by Kari Lemor
“I’m not even going to ask what that is.” Heather blinked a few times. “Can we see him?”
“He’s still in recovery, but he’ll be in ICU in about a half hour. It’s only family and no more than two people at a time. He needs rest more than anything. Get something to eat and then you can head up.”
As the doctor walked away Heather sank into one of the chairs. Jack settled beside her.
“Only family.” Tears filled her eyes again. Damn, when would these stupid things stop?
Pulling her close to his shoulder he said, “You are family. His fiancé, according to the nurse at the desk.”
Rolling her eyes, she smiled at him. If only that were true.
* * * *
Dull pain throbbed through Scott as he attempted to open his eyes. He’d been trying for some time. At least he thought it was a long time. He felt like he’d been drugged, or had a few too many shots. It had been college since he’d done any heavy drinking. Well, a few times when he’d first gotten home from Afghanistan, but not recently.
Medicinal smells set him on alert and he pushed his eyes open harder. Beeps from machines. Machines that seemed to be attached to him. An oxygen mask over his nose and mouth, IV jammed into his arm, and sticky things pulling at his chest hair. Definitely a hospital. Why was he here?
His foggy memory drifted back and it all fell into place. The mill. Being trapped in with the coffins. The explosion. Heather.
Struggling to sit up, he grunted at the pain in his abdomen. What the fuck had happened to him? Last he remembered they’d gotten out and were disarming the C-4. He hadn’t gotten to one in time. But what had happened to Heather? Shit, he needed to know.
A nurse walked in, frowning when she saw him trying to sit up.
“Mr. Holland, you need to lie back down. You could reinjure yourself. You don’t want to end up in surgery again, do you?”
He’d had surgery? Not important now. He needed to know.
“Heather.” He slipped the mask off and grabbed the woman’s arm, holding as tight as he could. Damn, he felt ridiculously weak. “What happened to Heather?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t have any information on anyone named Heather. This is the Intensive Care Unit. She might have been sent to a regular floor.”
“Has anyone been to see me? My cousin, Jack?” Jack was his emergency contact person and was listed in his wallet.
“I came on shift at three. The only person I saw was a tall, dark-haired man. Kind of intense.”
“Jack.” What about Heather? Had she gotten out of the building in time? Had she been near another bomb that had gone off? Closer than him. Close enough to—no, he couldn’t think that way. But he needed to know.
“Can I get a phone? I need to find out what happened to the woman I was with. Please.” He sounded desperate, but hell, he was desperate.
“I’ll see what I can—oh, maybe this friend can help you.”
When the nurse stepped aside, the air gushed out of his lungs. Heather stood there, her face beaming, eyes brimming with moisture. Relief, intense and strong, hit him, and he closed his eyes trying to catch his breath.
“Heather.”
“I guess you have your answer,” the nurse said as she left the room. “Try to keep him calm.”
“I’ll do my best.” Walking over to the bed, she took his hand then bent over to kiss his forehead. “You scared the hell out of me.”
“I scared…I didn’t know if you were alive or…” He trailed off, not wanting to finish that sentence.
“Alive. And so are you. It’s taken you a while to wake up though. I was worried sick.” Her lower lip trembled so he pulled her closer until she rested on the edge of the mattress.
Squeezing her hand, he shut his eyes as he felt actual tears leak out of the corner. She was alive and so was he. They’d managed to escape from an almost impossible situation.
“I had surgery?” Now he was curious. Exactly how bad off was he? He felt like crap.
Nodding her head, Heather said, “Yes. Ruptured spleen and some other internal bleeding shit. You’ve got a few broken bones and another concussion. You’re kind of a mess.”
“Sorry.”
“But you’ll be good as new soon enough.” The tears in her eyes and the anxious expression on her face made him believe otherwise.
“You’re crying,” he accused. “So you’re upset about something. Did I make you miss a hair appointment?”
An unladylike snort erupted from her mouth, but he’d gotten the distraught expression off her face. Looking at her now, her hair was kind of a mess. Limp and tangled. She was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
“How are you feeling? Did you get injured, aside from the knock on your head from Stokinger?”
“No, and I’ve eaten now, so I’m not as grouchy either.”
“Food, yeah, that would be nice.” When he took stock of his stomach and the nausea that resided, he thought he might wait.
Heather leaned down and rested her elbows on either side of him, her face so close he could almost kiss her.
“The cops were amazed at how we managed to get out. Said it would make a great book.”
“A book, huh? Are you getting into writing now?”
“No, we can hire someone to write it for us. Perhaps even get some movie rights.”
Her expression was much better now. The inane chatter had brought her back to the beauty he loved.
“Who would they get to play you?”
Her eyes lit up and roamed the room in thought. “Not sure. Someone totally hot, of course.”
“No one’s as hot as you, princess. Especially not with your infamous gymnastic moves getting that flashlight up to your hands.”
“You had the macho hero thing going on, picking up that metal and getting it to pick the lock.”
Another reason his abs hurt, he was sure. “We’re pretty badass, huh?”
