by Dee Davis
“I’ve got it,” Tyler said, her voice triumphant. “But it’s really thready. We need to get her out of here now. She’s bleeding out.”
“Draper?” Harrison asked, his eyes still locked on Hannah as he ripped off his jacket, using it as a makeshift bandage to apply pressure to the worst of Hannah’s wounds.
“Dead,” Avery responded. “Good fucking riddance.” He pulled off his coat, draping it over Hannah, the gesture filled with respect.
“I’m here, sweetheart,” Harrison said. “And you’re safe. Draper’s dead. You’ve just got to hang on.” He couldn’t lose her. Not like this. Not again.
“Simon,” Drake barked into the comlink. “We need an ambulance. Now. In front of Varsley.”
“Already ahead of you,” Simon replied. “They’re on their way.”
Without further discussion, Tyler, Nash, Drake, and Avery moved to the corners of the mattress. “On my count,” Avery said. “One. Two. Three.” They lifted the mattress, and Hannah moaned, but didn’t open her eyes.
Harrison moved alongside her as they carried the mattress down the corridor back into the basement. By the time they’d reached the stairs, the EMTs were there, replacing Harrison’s bandage with a pressure tourniquet and hanging a line to give her fluids. She was so pale. And her hands were so cold.
“We’re ready,” one of the EMTs said. And Harrison stepped back as they picked up the stretcher, Avery and Nash helping to carry her up the stairs. Once at the top, they shifted her to a gurney and rolled her outside to the ambulance. At the doors, Harrison hesitated, suddenly feeling unworthy. What if he’d been too late?
“Go,” Tyler said, shoving him forward. “We’ll meet you at the hospital. Go.”
He climbed into the ambulance, settling down beside her, reaching for her hand—praying for the first time since his sister had died.
It looked like an A-Tac wing, what with all the people standing or sitting in the waiting room just outside the operating theater. Besides the team members who’d rescued Hannah, Annie had flown in from Montreal to be there. Along with Alexis, Tucker, and Madeline from California. And Owen, Tyler’s husband, had arrived an hour or so ago, straight from some classified mission for Homeland Security. Lara had even called from South America. They all wanted to be there for Hannah.
And surprisingly, Harrison realized, for him.
He rose from his chair, too jumpy to sit still, pacing back and forth across the room. Hannah had been in surgery more than seven hours now, and Harrison was having trouble containing his anxiety. She’d lost a lot of blood, and the damage to her internal organs was significant. Draper’s death had been too easy.
“Any word?” Annie asked, coming in with a cardboard container full of coffee cups.
“Nothing,” Harrison said, shaking his head when she offered him a cup.
“You should eat something,” Madeline said, her swelling stomach indicating that impending motherhood had magnified her natural tendency to nurture.
“Leave him alone,” Drake cautioned. “The waiting’s hard enough without the two of you hovering.”
“I know,” Madeline acknowledged, reaching over to pat her husband’s hand. “It’s just hard when there’s nothing to do.” Her words echoed what they all were feeling.
“It’s not like we haven’t been here before,” Avery said, his face etched with worry. “It seems like lately all we do is wait for the doctors to tell us someone is going to be okay.”
Tyler and Owen exchanged a look, Tyler reaching up to touch the scar just beneath her breast. She’d almost died during an attack in Colombia. As had Madeline.
“Yes, but we’re survivors,” Alexis said, with conviction, having made it through more than her fair share of danger. Most of it with Tucker and Harrison in tow. “And Hannah is one, too.”
He smiled over at her, grateful for her words, again feeling the bond of family.
Tucker came to stand behind his wife, his hands on her shoulders. “Alexis is right. As long as we have each other, we can deal with anything.”
“Even the Consortium.” Simon’s face hardened with the thought of the people that had started this whole episode rolling. “We’re going to find them. And then we’re going to destroy them.”
“For Hannah,” Annie said. “And Jason.”
“For all of us,” Avery added. “They have no idea the sleeping tiger they’ve awakened.”
