by Lara Lacombe
She let out a breath, shooting a glare at Thomas before responding. “I wanted some fresh air. I was just going to stand outside the door so they could talk in private.”
James turned to Jenny. “I see.” He stepped forward, hand outstretched. “James Reynolds. Nice to meet you.”
“Jenny Kincannon,” she said, reluctantly taking his hand. Claire nodded, appreciating the confirmation of her hunch. They were indeed related.
“Now then,” James said, clasping his hands behind his back as he addressed the three of them in turn. “I’m here to take custody of Dr. Fleming and escort her to the safe house. You,” he said, and looked at Thomas, “are to check in tomorrow morning, if your doctor clears you to return to duty. You—” he faced Claire “—are to come with me so I can get you set up at a secure location. And you,” he said as he glanced at Jenny, “well, I don’t really have information for you. Do whatever you like, I suppose.”
Thomas nodded, closing his eyes. “Good. I’ll sleep better knowing she’s safe. Who’s on guard duty tonight?”
“Me and Natalie.”
His eyes snapped open and he started to lean forward again, but Jenny’s restraining hand on his shoulder kept him from getting far.
“You? That can’t be right—Kelly would never allow it.”
James shrugged. “She’s out of town at a conference, so what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Besides, would you really trust anyone else?”
“No,” Thomas said quietly. “Just take care of her, will you?”
“Excuse me?” Claire interrupted, bristling at being talked about like she wasn’t there. “I am not a pet. I don’t need someone to take care of me. I can take care of myself.” Well, sort of. As long as there wasn’t a knife-wielding assassin in the picture.
“No one doubts that,” James assured her, placing a hand on her elbow. “But this is standard procedure in the wake an attack. Let’s head out so we can get you set up in your new home. I imagine you’re pretty tired.”
As if his words had broken the dam she’d built to keep the events of the day away, a wave of fatigue washed over her, nearly making her stumble. “Yes.” She turned back to face Thomas, wanting to tell him good-night. She could tell by the look on his face there were things he wanted to say to her, but based on the set of his jaw, she knew he wouldn’t speak in front of James or Jenny.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” she asked. It seemed they had a lot to discuss.
He nodded, blue eyes steady on her face. “Count on it,” he murmured.
She glanced at Jenny as she walked back to James. “It was nice to meet you,” she offered, giving the other woman a nod.
“Yeah,” Jenny replied absently, her eyes still on Thomas. “Take care.”
James reached out to place a hand on Thomas’s blanket-covered foot. “Rest easy, man. You’ve got my number if you need anything.”
Thomas nodded. “Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I’m counting on it.” James gestured for Claire to precede him. “After you, Doctor.”
As they stepped out together, she glanced back in the room. Thomas was leaning back in the bed, his gaze focused on her and an expression of longing on his face. When their eyes met, he gave her a quick grin and a wink, which had warmth blooming in her stomach. He held her gaze until the door swung shut, and Claire smiled as she fell into step beside James.
Thomas was safe. She was safe.
It was enough for now.
* * *
Thomas watched Claire walk away with James, hating that he was stuck in this bed while she was off with someone else. He trusted James completely—there was no one better for the job—but that didn’t mean he had to be happy about being sidelined. Besides, after that kiss, it was clear they needed to talk.
He leaned back against the pillow, his body relaxing as he recalled the feel of her lips against his own. Soft and supple one minute, fierce and demanding the next, the woman kissed with a fearless abandon that made his blood heat and his groin tighten. And if her kisses were so uninhibited, how would she be in bed?
He rubbed absently at his chest, his skin still tingling from the weight of her breasts. He should have reached up to cup them—would have, had they not been interrupted.
He stifled a sigh as he regarded Jenny. Although her entrance had been unwelcome, it was probably for the best. A few more minutes, and Thomas would have had Claire pinned beneath him, hospital bed be damned.
“I don’t like her.” Jenny stared down at him with her arms crossed, the very picture of disapproval.
“You don’t have to like her,” he said, proud of himself for keeping his tone even when his first impulse was to defend Claire.
“Please, Thomas.” She sat on the bed, taking his hand in both of her own. “Please get another assignment.”
“You know I can’t. If I ask for another assignment, I may as well turn in my badge.”
“Would that be such a bad thing?”
Anger flared, hot and fast, burning away the residual arousal from kissing Claire. He opened his mouth to respond, but the look on Jenny’s face stopped him. She was terrified, scared almost to the breaking point. She stared down at him, her expression pleading. He could see the ghost of his brother in her eyes, knew she was thinking about Roger’s death and was worried about losing him, too.
It was something he’d thought about a lot in the months after his brother’s death. Was it fair of him to continue working in such a dangerous job, knowing that if he were killed, it would destroy his family? His mother had already lost one son. Could he really ask her to survive the death of another? How would Emily respond, losing another link to her father? And Jenny, left alone to raise her daughter and care for her ailing mother-in-law.
