The Strength of His Heart

by Victoria Sue

  Just like mine.

  “Enhanced,” Sam said in bewilderment a fraction of a second before Vance did. Sam glanced up at him, sympathy in his eyes. “This is probably a stupid question—”

  “No,” Vance answered. He’d never seen either of them before. He stepped back and walked into the larger room, pulling his phone out of his pocket. This wasn’t just a drug bust anymore. He wasn’t sure exactly what it was, but his gut told him this was something else entirely. He dialed the number, and it was answered in three rings.

  “Talon?”

  “Hey, buddy. When am I going to see your ugly mug?”

  Vance opened his mouth to tell Talon it was very likely he would be seeing him soon, when Reed suddenly yelled, “Bomb!” Vance looked up as Reed nearly shot out of the small room, pushing Sam in front of him. Vance didn’t even think. He dropped the phone and dived—and not in the direction everyone else was running.

  THIS IS kinda nice. He knew by the smell whose small hand was holding his own. Wood chips with something a little tangy like oranges. He would know Sam anywhere, even with his eyes shut. Maybe he ought to open them, but if he did, he wasn’t sure Sam would still hold his hand.

  “Come on, big boy,” Sam urged and squeezed his hand a little tighter. Nope, he was just gonna lie here.

  “It’s no good, Talon,” Sam said after a minute. “I guess I’ll have to go and arrest that drug lord on my own.”

  “The fuck?” Vance croaked in alarm, forcing his eyes open and trying to heave himself upright.

  “Aww, that wasn’t nice.” He recognized Finn’s voice and then felt a firmer hand on his shoulder. Squinting brought Talon into view. The slim hand slipped out of his own.

  “Worked, though,” Sam said thoughtfully and linked his hands demurely on his lap.

  Vance scowled. “I just woke up,” he protested and looked around the room. Hospital. Not that he’d ever been in one as a patient, but he’d visited enough times. He groaned and shut his eyes again after another glance at the pinched lips that not only told him Sam was somehow angry at something, probably something he’d done, but that half the team was in the room to witness his humiliation. “What happened?” he croaked and tried to swallow.

  In a flash Sam was up and offering him a sip of water. Vance sipped very slowly because it gave him an excuse to touch the hand Sam wrapped around the glass. Sam didn’t look quite as mad this time, more worried. Vance let the straw go reluctantly but took a fraction longer to release Sam’s hand.

  “Can I get you a coffee?” Talon offered.

  “Are you insane?” Sam butted in. “He wants to actually get discharged.”

  Talon laughed and Vance chuckled. Then Vance moved, and his back rubbed against the sheet. A flare of pain made him hiss a short breath in.

  Finn immediately took Sam’s place. “We can get the nurse.”

  “I’ll get him some more water,” Sam said, picking up the nearly full jug and practically running from the room.

  Vance sighed and looked at Finn. “Now what did I do?”

  “He’s worried.” Finn chewed his bottom lip, then punched Vance on his arm. “We all were. Never ever do that sort of shit again.”

  Vance widened his eyes. He’d barely felt Finn’s hand, but Finn sounded worried. “What happened?”

  “What do you remember?” Gael stood and came over to the bed.

  What do I remember? Memory rushed in like an alarm clock in the second of disorientation before you shut it off. “Crap, there was a bomb.”

  “Yep,” Talon confirmed. “They’re not a hundred percent sure yet, but initial findings suggest the room was booby-trapped.”

  The bodies. “They were enhanced.”

  Talon blew out a breath. “So we understand from Sam, but the blast didn’t leave us much, which was probably the point.”

  “At least everyone got out,” Vance said in relief.

  “No, Vance. They didn’t. That’s what has Sam so upset. Reed, Dsouza, and two other officers from the BRPD were killed immediately in the blast. You saved his life,” Talon continued. “Apparently instead of running from the building, you dived on top of him. You shielded him from the blast.”

  Vance stared at Talon in confusion. “I did?” He remembered the shout but not much else.

  “All he has is a mild concussion,” Finn said.

  “Because you landed on him,” Gael added dryly. Vance glanced at Gael, not completely sure he was serious. “I swear to God,” Gael promised and crossed his heart.