“Well, believe me, it’ll be my pleasure to show them,” Nash said, fire flashing in his eyes. “Whatever it takes, we’ll run them to ground.”
“While I support the sentiment,” Annie said, her hand on Nash’s arm, “this isn’t the time.”
“Annie’s right,” Madeline agreed. “Enough with the plans for revenge. Right now we just need to concentrate on those doctors in there bringing Hannah back to us.”
Harrison sighed, his mind playing games with him. If only he’d never been involved with the cyber killer. If only he hadn’t come to A-Tac. If only he’d taken Hannah with him when he went to check the explosion. If only he’d told her he loved her.
“She knows how much you care,” Alexis said, covering his hand with hers. “Women are built like that. I guess God knew we’d need to be able to read the things you guys can’t say.”
He nodded, words deserting him. He could see Hannah in his mind’s eye, her blue eyes challenging him as they argued about some piece of software or intel. A smile lurking at the corner of her mouth. Her hair going every which way, streaks of some color or another making her look more like a character from Harry Potter than a CIA agent.
He couldn’t imagine her not being a part of his life.
“Harrison,” Avery called, and he looked up to see a scrubs-clad doctor walking out of the double doors.
He stood up, swallowing, his throat dry, his hands clammy. Please, God, he prayed, knowing that he’d promise anything—do anything—if only she were okay.
“It was touch and go,” the doctor said as they all gathered around. “As you know, there was a lot of damage. And she’d lost a lot of blood. But we managed to repair everything.”
“So she’ll have a full recovery?” Owen asked, putting Harrison’s tumbling thoughts into words.
The doctor shook his head, his expression not giving anything away. “It’s too early to say for sure. She’s in a coma right now. And while we have every reason to believe she’ll come out of it, her system has been through a hell of a shock. And sometimes,” he said, not pulling any punches, “people just can’t come back from that.”
Harrison nodded, fists clenched as he tried to deal with his rising fear.
“The next twenty-four hours are key,” the doctor offered.
“She’s going to be okay,” Nash said, his hand on Harrison’s shoulder.
“When can I see her?” Harrison asked, his voice raspy with emotion.
“Right now, she needs rest,” the doctor said. “We’re restricting visitors to family only.”
Harrison opened his mouth, but Avery was faster. “We’re the only family she has.” The big man didn’t leave room for argument, and the doctor acquiesced.
“Fine, but we’ll need to limit it to one at a time.”
“You go,” Avery said to Harrison. “She’ll want to see you first. And don’t worry, we’ll be here when you come out.”
Harrison sucked in a fortifying breath and followed the doctor down the hall into the recovery room. She looked so goddamned small. There were bandages and tubes and machines surrounding her. All of his life he’d been the one to solve the problems. Physical, technical, whatever. He was always the go-to guy. And now he just felt helpless.
He sat in the chair by her bed, taking her hand in his, tears filling his eyes. “I love you so much, Hannah,” he whispered. “More than I could ever have believed. And I can’t imagine my life without you. So you’ve got to fight. Do you hear me? You’re the strongest woman I know. Fight for me, Hannah. Fight for us.”
Hannah sat ba
ck, basking in the warmth of the light. The breeze carried the smell of flowers, the air carrying the soft music of a garden, the hum of a bee providing melody, the bass courtesy of a cricket. Tympani from a frog.
She couldn’t remember how long she’d been here. Or even why she’d come. Just that she’d chosen this place. And that it was a sanctuary. There was no pain. There was no fear. There was only endless peace.
And yet somehow, somewhere, in the back of her mind, she had the feeling that there was something more. Something she was missing. It was a silly thought. What could be better than the endless beauty before her? This was where she belonged. Where no one could hurt her.
Or love her.
The words were jarring, and the music stopped, the light dimming. And she rose from the bench, the white walls fading as she took a step forward, remembering.
Harrison.
Harrison.
