On impulse, Rowan gave the man a bear hug. "Marry her. Make each other happy. Don’t let anyone or anything stand in your way."
Not like I did. She wagged a finger at him and smiled. "In fact, I expect you to make an honest woman of her."
He tossed back a laugh. "You have my—"
A thunderous boom drowned out the rest of his words. The house went dark.
"And when do I get to make an honest woman of you?" Phillip whispered against her ear. Strong hands slipped around her waist. "Let’s watch the storm from your room. Zach left us a little present…a box of little presents."
Rowan glanced around to see if Mike and Jess had overheard, but the storm had already driven them inside. She knew that the two would be staying downstairs in Ian’s room and the spare bedroom. Blessed privacy for her and Phillip.
"Are you asking for a commitment from me, Phillip?"
He dusted his fingers along her neck. "I’m giving you one from me."
"Phillip, don’t…"
Her protest was swallowed by his kiss. With lips still sealed, he scooped her into his arms and carried her upstairs.
So much for discretion.
Rowan didn’t care. Phillip could haul her to hell and back right now, as long as it meant being with him. Mike and Jess would have to be trusted to keep their mouths shut.
Phillip kicked the bedroom door shut the instant they crossed the threshold. He broke off their kiss long enough to place her in the center of her bed and kick off his shoes, then stretched out beside her and found her mouth once more.
With shaking hands, Rowan caught the edges of his shirt and tugged it up. He stripped the garment over his head, then did the same to hers. Her bra was quickly added to the pile, exposing her aching breasts to his questing fingers. A flash of lightning highlighted the passion in his eyes, turning them to liquid silver. Still shaking, Rowan furrowed her fingers through his short hair and pulled his head to her breast, gasping when he suckled her nipple deep into his mouth.
A flick of his wrist released the snap on her shorts. Phillip’s hand swooped inside, cupping her buttocks before sliding the material down and off her legs. He forced himself to be patient, to take his time, but each insistent press of her body against his drove away his good intentions. Dancing his hand back up her legs, he silently coaxed her to open for him.
Rowan bit back a cry as his fingers stroked against her heat. His thumb traced those secret places only he knew how to bring to life, igniting a fire only he could quench. Time was endless, frozen as he tantalized her with his long fingers. She rode the waves of pleasure, her low cries punctuated by the flashing of the desert storm.
She tensed as the pleasure engulfed her, quivered in his arms as it overcame her, then held him close in that final fulfillment as it subsided.
With lazy satisfaction, she beckoned him close, stripped his shorts away, and reached out to cup him in her hands. Rowan felt him pulse with the force of his pleasure as she rhythmically stroked and caressed. Phillip moaned softly, head tilted back, eyes half closed with ecstasy. Flicking her tongue over her lips, she bent and gently took him into her mouth. She felt the shock travel through his body with the force of the electricity flashing outside the windows.
"My God, Rowan," he gasped.
She continued with determination, using hot tongue and hands to bring him to the very edge of control.
He pushed away, standing before her like some ancient god backlit by creation’s fires. His body shone with heat and his stomach muscles heaved with the force of his desire. He prepared himself for her. She reached for him, pulling him close when he covered her body with his own.
Phillip’s breath came in ragged gasps when she wrapped her legs around his. He fought for control and took precious seconds trying to steel himself. But with each insistent nibble against his ear, with each urgent wiggle of her hips against his, that resolve diminished. With a low growl, he took her.
Rowan fell back, a gasp strangled in her throat. She had forgotten how deliciously overwhelming he could be. He paused to let her get accustomed to him, a tender act she knew was agony for him.
"Oh, love, don’t stop now," she said in a rush of breath.
He pulled back slowly then pressed forward, deeper, harder. It was too much. Rowan dug her heels into his buttocks.
Phillip smothered a groan into her neck. How could he have possibly thought he could hold back where she was concerned? He grabbed her bottom in one hand, pulled her closer, and gave her the full measure of his need.