  Vance winced again. “Did I hurt him anywhere else?”

  “No,” Talon said in exasperation. “You saved his life and got your back shredded in the process.” He waved his hand at Vance’s body. “It’s only because you’re enhanced, you’re not dead yourself. The paramedics said they didn’t even know it was possible.” Finn quickly put a hand on Talon’s arm, and Talon visibly calmed. He smiled. “You saved his life,” Talon repeated in case Vance still didn’t believe him.

  “Really?” Vance echoed, still amazed.

  “The ceiling collapsed, but you protected him from that too.”

  “Which protected your head and your legs from the fire,” Finn added.

  Then why is he mad? Vance had seen the look on Sam’s face as he left the room.

  Finn nudged Talon’s arm. “Survivor’s guilt,” he said knowingly.

  Gael nodded as if in agreement. Talon rolled his eyes. Vance knew what he meant, but he was still convinced there was something else.

  “Anyway, your skin is healing itself at a startling rate, even for us,” Talon added. “Third-degree burns in some places over your back, which would have had a regular human in the hospital for weeks. The muscle and tendon damage repaired itself when a regular would probably have never healed.”

  “The doctors are really excited about you,” Finn put in, and they all looked up as the door opened and Sam came walking in with a fresh jug of water.

  Vance attempted a smile and was gratified to get a hesitant one from Sam. It was something.

  “When can I go home?” Vance asked brightly. His back didn’t really hurt that bad. It had taken him by surprise was all.

  “I think the doctors want you for a while longer,” Finn said. “The downside of your nerves healing is that you have some pain.”

  “Huh?” Vance dragged his eyes from Sam.

  “It means”—Sam came to the bed finally—“third-degree burns don’t generally hurt because there’re no nerves left to feel pain.” He stopped close but just poured Vance a glass of water. “The main thing they were worried about was dehydration and blood loss with you, which is why you have two IVs.”

  Vance opened his mouth as Sam lifted the glass, and Sam hesitated for a second when it became obvious Vance was making no attempt to take it from him. A smile played on his lips, but he offered the glass and straw to Vance, and Vance curled his big hand around Sam’s smaller one. He let go of the straw after a few seconds. “I’m sorry about the other guys,” he said with feeling.

  Sam glanced down at the glass and Vance’s hand. He was going to say something—Vance knew he was—but just then the door opened and what looked like every doctor in the damn hospital walked in, a veritable sea of white coats.

  “Mr. Connelly,” the first one greeted him, and Sam immediately took a step back, which Vance didn’t like one bit. The doc paused and glanced around at the team, seeming a little nonplussed.

  Talon took the hint. “We’ll just wait outside.”

  Sam took another step away from the bed, as if he was about to follow the guys out. Vance shook his head.

  “Sam’s my partner, and Talon’s my team leader. You can say whatever you want in front of them.” The doctor looked uncomfortable, and with an amused flash of insight, Vance realized why the doctor was a little nervous. He had forgotten for a minute most people saw them as a threat, even with the good publicity lately and the work Finn was involved in with the schools.

  In fact,
most kids thought they were cool. It was their parents who took some convincing.

  “Very well,” the doctor agreed, with a hint of reluctance.

  Vance stuck out his hand, trying to appear friendly, but really a white coat wielded all sorts of superpowers he didn’t have.

  The doctor took it. “I’m Dr. Henshaw, and I’ve just been on a telephone consultation with Dr. Goran, who treated your colleague Gael Peterson over in Tampa.”

  Vance remembered. Their own Dr. Natalie was a fan of Dr. Goran. Gael smiled, but he didn’t say he was the colleague mentioned.

  “Uh-huh,” Vance agreed and wriggled his shoulders. They didn’t hurt so much now as itch. The doctor shook his head at Vance’s actions.

  “Remarkable,” he pronounced and beckoned to the nurse. For what seemed like an hour but was probably five minutes, Vance’s back was oohed and ahhed over by all the white coats. He stopped listening after a few minutes when one of them pronounced it was incredible that he wouldn’t need an autograft.

  “We need to keep you here for another week—”

  “What?” Vance interrupted Dr. Henshaw. There was no way.