She loved him. And she was pretty damn certain he loved her, too. Hadn’t he just told her so? The thought drew her up short. The memory fading. The light strengthening again. Harrison wasn’t here. He couldn’t have told her anything.
But he had. She could hear his voice. Hear the words. He’d asked her to fight. For him. For them. She could see the door now. And as before, she made her choice. Falling out of her sanctuary as easily as she’d fallen in.
The world faded to a fuzzy gray, and she could feel the distant thrumming of pain. Hear the mechanical beeps of a hospital monitor. And she could feel Harrison’s hand wrapped around hers.
By sheer force of will, she opened her eyes. He was sleeping, his head slumped onto the edge of her bed. And she smiled, lifting her other hand to caress his cheek. His eyes flickered open, recognition dawning.
“Hannah,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “You’re here. You’re awake.”
She nodded, feeling alive, as if everything was only just beginning, here and now, with him. “And, Harrison,” she whispered, “I love you, too.”
EPILOGUE
So are you happy?” Harrison asked, offering Hannah another beer from the bucket in the sand beside them. The breeze washed over them, the sun shining down on the azure water as the waves washed onto the shore. Above them, gulls circled, their cries plaintive as they waited for some sign of supper.
They’d been in Bali for almost three weeks. And it had been a magical trip. The two of them alone together in paradise. To everyone’s delight, Hannah had come back full force, surprising even her doctors with the speed of her recovery. She credited it all to Harrison’s ministrations, but he knew that it was her spirit that had prevailed.
“I can’t remember ever feeling so contented,” she replied, squeezing fresh lime into the bottle. “I’ve got beer. I’ve got shelter.” She waved at their cabana behind them. “And I’ve got you.” She sighed, her fingers twining with his. “The only fly in the ointment is that our time’s almost up.”
“We could stay,” he suggested. “Or we can start a new adventure. I’m game for whatever you are.” He waited, not sure what she’d say. She’d been through a horrible ordeal, and though outwardly she’d recovered, he wasn’t as certain that she’d healed on the inside. The truth was that he wasn’t sure she’d ever want to go back to their old life. And he was prepared to honor that. Although he wasn’t as certain of the other team members. He knew that they were ready for her to come home. But it had to be Hannah’s call.
“I mean it,” he said, reaching over to push a strand of hair behind her ear. It had grown long over the past few months. And he kind of liked it that way, although sometimes he missed the streaks of fuchsia and purple. “We can go wherever you want. Do whatever you want.”
“Anything?” She smiled provocatively.
“Well, that’s a given,” he said, leaning over to kiss her, her lips tasting of citrus and beer. “But we can’t stay here forever.”
“Just as well.” She sighed. “I’d hate to think we’d be content growing soft.” She took a sip of beer and he watched the movement of her throat, his body tightening with seemingly insatiable need.
“So…” he prompted, “where are we off to?”
She pulled off her sunglasses and turned to him with a smile. “Home. Where else? I’m feeling the need to kick some Consortium ass.”
“Good answer,” Drake Flynn said, walking across the sand carrying a cooler. Nash, Annie, and Adam were right behind them, Adam tossing a beach ball into the air. And beyond them, Harrison could see Avery and Owen walking with Tyler and the rest of the team. “You didn’t think we were going to let you have all the fun, did you?”
Hannah just smiled, jumping up to take the ball from Adam. And Harrison sighed, relishing the moment. Hannah had been correct. He had everything he needed right here. Beer, shelter, his friends—and the woman he loved. His gaze locked on Hannah, his heart swelling with the magnitude of his feelings. Hell, it couldn’t get any better than that.
When terrorism is suspected after a helicopter crash, Simon Kincaid is the first line of defense for A-Tac. But he’s not alone—sexy Homeland Security officer Jessica Montgomery is on hand, infuriating and enticing him at every turn…
Double Danger
Available in January 2013
CHAPTER 1
New York City, Hospital for Special Surgery
So on a scale of one to ten, how would you rank the pain?” Dr. Weinman asked as he probed the deep scars running across Simon’s thigh.