Together they moved, lost in the wonder of each other, two lovers who never should have been apart. The celestial energies were a parallel to the heat that raged within their bodies. And when they reached that searing moment as one, it seemed right that the thunder masked their cries.
* * *
Phillip fumbled for the bedside phone. It seemed they had just drifted off to sleep. A glance at the clock showed they had—it was eleven-thirty.
Rowan uncurled herself from him when he answered.
"Is this the McKinley residence?" a man asked.
"Who wants to know?" Phillip barked.
There was a hesitation. "California Highway Patrol."
Adrenaline raced through Phillip’s heart. There was nothing he could do to keep the alarm from his voice—he didn’t try. "What’s wrong? What’s happened?"
Rowan pushed herself to one elbow and swung toward him. He didn’t want to look at her face. Didn’t want to see the panic there that mirrored his. He sat up and stared ahead.
"There’s been an accident," the officer said. "A car driven by Captain Zachary Taylor was run off the road east of Joshua Tree."
Phillip grabbed his clothes. "Joshua Tree? Why did it take so long to call us?"
Rowan jumped to her knees. "What? What is it?"
He waved her down.
"The storm kept us from reaching him. The whole road was flooded. The vehicle rolled. Fortunately, they missed the wash, but—"
"Are they hurt? Where are they?" Was he shouting? It seemed so.
From the corner of his eye, he watched Rowan leap from bed and scramble for her clothes.
"All three were unconscious when we reached them, but still alive. They were taken to the Naval Hospital on the base. That’s where I am now."
"What’s their condition?"
"I can’t say. How soon can you get here?"
"Fifteen minutes. We’re on our way." Phillip slammed the receiver down, and shrugged into his pants.
"What happened? Ian…Mom—"
"In the hospital on base." Phillip wrenched open the bedroom door and shouted downstairs for Mike and Jess.
Rowan yanked him around, panic made her voice shrill. "What happened?"
"They were run off the road." He didn’t need light to know she was terrified. It scared the hell out of him, too.
He broke the news to the other two men while he and Rowan raced downstairs. Only afterward did he realize how abruptly he presented the information considering Jess’ intimate involvement with Emma.
But there was no taking it back. He’d make up for it later…if any of them had a later.
Rowan sat statue-like on the drive to the hospital. She would not give in to hysterics. Nothing could be accomplished by it. Strength was needed—for Ian, her mother, Phillip…even Jess. She had to hang in there. Yet it took every ounce of willpower to adhere to that decree, especially when they walked into the hospital fifteen minutes later.
The mud-splattered highway patrolman stopped in mid-pace when they rushed in. His partner stood nearby, head bent in deep conversation with the Navy doctor.
Noticing their arrival, the doctor cut him off. "You’re the family?"
"Yes," they answered in unison.
"How is Ian? Where is our son?" Phillip’s tone was strained, but at least it came out with some semblance of calm. If Rowan had been the one doing the talking, she would have shrieked.
"In intensive care," the doctor replied
.
Rowan bit her knuckle to keep from sobbing aloud. Phillip didn’t do as well. She watched him blanch, saw that desperate look of panic, and wrapped her arms firmly around his waist. He hugged her like a life-line, his arms shaking.
"We still haven’t been able to piece together exactly what happened, but he took quite a whack on the head," the doctor told them. "He’s been out cold since they were found."
"You mean he’s in a coma?" Phillip choked out.
The doctor shook his head. "No. He’s got one heck of a concussion and is unconscious. The next twenty-four hours are going to be critical."
With a choking gasp, Jess pushed forward. "Emma? How’s my Emma?" His deep voice was painfully tight, fearing the worst.
"Resting comfortably and awake. She’s got a broken arm, scrapes, and plenty of bruises, but otherwise, she’s going to be fine. I’d like her to stay overnight…just in case. You can go see her." He provided directions to Emma’s room.
Jess rushed off.
"And Zach?" Mike asked.
For the first time the doctor refused to meet anyone’s eyes. "As I was telling the patrolman, we pulled a nine millimeter bullet out of his shoulder."
Rowan gasped. "He’s been shot?"
