. “Do they have her?”

  “We don’t know.”

  “Damn it!” He stood and paced the length of his make-shift office in the room of a budget motel in Townsend, Tennessee. “Recovery report.”

  “We took in a team of back-up agents as soon as we were radioed that their location had been compromised. Several assailants were killed. Our team swept the area and found nothing.”

  “Go on.”

  “The local Tennessee Highway Patrol set up a roadblock in an effort to help us find her, but they came up with nothing.”

  “A road—A roadblock?” Jay counseled himself to patience. “Who authorized that?”

  “I did, sir.”

  “Did it occur to you, Special Agent Riggs, that there could have been snipers waiting for you to find her?”

  “We got them all.”

  “You think there aren’t more than those that shot up that cabin, that some of them hadn’t already left when you arrived at the scene?”

  “I’m sorry, sir.”

  “You’re not just sorry. You’re fired. Get out of my sight.”

  He turned his back on the incompetent agent and grabbed his cell to get Grady Wallace on the line.

  “Wallace.”

  “Grady, Jay Kennedy. We have a situation, and I need your assistance.”

  “You talking about Jenny Thompson?”

  “Yes. It would appear our agents lost her.” Just saying the words made him wince.

  “Yeah, I’m sorry I didn’t call you sooner. I’ve been short on time and manpower with this blizzard and t
he situation on Laurel Mountain. I have her.”

  “What? How?”

  “A local picked her up on the mountain and contacted me. With this weather settling in fast as it did, I thought it best to secure her location and then contact you.”

  “Tell me.”

  “I have her and the local who found her situated on a large farm outside of town. The farm is remote and private. With mobility limited by the storm, she should be safe there until we can figure out what the next move will be when the weather clears. Jay, if you don’t mind me saying so, those marshals are completely incompetent. I’m inclined keep her out of their hands.”

  “Agreed, but I don’t like the idea of her being in Angel Ridge.”

  “I know it violates WITSEC policy, but there was no other option.”

  “Right. Who’s with her?”

  “You’re not going to like it.”

  “Name. I’ll need to run a check on him.”

  “Cordell Goins.”

  Jay nearly dropped the phone. “Say again?”

  “You heard me right.”

  Dear God... Cord Goins, the best field agent he’d ever seen until he crashed and burned in a covert op gone bad. He’d been holed up alone on a mountain in East Tennessee ever since. He hadn’t made the connection between Cord and this Angel Ridge case. Why would he? Well, now, this could be seen as a stroke of luck or a hell of a bad situation, depending on which way he chose to look at it.

  “Jenny ran into Goins by chance on Laurel Mountain. He was hiking. Look, I know it’s an unusual situation, but he refused to leave her, and Jenny seemed comfortable with him.”

  “All right. Look, I’m in Townsend. I came in to deal with this situation personally, but got stuck. As soon as I can get out, I’ll come to you.”

  “Right.”

  “Grady, I’m not sure about having her out in the middle of nowhere with Goins or anyone else,” he said. “You’ll need to keep a close eye on them.”

  “Understood. Cole Craig, the owner of the farm where they are, will keep an eye out to make sure everything’s all right. I’ll see that he doesn’t go far from his farm until Jenny’s turned over to you.”

  “Right. Call me on this number if there’s any trouble. I’ll get out there as soon as I can.”

  Jay disconnected the call and tossed his phone onto the bed. He walked over the window and pulled back the curtain. Snow fell steady and hard in the glow of the parking area lights. He ran his fingertips over the bump on his nose remembering the day Cord had broken it. It had been the last time they’d spoken—the day Cord had turned in his badge.

  Cord must have dozed, but he woke instantly when he heard Jenny thrashing around, tangled in the blankets. With only the fire for light, it was difficult to see what she was doing.

  He moved to the bed and turned on the bedside lamp. Jenny had sat up in bed and was pulling his flannel shirt over her head, revealing a generous amount of skin.

  He grasped her wrists. “Whoa! What are you doing?”

  She squirmed out of his grasp. “Hot.”

  Her soaked t-shirt clearly outlined her body. Cord swallowed hard and drew his eyes up to hers. They were red-rimmed and purple stains beneath marred her pale complexion. Her hair lay damp against her forehead.

  She fell back against the pillows and began wiggling out of her sweatpants. He grasped her wrists again to prevent her from taking off anymore clothing.

  “Jenny, stop. Here, get back under the covers.”

  He pulled the blankets back up around her shoulders, but when he turned to reach for the washcloth to bathe her face, she flung the covers back and was working at removing the pants again.

  “Jenny, stop!”

  “Bossy men,” she mumbled, then she surprised him by fighting like a wildcat. He hated to do it, but he forced her back against the pillows.

  “Shh...” Thinking to check her temperature, with his head next to her ear, he pressed his cheek to hers. It felt moist and warm.

  “Please,” she pleaded. “I’m so hot.”

  Her voice sounded hoarse and like she was congested. “Here.” He lifted the glass of cold ginger ale he had poured earlier to her lips. “Drink this.”