“Three,” Simon said, fighting against a grimace, pain radiating up into his hip.
“So a six.” The doctor released the leg and scribbled something on his chart.
Simon opened his mouth to argue, but Weinman smiled. “Look, I’ve been patching up people like you for most of my career. Which means I’m more than aware that in your world, a three would definitely be a six for the rest of us. God’s honest truth, probably more like an eight or nine.”
“Apples to oranges,” Simon said, his smile bitter. “The rest of you wouldn’t have a leg full of shrapnel. So am I cleared for duty?” The long hike through the Afghan mountains plus the stress of the firefight had aggravated his injury, his pronounced limp causing Avery to send him to the orthopedist for a look-see.
“Yeah.” Weinman shrugged. “You’re good to go. There’s no new damage. But I’m afraid as long as you insist on engaging in the kind of work you do, there’s always going to be risk. And sooner or later, there’s going to be additional injury. So it’s not a matter of if, but when.”
“Nothing I didn’t already know,” Simon said, jumping off the table to get dressed.
“I assume you’re still working with the PT?” the doctor asked, glancing up over the top of his glasses.
“Actually, I’m not. With the new job, there just isn’t time to come all the way into the city. But Sunderland has a great gym. And I’ve memorized the moves by now. So it’s easy enough for me to work out on my own.”
“Well, I suppose that’ll have to do,” the doctor said, still scribbling in the chart. “Just be careful not to push too hard. Do you need something for the pain?”
“No, I’m good.” Simon shook his head as he shrugged into his shirt. The pain meds only dulled his brain, slowing his reflexes. And in his line of work, that wasn’t an option. Besides, he prided himself on being tough.
“There’s nothing dishonorable about managing pain,” Weinman said, correctly reading Simon’s train of thought.
“Look, I said I’m fine.” Simon blew out a breath, forcing a smile. The doc was only trying to help.
And if Simon were truly being honest, he’d have to admit that sometimes, in the middle of the night when the pain threatened to overwhelm him, the pills were his only ticket to oblivion. But he’d seen what had happened to men he’d fought with when the meds had taken control. And he wasn’t about to let himself go there. No matter how fucking much it hurt.
“It’s up to you.” Weinman shrugged, closing the chart and rising to his feet. “But if you change y
our mind, I’m only a telephone call away.”
“Good to know. But I’ll be okay.”
“All right then. We’re done.” Weinman paused, his gaze assessing. “Until next time.” Leaving the words hanging, he turned and left the room, and Simon blew out a long breath.
The bottom line was that he knew he was on borrowed time. His injuries had been severe enough to force him out of the SEALs. And sooner or later, they were probably going to mean an end to his career with A-Tac, at least in the field.
But for now, he was determined to carry on. He was a soldier. Pure and simple. And just because he could no longer be a SEAL, he didn’t have to settle for some piddly-ass desk job. A-Tac was as good as it got when it came to working counter-terrorism. And he was lucky to have found a home there.
And he sure as hell wasn’t going to fuck it up by letting his injury get in the way. Anyway, all that mattered now was that he was good to go. Which meant he could get back to Sunderland—and the hunt for the Consortium.
He walked out of the exam room, striding down the hall, ignoring the twinge of pain shooting up his leg. Compared to a year ago, this was a cakewalk. And the way he figured, another year and it would hardly be noticeable. Everyone in his line of work lived with injury. It was part of the package. It just wasn’t something most people could understand. Their idea of the fast lane was eating fried food on a Saturday night—his was perpetrating a raid on an Afghan terrorist encampment.
He waved at the receptionist as he walked through the waiting room and pushed through the doors to the clinic. Dr. Weinman’s offices were on an upper floor of the hospital, the corridor leading to the elevator lined with windows looking out over the FDR and the East River. Outside, beyond the congestion of traffic, the river was flowing out toward the harbor. A tugboat, barge in tow, was making its laborious way upstream. Above the swiftly flowing water, the skyline of Long Island City stood illuminated against the bold blue sky.