The doctor nodded. "He’s lost a lot of blood, and needed a transfusion. His health and age are in his favor, but I can’t give you a prognosis yet. We’re trying to notify his nearest relatives right now, but staff aren’t having any luck."
"His parents are taking a trip across country, hitting all the National parks," Phillip choked out. "He has four brothers. All in the Phoenix area. Zach keeps all their numbers in his wallet."
The doctor looked grim. "I don’t know what his chances are at the moment. His blood pressure is low, he has a severe concussion, and his leg was badly fractured in two places. As I said before, if he weren’t in such good health, he’d be dead by now."
Phillip felt ill. "When can we see them? Ian? Zach?"
"You can’t," came the stark reply. "Not any time soon."
Rowan’s stomach knotted and huddled closer to Phillip for support.
"Both your son and Captain Taylor need to remain under close watch in our intensive care unit. We will let you know as soon as your son regains consciousness, and if…when that happens, you can have a brief visit. As for Captain Taylor, he is currently under restriction and, unless you’re family, not allowed visitors."
"Dear God." Phillip clutched Rowan tightly and closed his eyes.
The doctor’s pager beeped, and he unclipped it with a motion born of years of practice then checked the readout.
"I’m sorry I can’t tell you more at the moment, but as soon as there is any news about your son or Captain Taylor, I’ll let you know."
A Navy corpsman in white uniform handed the doctor a clipboard, whispered another patient’s name, and returned to his corner desk station.
The doctor, harried and tired, murmured, "Excuse me. I’m needed in the emergency room," and left Phillip and Rowan to make their way into the hospital waiting room.
Hours passed. Hellish minutes ticking by with agonizing slowness. They sat, huddled together in the waiting area. A television bolted high on one wall blared CNN in a continuous thirty-minute cycle. Other families came and went. Each new arrival brought Rowan’s head up, hoping for some news about her son.
Jess finally returned with news that Emma was resting and doing well.
"She’s allowed visitors now, Rowan. I think you should go and sit with her."
Rowan somehow found her way to her mother’s hospital room. She looked so small, lying with eyes closed. Her skin was barely a shade darker than the stark white of the sheets, blue veins showed clearly at her temples and throat. Both eyes were darkened with bruises, and her arm lay in a rigid cast suspended across her chest.
Rowan held her mother’s un-bandaged hand, caressing the limp fingers gently. She could feel her cheeks streaming with tears.
"I’m sorry, Mom," she whispered. Then, louder, "This is all my fault."
"Bullshit," Jess’ gravelly voice cracked behind her. "That’s not how it works, and you know it."
He stalked to her side, took her arms, and drew her to her feet to face him.
"Understand this, Rowan," his blue eyes shone with unshed moisture, "Emma loves you and Ian more than anything in this world. She understands what’s at stake here. The last thing in the world she would want would be for you to start playing martyr."
Rowan shook her head violently. "But Jess, I started all of this."
Jess squeezed her shoulders with gentle force. "And you’re going to help finish this, honey, but you need to stay strong, stay focused, and remember that you are not at fault. Collins is, and we are going to prove that."
"Oh for heaven’s sake, can’t a girl get some sleep around here without you two getting all noble on me?" Her mother’s voice was weak and scratchy, but steady.
"Mom." Rowan turned back and crouched at her mother’s side.
"Jess told me about Ian and Zach," she said with a sad glance to her lover. "I’m doing fine, darling. I just need some rest." She reached out and touched Rowan’s hand. "Go to Phillip, honey. He needs you now. Jess will stay with me."
Rowan sniffed and rubbed at the moisture upon her cheeks.
"I’ll let you know as soon as I hear something about Ian, Mom. I love you."
She turned to leave, then paused and gave Jess a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thank you," she whispered, then went back to Phillip and their vigil.
Rowan returned to the waiting room and rejoined Phillip in his pacing. Time passed with agonizing slowness.
Two patrolmen entered the room and approached.
"Excuse me, Captain Stuart? Staff Sergeant McKinley? We need to ask you a few questions."