On the face of it, his decision to remain with the bureau seemed a selfish choice. After all, he was willingly putting his safety at risk on a regular basis. Some would say it was only a matter of time until the risks caught up with him. Perhaps they already had. He absently ran his finger over the bandage on his neck, the gauze a small reminder of his mortality.
In the end, though, he couldn’t walk away from a job that meant so much to him. His family was important, but deep down, he was afraid that if he quit to spare them the stress of his occupation, he’d grow to resent them. That was a risk he wasn’t willing to take. Besides, he knew all too well that there were no guarantees in life. He could have the safest job in the world and still get hit by a bus.
He knew his mother and Jenny had a hard time accepting his decision to stay with the bureau. They had repeatedly suggested he transfer to another division, one that was more desk oriented and would keep him out of harm’s way. Each time, he’d refused to consider it, knowing that such a move would not suit him. Each time, they’d dropped the subject when it was clear he wasn’t going to change his mind. He’d thought they had accepted his choice, but in the wake of Jenny’s request, he realized the issue was far from settled.
Even though he was not in the mood for this conversation, it was hard to stay angry with Jenny. It was obvious that her heightened worry over his safety was driven by a desire to protect the family she had left. He understood the instinct, and realized too that if he hadn’t wound up in the E.R. tonight, the topic of his leaving the bureau would have stayed safely buried. Still, he was getting tired of defending his choices over and over again to the people he looked to for support. Just once, he would like to have a conversation that didn’t end with him feeling guilty.
“I don’t want to discuss this right now. Don’t you have to get back to your patients?”
Jenny nodded, worrying her bottom lip as she looked at him thoughtfully. “I do, but I don’t want to leave you alone.”
Thomas resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He was lying in a hospital bed, for crying out loud. What c
ould possibly happen? “I’ll be fine,” he said, trying to soften his tone. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
She arched her brow, letting him know his sarcasm was not appreciated. “Wouldn’t you like some company? Mom is staying with Emily, but I could call Tanya—she’d be happy to come sit with you.”
“God, no!” The last thing he needed was his ex-girlfriend to complicate an already tangled situation. Jenny’s eyes widened, and he realized his rejection had been a little too enthusiastic.
“What’s wrong with Tanya?” she asked, cocking her head to the side as she studied him. Her scrutiny made him feel like a suspect under interrogation, and he wanted nothing more than for her to leave.
“Nothing’s wrong with her,” he hedged, trying to come up with a plausible explanation for his knee-jerk negative response. “I just don’t feel like company right now.”
Jenny nodded, apparently satisfied. “Fair enough. But if you change your mind, I’d be happy to call her. You two were such a cute couple.” She smiled, a dreamy look in her eyes. “In fact, I think she still has feelings for you.”
Thomas didn’t respond, unsure of what to say. He and Tanya had dated a few years ago, right around the time Roger and Jenny had gotten married. The two couples had spent a lot of time together, and Jenny and Tanya had become friends. It made sense that Jenny would look back on those days with nostalgia, since she and Roger had been so happy.
What Jenny didn’t know was that Tanya had cheated on him with one of her coworkers. He closed his eyes, the image of her face as she confessed the affair still as fresh as ever. She’d been all tears and apologies, and he’d stood there in silent shock, his insides turning hollow, feeling like someone had just cut him off at the knees. He’d walked away from her without a word, and a few days later she’d moved to Chicago. He’d never told Roger and Jenny why they had broken up, and until recently, he’d never seen a reason to explain it.
But now Tanya was back, and she and Jenny had resumed their friendship. He didn’t begrudge Jenny her friends—she definitely needed a support system, now more than ever—but he wasn’t happy that Tanya had returned to his life, even if she was only on the fringes. He wanted nothing to do with her, and he especially didn’t want her trying to worm her way back into his good graces through Jenny.
When this was over, he was going to have to sit down with Jenny and explain why he and Tanya hadn’t worked out. She was welcome to count the other woman as a friend, but his relationship with Tanya was a thing of the past, never to be repeated.
“I hope you’re not encouraging her,” he said, holding her gaze so she would know he was serious. “I’m not interested in a relationship.” Except with Claire, he silently amended. That was one woman he wanted to get to know better, in many ways.
“Of course I’m not,” she said, a little too casually. “You’re an adult. You can find your own girlfriends.”
“Jenny,” he said, drawing out her name in warning.
“I really should get back. I’ve been gone too long. Have them page me if you need anything.” She dropped a kiss to his forehead, then turned and practically ran out of the room. Thomas glared at the door, frustration mounting. It would be a cold day in hell before he’d let Tanya back into his life, and the sooner Jenny understood that, the better.
He dropped his head to the pillow and stared up at the ceiling tiles, forcibly pushing Tanya from his mind. He’d had a rough day, and he wasn’t going to waste another minute thinking about his ex-girlfriend.
Better to think about Claire, and his current case. His emotions settled as he sifted through the facts, organizing his thoughts, the exercise as soothing as meditation. It was clear Claire Fleming was in danger. She hadn’t been able to provide them with any leads so far, but maybe the attack could give them one. The man may have said something to her when they’d been alone, something that had her reevaluating her previous interactions with Novikoff. He made a mental note to ask her about their conversation before he’d stumbled into the room. There was a reason the assassin hadn’t killed her right away, and he wanted to know why.