“Totally badass. And Stokinger won’t be doing that again anytime soon. Drew said they picked him up in Florida.”
More tension left his body. “What happened to the building? How many bombs did we miss?”
“Only the one that got you.” Her voice cracked so she cleared her throat. “Blew out a few windows and part of the roof. I thought we could do cathedral ceilings and skylights up there anyhow.”
The laugh that escaped sent him into spasms of pain. Heather leaned closer and stroked his face, whispering, “Sorry, sorry. I promise no more jokes.”
Her expression was one of remorse and he never wanted her to feel guilty for making him laugh. “No, it’s fine. Good to know we’ve both still got a sense of humor.”
“Then you’ll really love this. My mom showed up here, mostly to give me a change of clothes and some real food. But she wanted to apologize for trying to run my social life. Since you rescued me—twice now—you’re on her good list of guys I can get naked with.”
“She what?”
“Well, that isn’t exactly how she worded it, but she did say that anyone willing to risk his life for mine was on the top of the list in her book.”
“Does she have an actual book?” From what he’d seen of Nicoletta Silva, she might.
“I’ll never tell. But I will tell you something, something I should have said much sooner.”
“I’m listening.” Why was she nervous? This wasn’t the big send-off, was it? No, she’d just made jokes about his being on her mother’s list of good little boys.
“Right before you blew up the wall, you said something to me.”
“I did.” He’d said he loved her. But would she want that kind of declaration from him?
“Did you mean it? Or was it merely heat of the moment shit?”
Shifting, he grunted at the agony of movement. Taking her hand, he pressed it to his lips.
“I meant it. Every word. Well, all three of them, anyway.”
Her smile brightened up the drab room and warmed his heart. Please let it mean she felt the same. Or at least relatively close.
“Then I have a little secret to share with you.”
“Do tell. I can hardly wait. Seriously, because I think these meds”—he pointed to the IV bags hanging beside the bed—“are putting me out again.”
Leaning closer, she nibbled on his ear, whispering, “I love you, too, Scott Holland. And I promise I always will.”
Her kiss was beautiful and gentle, but he couldn’t wait to get out of here and show her what real love could be like.
“You know you also promised I could chain you up and have my way with you.”
That smile again, the one that dug deep into his soul and brought peace, acceptance, bliss.
“You’ve got it, my hero. As soon as you think you can handle it.”
“I think the better question is, can I handle you?”
Chapter 24
“I got you a beer,” Drew said, handing Scott a long, tall bottle, then pulling it back. “Oh, wait, maybe I should check with your nurse first. Can you have alcohol yet?”
“It’s been almost a month since the surgery. I think I can handle it.” Scott grabbed the bottle before his friend could yank it back again. Taking a long swig, he surveyed the crowd. Even though Heather’s house wasn’t quite move-in ready, they’d decided to have a Labor Day weekend party here. She had a great yard, and the plumbing and electrical work had already been installed. Although the porta potty was still hanging out for use by the construction crew. Jonathan thought it was way cooler to use than the indoor bathroom.
Jack had been called on for that duty as Callie claimed, in her huge condition, she wouldn’t be able to fit inside. As she waddled outside carrying a tray alongside Heather, he had to agree. His cousin didn’t seem to mind her size, though, as indicated by his nibbling on her neck before he took the tray from her and placed it on the picnic table. Maybe he should go channel Jack and nibble on Heather’s neck.
Turning his way, she smiled and his heart beat faster. He was totally and thoroughly whipped. And he’d admit it to anyone who would listen.
“Get a room,” Keith mumbled, bumping into him from behind.
“I’m not even touching her,” Scott objected.
“You’ve been eye-fucking her for the past half hour,” Nick said, lifting his own beer to his lips. “Don’t you get enough living with her?”
“Never enough.” He meant that too. The past month with Heather at his place had been amazing. Yes, they’d had fights and intense discussions, but in the end they always made up before they went to bed. And the make-up sex was great too. He hadn’t minded that Heather had needed to take the lead with his internal injuries. Watching her gyrate and get herself off always sent him over the edge. Shit, the woman was something else.
“How’s the house coming along?” Chris asked. He and Meg had made it up for the long weekend.
“It’s getting there,” Scott replied. “After what happened with Heather’s house blowing up and the judge almost killing us, everyone’s pitched in to help. The permits all went through in record time and without a hitch.”
“Unlike the mill building project,” Heather piped in, coming to stand at his side. Lifting his free hand, he slid it around her shoulder and pulled her close.
“With that building still undergoing investigation by the police and FBI, who knows when it will be released back to us.” Gritting his teeth, he took a deep breath, trying not to think about the fact he hadn’t been able to move forward with the project.
“They promised us soon,” Heather said. “But it gave us the opportunity to use those workers to finish my house.”
“Anxious to get away from me?” he teased.
Pushing up on her toes, she kissed his cheek. “No, but I wouldn’t mind having more than one bathroom.”
“If it weren’t for Heather,” Jack explained, walking over to them, “this house wouldn’t be anywhere near finished. All she has to do is flash the guys that big smile and they trip over themselves to get the work done.”