Phillip interrupted. "We’ve already given statements to the officer who called us from the hospital."
"Yes sir," agreed the first officer, "but we have some questions about the passengers of the other car, the one that rammed your friend’s vehicle. You did know, didn’t you, that one of the two was involved in the accident as well, and brought in for treatment?"
Rowan’s eyebrows inched together. "What other man?"
"Witnesses say two grizzled looking men in a beat up truck plowed right into Captain Taylor’s car. The two perpetrators lost control of their vehicle afterward and skidded off the road. One got away. The other one was hurt too badly to escape. We had to bring him here because the flash-flood still blocked the road to the hospital in Joshua Tree. At last check, he was still out cold. Ribs are smashed. One leg is badly broken," the other policeman replied.
Ian’s doctor exited a nearby elevator and walked toward them, beckoning.
"Do you have any idea why this happened?" the first officer asked.
Phillip and Rowan stood.
"Unfortunately, yes." Phillip linked his arm through Rowan’s. "But we need to see our son first."
Under the protective cover of his embrace, Phillip led Rowan down the corridor to the room where Ian was being monitored. Knowing he was hurt and in intensive care still didn’t prepare her for the sight of him in that huge bed.
He was a healthy boy, tall for his age, yet now dwarfed by the machinery, tubes, and wires attached to his body. A bump the size of a goose egg glowed over his left eye, an ugly purple beneath his reddish-blond hair. There were cuts along his arms and cheeks.
As if sensing her thoughts, Phillip said, "Glass from the roll-over."
"He looks so…little, Phillip. So vulnerable. I wish I could hold him."
He pulled the single chair in the room to the bedside. "Sit down, honey. Talk to him. Maybe he’ll hear us."
She longed to comb her fingers through Ian’s hair, cuddle him on her lap. She settled for holding the one hand not hooked up to an IV.
Phillip did most of the talking. Any words that came to her mind lodged in her throat while she forced the tremors from her voice.
"We love you.
"
"You’re going to be fine."
"Rest and get better."
"Hang in there."
Upbeat and positive, nothing to let him know how serious his condition was. Rowan kept praying Ian would open his eyes and give them his sweet smile. But he lay there, his small hand limp in hers.
This is a nightmare. It has to be, Phillip told himself. Life would not be so cruel to take his son away when he’d only just learned of his existence. It was all he could do to keep his facade of calm in place.
He wanted to scream at the injustice, to collapse on the bed and cry. Since the initial call, it was all he could do to keep tears from flooding his eyes. Rowan…he had to stay strong for Rowan.
"Phillip?"
The sound of Mike’s voice at the door brought his head around. "Yes?"
"Zach’s awake. He’s asking for you."
Rowan gasped.
"I should let you know, the patrolmen are on their way to talk to him. The doctor is not happy about it, but they insisted. I don’t know how much they’re going to get out of him in his condition."
Phillip curled his fingers over Rowan’s shoulder. "I’ll be back in a little while. Will you be okay?"
She gave him a quick nod, then covered his hand with hers. "I love you," she whispered.
"I love you, too." He said it in full voice, not caring who heard or knew. "Ian’s going to be fine, and we’re going to be a family."
Rowan’s stomach roiled. If only it were as easy as it sounded.
* * *
Phillip had seen Zach after dusk-till-dawn parties and all-night stretches of duty. Still he had looked better than he did now. Normally robust and in good humor, now Zach was deathly white and could barely summon the energy to move. Tubes entered his nose and arms, pulsing with fluids and oxygen. Phillip’s heart twisted at the thought of losing his best friend.
"How is he?" Phillip asked the attending doctor in a voice meant only for his ears.
"Starting to become feverish and he’s weak from the loss of blood. But he’s got enough morphine in him to keep the pain away. Of course, he’s also not going to be as coherent as you’d like. It would be best if you got this interview over with quickly. He is still in critical condition. If he didn’t seem so distressed with the need to talk with you, I would have sedated him immediately."
Always Faithful Page 19