He also needed to find out who they were dealing with. The man knew his way around a knife, that much was clear. He was obviously a professional, which meant there might be a file on him somewhere.
He spied the plastic hospital bag containing his personal effects on the chair in the corner of the room. He sat up, wanting to retrieve his phone to make a quick call to the office.
Whoa. The sudden wave of dizziness brought on by his change in position hit him hard, and he closed his eyes and swayed a bit, sucking in air as he fought against the urge to vomit.
After a moment, his own personal Tilt-A-Whirl came to a stop. Moving with a healthy regard for his balance, Thomas eased himself off the bed and made his way over to the chair, his legs and the IV pole providing a shaky support. Gritting his teeth, he retrieved his phone and began the long trek back, stepping with exaggerated care to stay upright. Don’t fall. He’d never hear the end of it if he did.
He climbed back into the bed with a sigh, realizing for the first time just how badly he’d been injured tonight. In the heat of the moment, with his adrenaline pumping, he had underestimated the severity of his wound. Now, exhausted after making a round-trip of roughly six feet, he recognized just how lucky he’d been. Goose bumps broke out on his skin as he recalled Jenny’s words. A little bit to the right...
Shaking off the memory, he gave the bag of blood hanging from the IV pole a salute. “Does a body good,” he murmured, flipping open his phone and dialing in. He quickly relayed his recollections and impressions of the assassin, instructing the agent on the other end of the line to start combing the records and international databases immediately. The case wasn’t going to stop just because he was in the hospital, not when the danger to Claire was still fresh.
Satisfied he’d done all he could from his sickbed, Thomas hung up and leaned back against the stiff pillow. His vertigo returned when he closed his eyes, but it was a pleasant, swirling sensation, nothing at all like the sickening whirlpool he’d been caught in earlier.
He pressed his fingertips to his lips, and drifted into the eddy with the image of Claire in his mind.
* * *
The house was nondescript, but she supposed that was how a safe house should look. The beige brick and brown wood trim blended in nicely with the rest of the neighborhood, making it just one more in a long line of cookie-cutter houses.
She was surprised the neighborhood was so close to the city. For some reason, she’d heard the words safe house and had immediately pictured a lonely cabin out in the woods, fortified by fences and alarm systems and guard dogs. This place was smack-dab in the middle of a neighborhood; the discarded bicycles parked under trees and sidewalks covered in chalk were a testament to the fact that families lived here, children played here. The thought of being surrounded by innocent people wasn’t soothing, though—it was distressing.
“Is it safe?” she asked as James pulled into the garage, shutting the door behind them before unlocking the car doors.
“Sure is. It doesn’t look like much, but it’s got top-of-the-line security.”
“I meant for them.” At his blank look, she pointed at the garage door, indicating the houses beyond. “The neighbors. What if Victor comes back? I don’t want anybody getting hurt because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“That won’t happen,” he assured her. “In fact, having a lot of people around works to our advantage.” He unlocked the door and stepped into the house, disarming the alarm and scanning the interior before gesturing her inside.
“How so?” She walked into the kitchen, glanced around. It was a bit on the small side, not much larger than the kitchen in her apartment. It was better equipped, however, she noticed, eyeing the Sub-Zero fridge, electric range and double ovens. All
new appliances, from the looks of them. She relaxed somewhat. If they had taken such care with the kitchen appliances, the security had to be even better, right?
James popped back into the room, sliding his gun into its holster as he walked over to her. “The more people who are around, the more reluctant Victor will be to engage, even if he does find out where you are. Witnesses are always inconvenient, especially to a man in his line of work.”
A sudden chill of fear skittered across her skin, making her shudder. James was right. This was Victor’s job. Just as she took pride in her work, wanted to do her best, so did Victor. And that meant he wasn’t going to stop until she was dead.
James noticed the gesture. “You’ve had a long day,” he said kindly. “Are you hungry? I can fix you something to eat.”
“No, thanks.” Her stomach was already a bit queasy, and she didn’t think food would help. “You mentioned another agent’s name at the hospital—Natalie?”
He nodded, filling a glass of water and handing it to her. She took it, grateful to have something to hold. “Yes. Natalie is picking up some things from your apartment right now, like clothes and toiletries. There are a few T-shirts and sweats in your room now, but we figured you’d prefer to have your own things.”
“Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank us, Dr. Fleming. It’s what we do.”
Yes, and that was the problem, wasn’t it? These men and women put themselves in danger every day, and although most of the time they emerged unscathed, every once in a while someone got hurt. Someone like Thomas, who was lying alone in a hospital bed, lucky to be alive.
All because of her.
And now, other agents were in danger.
Exhaustion and emotion pulled at her, made her limbs heavy and clumsy. With shaking hands, she set the glass of water down on the counter. “If it’s all right with you, I’m going to take a shower and head to bed. I’ll meet Natalie in the morning.”
“Of course. Let me show you to your room.”