  “Mr. Connelly, I have Dr. Yarisima flying in from Italy—”

  “Uh-huh.” Vance leaned back, knowing instantly what was going on, and he got it, he really did, but he had a job to do. “Well, I hope he got a refundable ticket, because I’m going home.”

  All the white coats gasped in unison, rather like a choir, but he wasn’t hanging around for the chorus, and he swung his legs out of bed, making sure the sheet came with him, because he wasn’t showing his ass to anyone.

  Well, at least… his eyes immediately sought out Sam, who was trying—he was pleased to see—not to laugh. One casual look at Talon, Gael, and Finn told him they were equally entertained. “Doc, I get that my skin is doing really good, but Doc Natalie can check on me, or I can go see Dr. Goran.”

  “But—” Dr. Henshaw looked like he was going to cry.

  “I’m going home,” Vance reiterated gently but firmly. He felt fine.

  Dr. Henshaw let out an aggrieved sigh, but there was nothing he could do, and he knew it.

  Vance waited until they had all trooped out. “Do I have any clothes here?”

  “I’m sure there’s a tarpaulin I can find somewhere,” Sam quipped immediately, and Vance snapped his lips closed, lowering his eyes, and tried not to let the “joke” sting worse than the burns.

  “Oh hell,” Sam whispered, voice contrite. “That was shit. I didn’t mean—”

  “We’ll go see what we can find,” Finn said quickly, and Talon and Gael went with him.

  Vance wanted nothing more than to be with Sam, or in Sam’s company, what seemed like every minute of every day, but all Sam did was joke and make fun of him. Big guy. He’d liked it when Sam had first said it when he had been undercover as Angel. Made the name seem to mean something else then. But he hated it now. He felt fat and ugly and—

  “I’m sorry,” Sam whispered, and his hand covered Vance’s. Vance froze. He couldn’t even jerk his hand away. “It’s not an excuse, but Reed was good to me when I first worked with them.”

  Vance caught the admission of something else in the hesitant words. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help everyone.”

  Sam’s other hand clasped his, and Sam hesitantly squeezed them, being careful to avoid the IV line. “You’re not Superman,” he said with a small curve of his lips.

  “No,” Vance agreed solemnly. “Finn has his own set of fans.” But he didn’t want to be Shrek either.

  Sam’s smile widened, and he tilted his head thoughtfully. “When will your mom and dad be home?”

  Vance tried to get his brain to work, but it was a lost cause with Sam touching him. It had been so from the first day he had seen him. Vance’s eyes widened. “What day is it?” They were on a cruise that all their kids had chipped in to pay for to celebrate their thirtieth wedding anniversary.

  “Thursday,” Finn supplied, hearing the question as he came back into the room empty-handed. “I’ve spoken to Connie myself, and as soon as they dock in Brisbane, they’re flying home. You were brought in on Tuesday night. Jacob and Chris were both here earlier, but as soon as the docs said you were okay, they left to check into a hotel.”

  “What happened yesterday?” Vance screwed his eyes up, trying to sort jumbled-up memories. He didn’t remember his brothers being here, but he wasn’t surprised they had both come.

  “They gave you a lot of really good drugs.” Sam waggled his eyebrows. “I’ll ask Talon to get our things from the motel.”

  The nurse came in. “I understand you’ve crushed all the doctors. Now I need to take out those IVs,” she said cheerfully.

  “Who’s at home?” Sam asked.

  Vance shrugged, then stopped when the skin on his back pulled a little. He actually didn’t mind the thought of having the house to himself for a few days.

  “You can come home with me until they get back.”

  Vance didn’t move for the second time in less than a minute. He wasn’t sure oxygen was flowing around his body. He certainly wasn’t breathing any in. He tried—for another second—to come up with a reason it was a bad idea, but not surprisingly, he couldn’t think of a single one.

  Chapter Two

  SAM TRIED not to chew his lip like some fifteen-year-old ingenue. He was a member of an elite FBI team, a respected detective, and a capable adult who had been managing his own life since he was fourteen. No, that wasn’t true. He never actually remembered a point when he hadn’t been managing his own life. Managing? Might be a bit of a stretch. Surviving was a better one. Existing might be more truthful. How old had he been when he worked out if he wanted to eat, he had to find it himself? And that’s if he managed to stay out of the way of his dad’s fists, served with a slice of his mom’s indifference and finished off with a dose of humiliation. He’d learned pretty quickly that sometimes spending nights in the cold and rooting through the garbage was better than the alternative waiting inside.

