"I just need to sleep, that's all." She blinked, reminding him of an injured baby owl he'd tried to nurse back to health. No matter how hard he'd tried, he'd never been able to coax the terrified little thing to trust him enough to take food from his hand. He'd still been young enough to cry when it died.
"Give me a name, Daniela. Someone who can help you get undressed, help get you settled—unless you'd rather I did it."
It was an order, Danni realized. The big tough Fed had decided she belonged in bed, and that's where she was going to stay. Her temper gave a token flare, but the rest of her was unable to manage more than a scowl. "Do this, do that." She huffed out air. "You sound exactly like Eddie."
His face turned to stone. "You're wrong. I'm nothing like him." Anger had crept into his voice, making it hard and crisp.
"I was just teasing. You never used to be so sensitive."
"I never used to be a lot of things." He pulled his hands from his pockets and jerked the afghan over her. "A name, Daniela."
She forced herself to concentrate long enough to sift through a pathetically short list of friends to call in an emergency. "Try Liza Savage," she blurted when a name swam to the surface. "Luke has her number. But honestly, it's not necessary."
Rafe's gaze seemed to burn into her, reminding her of the boy whose hands had trembled when he'd touched her in the moonlight. Her breath suddenly jammed in her throat, and her skin was suddenly too tight for her body.
"Believe me, it's necessary," he muttered before turning on his heel and stalking out.
* * *
"Luke said two of these every four hours," Liza Savage said, dropping the tablets into Danni's cupped palm. "Safe for baby and good for mommy."
Danni managed a smile as she took the glass of water Liza handed her. It hurt to swallow, but she managed to down the tablets without choking. With Liza's help she'd changed into her nightshirt, then crawled gratefully into bed. Her muscles ached and her head was splitting.
"Thank goodness Lyssa's sleeping over at Jody's tonight," she muttered between sips.
"Finish the water," Liza ordered, looking like a dark-haired, dark-eyed Buddha in flowered tights and one of her husband Max's old police academy T-shirts.
Forced into retirement two years ago after a bullet in his spine had left him partially paralyzed, Max Savage had withdrawn completely for months before his love for Liza had given him the courage to fight back.
After nearly two years of grindingly hard therapy, he was able to walk again using only forearm crutches instead of the braces he'd worn for more than a year. Following the family tradition of medicine, he was now a full-time pre-med student at Oregon Health Sciences University.
Eight months pregnant with their second child, she and Max were transforming the third bedroom in their bungalow into a room for their son, Boomer, who would be two in a few weeks. Liza had been painting window trim when Luke had called, and she still had specks of steel blue paint in her dark hair.
"What're Max and Boomer doing while you're painting?" Danni asked between swallows.
"Boomer was sitting in his daddy's lap reading his storybook while Max read his hematology textbook. He has a final on Monday. Counts for half his grade so he's been hitting the books day and night. Even cut back on his therapy so that he could devote more time to cramming."
"How's he doing this semester?"
"Terrific!" Liza's eyes lighted. "Even carrying a heavier than usual load, he managed to bring his GPA up another couple of points to … ta-da, a sterling 3.4."
Danni managed a wan smile. "Good for him."
"I promised him a wild and wicked weekend at the coast as soon as he brings it up to a 3.5. I have my fingers crossed." She took the empty glass from Danni's limp fingers and put it on the nightstand. "Speaking of wild and wicked, who's the sexy guy with the big gun prowling like a caged lion downstairs? Luke just introduced him as Agent Cardoza. I assume he's FBI?"
"Secret Service." Danni slipped lower on the pillows. "He came to ask me some questions about The Weasel."
Liza smiled at the name Danni had coined during the manic days after she'd discovered the depth of her new husband's betrayal. It fit so perfectly they'd all taken to using it when discussing Jonathan Sommerset.
"Have they found him, I hope?"
Danni heard echoes of her own eager question in Liza's voice. "Not yet." She squeezed her eyes shut. "It turns out he's a serial weasel. Has a long list of gullible victims like me."