“She’s got that effect on lover-boy here, too,” Keith drawled. “All of you are too sickly sweet for me. Nick, Drew, we should stand on the other side of the yard so we don’t catch whatever they got infected with.”
“You need to find the right woman, Keith, and it’ll be all over. You wait,” Chris said, pulling Meg to his side. “First time I met this one, she kissed the stuffing out of me, then pushed me in the pool.”
Meg’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t mean to push you in the pool. It just…kind of happened.”
“You did mean to kiss me though.” The grin on Chris’s face grew.
“To keep from getting arrested, sure.”
“I’m still waiting for some hot chick to walk up and kiss me,” Nick said. “Hasn’t happened yet.”
“You’re in the truck stop my mom works at often enough, Nick,” Meg started. “She says you could have lots of the women there kissing you if you wanted.”
Clutching his chest, Nick groaned. “I’m waiting for your mom to leave your dad and run away with me. No one else will do.”
Meg laughed. “According to her, there’s a shapely redhead you can’t keep your eyes off.”
“I think it’s time for another beer,” Nick said and marched off toward the cooler.
Keith’s eyes followed his friend. “Maybe I need a road trip to check out this redhead.”
“I’ll go with you.” Drew eyed the yard. “It’s slim pickings around here.”
Scott conceded they hadn’t invited too many single women, though Charlotte was here. But she was rolling around on the ground with Jonathan and his new puppy. Jack had bought a German shepherd he was hoping to train to protect them. His few years on the run had made him severely neurotic when it came to the safety of his family. Scott couldn’t blame him though. He’d do what he had to in order to keep Heather safe too.
Laughter and conversation floated around the yard all afternoon but Scott kept his eye on the time. There was something he wanted to do, and he wasn’t sure when would be the best time.
“Are you happy with the work on the house so far?” he asked as he and Heather stood near the fence in her back yard.
“It’s great. But I was wondering something and forgot to ask. A few days ago one of the men asked about pouring a concrete slab for a barbecue pit. I never asked for that.”
Pushing her back against the fence, he caged her in with both hands. “Yeah, I wanted to ask you about that. You know I like barbecuing and I was hoping you’d let me set one up here.”
“Because you can’t at your place?”
He shrugged. “Once you move out, it’ll be a little lonely. I was hoping I could spend more time at your place.”
Reaching in his pocket he extracted a small box and popped the lid. “Or, I could make it my place too.”
Her eyes opened wide and she chewed on her bottom lip. “You’d be okay moving into my house and not having a place that was yours?”
Lowering his head, he kissed her. “It would be ours. And if you’re there, that’s all I need.”
Heather started to nod but a commotion near the house caught their attention. Jack held onto Callie, whose expression conveyed anxiety. They rushed over as Jack began to panic.
“She’s in labor.” His typically confident cousin looked lost.
“Today is Labor Day,” Nick quipped and Keith slapped him on the side of the head.
“I’d suggest heading to the hospital,” Drew said in his usual calm manner.
Charlotte looked at him with disgust. “Brilliant deduction.”
“Jonathan…” Callie began, but Heather cut her off.
“We’ll take Jonathan and the
dog back to the house and stay with him as long as needed.”
“Just go,” Scott urged. He didn’t want a baby being delivered here.
When the expectant parents left, the others began to tidy up and drift off. Scott remembered the ring he still clutched in his hand.
“Hey, you never quite answered me.”
Heather sidled closer, Jonathan clinging to her leg. “I’m all you need, huh?”
Scott slid the ring onto her finger then bent to ruffle Jonathan’s hair. “I might need one of these too. Would you be up for that challenge?”
Scooping the boy into her arms, she leaned against Scott. “I could be convinced. I hear it takes a lot of practice to get one, though.”
He kissed her lips and rested his head against hers. “I think I’m up for it.”
Her chuckle rumbled through the air. “You usually are.”
Wild Card Undercover
Don’t miss where the Love On the Line series began!
All that glitters in Miami is not gold . . .
Lured in by a bad ex-boyfriend and the moonlight of Miami, Meg O’Hara is trapped in a nightmare situation, waiting tables for a crime boss and fearing for her life. When undercover FBI agent Christopher Shaunessy offers her a way out, she seizes it. Getting the goods on Salazar Moreno might not be easy, but she’ll do anything to be freed from her servitude and Moreno’s sexual advances, even if it means moving in with the charismatic agent.
Chris Shaunessy pretends to be Meg’s lover in order to keep her safe, but he steels his heart against further involvement. Passion has no place in the sordid world of organized crime. And yet, the closer they get to cracking the case, the stronger his feelings for the spirited waitress shine. It’s a dangerous game he’s playing, and taking Meg in his arms for real could prove a fatal misstep . . .
Chapter 1
“Does that man never have a day off?” Margaret Kathleen O’Hara grumbled, grabbing her tote bag and sarong to move surreptitiously along the chairs by the pool. If the hotel manager saw her here again she’d be toast. He’d more than toss her out. Threats to call the police had been thrown at her for months now. Although in her case, that might be a better deal.