  He’d gotten out, though. All it had taken was the worst day of his life and a death.

  Talon had made Vance stay in the hospital one more night, which Vance hadn’t been impressed with, but they had all taken turns keeping him company. His brothers visited while Sam left to get a shower and change his clothes, and Vance told Sam they had left to go back to Tampa.

  So Sam had stayed.

  He’d fallen asleep in the plastic chair from hell at one point, even though Vance had urged him to go back to the hotel with the others. As far as Sam was concerned, the fact he was alive and could bitch about sitting in a chair was due to the mountain currently snoring in the bed. Not that he minded that either. He looked up from trying to ease his sore neck muscles when he noticed the room was silent.

  “I told you to go back to get some sleep,” Vance pointed out.

  Sam shook his head stubbornly.

  Vance shuffled across the bed to make room. “Then at least lie down. I can hear the creak in your spine all the way over here.” And he promptly shut his eyes again.

  Sam opened his mouth to protest, to explain why that was a really bad idea, but the way Vance shut his eyes immediately stopped him. Like it wasn’t the big deal Sam thought. He glanced at the closed door. The nurses had just checked Vance and wouldn’t be making their rounds for a while.

  And he was exhausted.

  Carefully, so as not to touch Vance, Sam lay in the small space next to him and tried not to move. The room was quiet, even with the noise of the traffic outside, and he could have cried in relief as sleep immediately lulled his own eyes closed.

  Sometime later, the noise of the cart in the corridor woke him. He registered the daylight around the window blinds and jerked fully awake, then scrambled out of bed.

  Vance chuckled. “’S all right. What they gonna do, throw me out?”

  Sam grinned. “I’m pretty sure there’s a rule about getting in bed with a patient.”

&n
bsp; Vance gazed at him lazily like Sam was panicking about nothing. “I slept good. Thanks for having my back, partner.”

  “I didn’t,” Sam said after a few seconds. “You had mine.”

  “WHERE DO you want me to sleep?” Vance said casually after Sam had unlocked his apartment door and glanced at Vance, barely refraining from rushing over to him. He looked gray. The fact that he had suffered through a nine-hour car ride three days after what for a normal person would have been a life-threatening injury wasn’t lost on Sam. He thought Gregory might have insisted on them staying since Jaylen was still missing, but his instructions to return had been very clear.

  Talon had driven them back home to Tampa while Sam had finished writing his report in the car. They were hoping to hear from the crime scene guys soon. Not that there had been a lot of the original crime scene left, and now there was a goddamn disastrous one to go through.

  Gregory had made it plain he wanted Sam to return to the unit, though, and Sam was okay with that. Being sucked back into the DEA wasn’t in his career plan, and nothing or no one was going to derail that. After seeing the two dead enhanced, he thought it was likely their team would get involved. Could be interesting.

  “Come and sit down,” Sam urged. The car journey had been too long for him, but Vance had been so desperate to leave and Sam’s concussion made him unable to drive, so they had all piled into Talon’s truck. It was huge even for someone of Vance’s size, but with four other people, it wasn’t roomy enough for Vance to stretch out.

  He’d been looking steadily worse for the past few hours, and Finn had kept sending Sam worried glances. Talon had simply driven as fast as he could, dropped them both off at Sam’s, and left after making sure Sam had the basics of milk and bread and the pills Vance was sent home with. Gael had said firmly they would be stopping by the next day and to call him if Sam had any cause for concern.

  “In here,” Sam said, gesturing to the bed in answer to Vance’s question. He carefully didn’t point out that Vance’s feet would hang over the end of his queen bed. He wasn’t going there after trying to show off at the hospital and hurting Vance. Sam had been bullied nearly all his life by people who were physically bigger than him and had learned pretty quickly his only weapons were speed and intelligence—being both fast on his feet and quick with his tongue. He absolutely knew Vance had a thing for him. He would have been blind not to notice, but he was never going to give anyone that sort of power over him, especially someone Vance’s size.