"If they knew he was a crook, why didn't they arrest him?" Liza sounded outraged. Danni knew she would be too—as soon as she had the energy.
"Apparently they did. Turns out he just night have … murdered one of his victims before she could testify."
"Oh my God! Where? When? Do they think he's going to come back here? Is that why they're here, too?"
Danni managed to wedge open her eyes. "We were just getting to the details when I had to keep a fairly intimate date with the john. After that, things are a little fuzzy."
"That does it! I'm calling Max, and we'll stay here tonight. Boomer can sleep in one of the twins' beds. It'll be good practice for the little dickens."
Danni's lashes drooped again. "I appreciate the offer, but it's not necessary. Jonathan isn't dumb enough to come back here. Heck, why should he? All I have left for him to steal are my clothes. Even that old junker I bought to replace the Lexus is in the shop."
Liza sighed. "You're right, sweetie. Like Max says, I tend to leap before I think." She laughed. "Like swooshing blithely down this monster ski slope where I had no business being in the first place, with about a million tons of snow right behind me."
Danni recognized the effort to change the subject and felt a wave of affection for her new friend. The ladies of the Mommy Brigade had been a godsend. Another silver lining in her gray storm-filled life.
"Is that how you two really met?" she roused herself enough to ask. "In the middle of an avalanche?"
"Absolutely!" Smiling at the memory, Liza drew up the sheet, then tucked it in. She was, after all, the mother of a toddler. "Max just scooped me up like a sack of potatoes and shot across the slope like he was going for the gold. We both ended up in a snowbank and the rest, as they say, is history."
"You should write a book."
Liza laughed. "When? Between taking care of my two very high maintenance men and my day-care kids, it's all I can do to carve out time to shower every day and rub cream on my belly."
"Darn, I meant to get some of that cow balm stuff you told me about," Danni muttered, drifting now.
"I'll bring you some." She felt Liza's hand on her forehead, smoothing back her hair. "Anything else you need, sweetie, before I leave you in peace?"
"No, but thank you. 'Preciate it."
Danni had given up trying to pretend she was "just fine."
After three and a half months of one crisis after another, one painful decision on top of the last, she needed some downtime.
As R & R, a bout with the flu was way down on her list, but it would have to do.
* * *
"Damn, I forgot about Lyssa," Jarrod said, drawing his brows together. "Did Danni mention when she was due home?"
Rafe tossed down the last of his coffee, then grimaced at the acrid aftertaste. As a rule he liked his coffee strong enough to eat through steel, but this was even too bitter for his abused taste buds.
"According to the notation on the calendar by the phone in the kitchen, the daughter is spending the night with someone called Jody. There's a number next to the name, but I don't see any upside to calling the kid tonight."
Rafe paused to give the cowboy doctor an opportunity to offer an opinion. When he merely lifted his eyebrows, Rafe asked curtly, "Do you have a different take?"
"Nope. Best thing for Danni right now is sleep. Be good for her to shut down for a while and not have to worry about anything but building up her strength." Jarrod took a sip of coffee, then rested the mug on his thigh. "Ordinarily, I
'd ask my wife to stay the night here, just in case, but Maddy's still recovering from this same bug. Prudy Randolph would be my second choice, but she's pulling night duty at the E.R. this week, and Stacy MacAuliffe is in Seattle this weekend."
"What about Mrs. Savage?"
Luke looked thoughtful. "Liza would certainly volunteer, but she's only about a month from delivering herself. I hate to add to her stress level."
Rafe's stress level was already well into the red zone and climbing. Good thing he'd thrown a pair of sweats into the carry-on bag he'd learned to take with him whenever he traveled, even when he had no plans to be gone overnight. Fifty percent of the time his plans took an unexpected turn. Like now. Along with clean shirts and underwear, he always packed jeans and his running shoes. He hated running, but it was the only form of exercise that kept his gut firm and his natural restlessness in check.
"My partner and I figured to catch the red-eye back to Washington once our business here was finished, but looks like we'll be staying over." In his mind's eyes he measured his six foot three frame against the sofa's length and decided it would be close. Still, he'd slept in a lot worse places. "Guess this is as good a place to bunk down as any," he decided aloud.