  She wrapped her hand around his and the glass. She drank its entire contents. Cord set the glass aside and once again picked up the washcloth. She moaned, low and deep in her throat when he pressed it to her flushed cheek.

  “How does that feel?”

  “Like heaven.”

  He continued to wipe her face with the cloth. He checked the bedside clock. Three a.m. “Let’s take your temperature again and get some more medicine down you.”

  She nodded. “Tissues first. Need to blow my nose.”

  He folded the washcloth and laid it across her forehead. “Be right back.” At the door, he turned and said, “Promise you won’t start stripping again.”

  She rewarded him with a fierce scowl. She was not a pleasant patient. “No tissues if you come out of those clothes,” he warned.

  “Tyrant.”

  Cord couldn’t help chuckling as he walked down the hall to get the tissues and a box of cold medicine. When he returned to the bedroom, he was relieved to find her just as he’d left her. He pulled several tissues from the box and handed them to her. The inelegant sound of her blowing her nose resembled the sound a goose made. Cord grinned. Jenny tossed the tissues on the bed and grabbed more from the box.

  “Don’t laugh.” She blew her nose again. “I’m sick.”

  Cord tried to pull his mouth back into a straight line. “Sorry.” She called him a name that he’d never heard a lady use. “Testy.”

  “Don’t—”

  Cord held up his hands in defeat. “Okay. You win. Sorry.”

  She blew several more times and then lay back against the pillows exhausted. Cord stuck the thermometer under her tongue and eyed the used tissues littering the bed. He weighted the wisdom of using a kitchen utensil to get them into the wastebasket. As if reading his mind, she gathered the tissues and held them out. He positioned the wastebasket under her hands, and she dropped them in.

  “Men can be so helpless.”

  The thermometer beeped. Ignoring her comment, he removed it and looked at the reading. 101. “Down two degrees. Your fever’s broken.”

  She pulled her damp shirt away from her skin and said, “Ya think?”

  “Sarcasm doesn’t suit you.”

  “Really? It’s served me well until now. And by the way, I’m guessing you wouldn’t be too happy either if you were forced to wear wet clothes and lie under six hundred blankets.”

  “Take these.” He pressed two pills into her hand.

  “I need a decongestant.”

  She was impossible! He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “They’re cold pills.”

  Cord eased an arm behind her shoulders and lifted her up, then held a water glass to her lips. She popped both pills into her mouth, which gave him a moment’s concern given the fact that he thought she’d never get the pain pills down that he’d given her earlier. To his relief, she swallowed these with much more ease.

  “Feeling better?”

  “I feel like hell and I want these wet clothes off and I need to use the bathroom.”

  Cord smiled again. She must feel better. “Anything else?”

  “Yes. A bath would be lovely.”

  He pulled the covers back. Her damp t-shirt clung to her body, leaving little to the imagination. He hated himself for the feeling of awareness that coursed through him. She was ill, for heaven sake!

  He closed his eyes and lifted her into his arms. She surprised him by not protesting. Rather, she weakly rested her head against his shoulder. His heart constricted as he looked down at her. What the hell was the matter with him? He wasn’t the kind of man who went all soft over women, even if they were gorgeous and vulnerable. In his former line of work, he’d seen his share. So why did Jenny have this effect on him?

  It only took a few steps
to reach the bathroom. “You can’t take a bath.”

  “Please. I’m so sticky.”

  He lowered her feet to the tile floor, but kept an arm firmly about her waist. “You’re too weak. So, unless you want me to get in there with you to make sure you don’t drown...”

  Her gaze traveled leisurely from his face to his toes and back. “Interesting suggestion.”

  Ignoring that, he threw the washcloth into the sink. “Can you stand alone?”

  “Maybe.”

  She didn’t seem too confident. “Just take it slow.” He guided her over to the toilet and lifted the lid. He untied the drawstring on her sweatpants and let them fall, revealing brief blush-colored lace panties. Cord clenched his jaw and looked away.

  “Hang onto the counter so you don’t fall when you sit.” He turned his back to give her some privacy, but didn’t leave the room.

  “Um, would you wait outside if I promise to stay out of the shower?”

  He looked over his shoulder, his traitorous eyes going straight to her long bare legs. He turned and went out, shutting the door behind him.

  When he heard the flush, he turned and knocked on the door. “Can I come in?”

  “Yes, please.”

  As soon as he opened the door, he saw her standing there leaning against the vanity. She swayed and grasped the edge of the counter with both hands. He was by her side in an instant, wrapping his arm around her waist. She grabbed his shirt and leaned heavily against him.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Give me a minute.”

  He held her securely in his arms, her face pressed to his chest. After a moment, he asked, “Do you feel up to changing?”

  “Can I sit?”

  He lifted her and carried her back to bed.

  “I want to change. It’s just that I feel so weak.”

  “It’s all right.” But she shivered, and he knew he had to get her out of that wet shirt and into something dry and warm.