Jarrod narrowed his gaze. "No offense, Agent Cardoza, but I'm not real comfortable leaving my patient alone with a man neither of us knows—even if he is carrying a federal badge."
Rafe leaned back and stretched out his legs. While the pretty lady with the flashing dark eyes had been up with Danni, he'd sent Seth out for Chinese. That had been nearly forty minutes ago, and he was so hungry the walls of his stomach were rubbing together.
"Daniela and I grew up together, Dr. Jarrod, My father is still Mancini Vineyard's field foreman."
Surprise crossed the cowboy doc's tired face. "No lie?"
Rafe allowed himself a brief smile. "No lie."
Jarrod studied him with a measuring gaze that seemed to peel away more layers than most. "You have any objection to my taking a look at your identification?"
"Not a one." Leaning forward, Rafe worked his ID out of his back pocket and tossed it over. Then while Jarrod studied his credentials, he studied the cowboy doc. A strong face, he decided after a moment's reflection. A solid jaw. Enough gray in his thick dark hair and character lines in his face to suggest a life that hadn't been particularly soft. Most important for Rafe's purposes, the man had honest eyes.
"Sorry, had to make sure," Jarrod said as he underhanded the wallet back to him.
"No problem. It's good to know Daniela has friends to look out for her."
"Not always, apparently," Jarrod said grimly.
Rafe returned his ID to his pocket, then leaned back against the soft cushions and flexed his shoulders. Danni's half-drunk tea was still sitting where she'd left it. About a million hours ago, he thought as he dug his fingers into the knotted muscles at the back of his neck.
Jarrod watched him with sympathetic eyes. Rafe had a hunch he'd had his share of rough days and nights.
"Did you ever meet Sommerset?" he asked, giving up on the knot that refused to yield.
"No. My wife and I sent a wedding present shortly after Danni called to tell me she'd gotten married. A few days later she stopped by my office on the way to the hospital to thank me. Said Sommerset was taking her and Lyssa to England in a few weeks, but when they got back she intended to have a party to introduce him to her friends."
"Seem happy, did she?"
"Very." Jarrod's mouth took on a sardonic slant. "Spent a good fifteen minutes raving about how wonderful he was with her daughter and how Lyssa finally seemed to be getting over Mark's death."
Rafe felt his jaw tighten. There'd been a time when he would have felt a vicious satisfaction at learning of Fabrizio's death. Not as much as if he'd taken the guy out himself, but enough to burn off some of his simmering hatred for the man and everything he stood for.
He wasn't proud of those feelings, but he understood them. He'd been raw for a long time after he'd left. There had been times, especially in the beginning when he'd missed his family so much he'd been sick with it. Rage had been all that had kept him going.
It had taken him a lot of years and a lot of growing up before he'd figured out that his anger was really directed at himself. Accepting that he'd allowed himself to become a victim had been a rough pill to swallow, but he'd forced it down—along with a vow never to let anyone push him around again.
The anger was still there, like fire in his belly, but he'd learned to redirect it toward lowlifes like Folsom.
"How'd the daughter take her stepfather's desertion?" he asked, studying the polished toes of his loafers.
"Badly. Danni has her in counseling with a colleague. Goes at least once a week, maybe twice." Jarrod looked troubled. "Couldn't have happened at a worst time for the kid, either. Puberty's bad enough for kids who aren't dealing with facial scars and a traumatic loss."
Rafe's attention sharpened. "The girl is scarred?"
Jarrod nodded. "Flying glass, mostly. Sliced her face pretty good, although that was the least of her problems for the first few months, considering she nearly lost one of her legs."
Rafe muttered a soft obscenity. "Must have been rough on Daniela, seeing her daughter go through hell."
"It was, but she amazed us all at how strong she kept herself for Lyssa. As far as I know, no one ever saw her so much as waver in all the months she spent at Lys's bedside and then later, during rehab. Impressed the hell out of me, I'll tell you."
Rafe tucked all that Jarrod had revealed into the mental file where he kept information that might prove useful down the road before asking, "Since I'm volunteering to play nurse, is there anything I need to know?"
Jarrod's gaze sharpened, and Rafe could almost see him slipping into a starched white coat. "Give her two more Tylenol tabs at 1:00 a.m. Try to get at least a full glass of water down her as well. I'll leave my thermometer and if her temp spikes above 102, give me a call. The number's on the pad by the phone in the kitchen."
At the sound of footsteps on the stairs, he flexed his shoulders, then got slowly to his feet. "I'll just run up and check on her one more time before I walk Liza home."
* * *
Chapter 6
« ^ »
Danni felt a hand on her cheek and wanted to whimper because it felt so cool against her burning skin. Pathetically grateful, she turned toward the comfort it offered, then groaned when pain sliced a jagged line through her forehead just above her eyebrows.
"C'mon Danni, open your eyes for me," a deep voice coaxed.
Frowning, she struggled to obey, but her lids felt leaden.
"That's it, honey. Open your eyes. You'll feel a lot better once you get these pills in you."
Pills? Drugs? There was something important she needed to remember. Something… "Not s'posed to take pills," she murmured. "Dangerous."
"These are only Tylenol tablets, Danni. Dr. Jarrod prescribed them, remember?"
She felt a strong arm beneath her shoulders, lifting her to a sitting position. Her head felt too heavy for her body and flopped forward. Her teeth were chattering now, and she started to shiver all over. Panic worked its way through the thick haze that seemed to fade in and out around her. Every part of her body ached, and something large and painful seemed wedged in her throat. She clutched the hand brushing her hair away from her burning cheeks.
"Am I dying?" Her voice was abysmally weak, scarcely more than a whimper.
"No honey, you have the flu."
"But I … don't have time to be sick."
Rafe might have laughed at the peevish tone if her cheeks weren't fever bright and her skin paper pale. "I'm not sure you have the choice," he said as he held the glass to her lips. "Drink a little water first. It'll make the tablets go down easier."
Her lashes fluttered, then lifted and she looked up at him. "Why … why are you still here?" she asked in a bewildered little voice that pushed a lot of dangerous buttons.
&n
bsp; "Right now, I don't have a clue," he muttered through a tight jaw.
Those curly little lashes fluttered again, and he bit off a groan. He'd made some real dumb-ass decisions over the years, but volunteering to pull nursing duty for the only woman he'd ever loved was way past dumb. He thought about Gresham bedded down in the motel Jarrod had told them about near the hospital and clenched his jaw. Tomorrow night the rookie pulled nurse duty, no debate.
"Drink the water, Daniela," he commanded because issuing orders was something he knew how to do. Damned but if it didn't work too, he thought a little smugly when she meekly took a few swallows before looking up at him again.
He could smell her, sleep-warmed woman and flowers and some indefinable something that evoked images of that moonlight swim. Even as he reminded himself that she was extremely ill, and therefore off-limits, his body quickened. He blocked it out.
"Ready to take these pills now?" he asked a little brusquely.
She blinked, then licked her lips. "Why are you so mad at me?"
"I'm not mad."
"Then stop glaring at me."
"If I do, will you take these pills?"
A fierce little frown puckered her forehead. "Are you sure they won't … hurt my baby?"
"Scout's honor."
She sighed, then opened her mouth to let him put the tabs on her tongue.
"Drink it all," he ordered, holding the glass to those too-pale lips.
She obeyed, then let her eyelids drift close. An instant later she was asleep.
Emotions churning, he rested his hand against her cheek, trying to draw some of the fever into his own body. Sweet Danni, his little scrapper. Even as a little squirt she'd given as good as she got.
Once he'd wanted nothing more in life than the right to fall asleep next to her every night.
Biting off a sigh, he withdrew his hand and snapped off the light. Then taking one of the pillows from the bed, he settled down in the overstuffed chair near the window, propped his stocking feet on a nearby trunk, set his mental alarm for twenty minutes, and closed his eyes. An instant later he was asleep.
DADDY WITH A BADGE Page 7
