Hidden Heat: Hauberk Protection, Book 4

by Leah Braemel

  Sam caught her as she flung herself at him, lifting her off the ground so he could kiss her.

  “It’s all right, Rosebud. I just had to make sure the police got everything squared away. Didn’t mean for you to get worried.” She should be happy for Rosie that Sam was safe. But with Troy in surgery, she found it hard to squelch the jealousy surging through her.

  Still holding Rosie off the ground, Sam glanced over at Chad. “Any news?”

  Chad shook his head. “He’s still in surgery.”

  He let Rosie down but kept his arm around her. “Hey, Sandy, how you doin’?”

  “Worried,” Sandy admitted.

  “He’ll be fine, honey. He was bleeding like a stuck pig but the paramedics got to him real quick.”

  Rosie swatted him in the chest. “Stupido, she didn’t need to hear that last bit.”

  The group got quiet again as they waited. Each time the door to the operating rooms opened everyone would look up hopefully. When the orderly or nurse walked past without sparing them a glance, everyone slumped back in their seats. As the silence grew heavier, Sandy picked at a seam on her purse, wishing she could go back to this morning, that she’d had the courage to tell Troy she loved him too.

  It seemed forever before the double doors opened and a woman in scrubs appeared. She took one look at the group and headed straight for them. “McPherson?”

  Sam rose with a nod, no trace of a smile on his face. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I’m Dr. Rosslyn—I operated on Mr. McPherson. He’s stable. Luckily for him there was no artery or bone damage. We won’t know about nerve damage until he’s fully out of the anesthesia but if all goes well, we’ll probably be able to release him tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” Sandy squeaked. “How can you release him so quickly if he’s been in surgery for so many hours.”

  All heads turned to her. “Sandy, ” Scott said, his tone gentle, “Troy’s been in surgery less than an hour.”

  Less than an hour? That couldn’t be right. But she glanced at Rosie who nodded in agreement. “I could have sworn… It felt like…” forever.

  “He’s being moved to recovery now.” Dr. Rosslyn’s gaze swept the group but lingered longest on her. “You can visit him, but only two at a time and only for five minutes each.”

  All gazes swiveled to her as Sam said, “Sandy, do you want to see Troy first?”

  Sandy nodded. “Yeah, I do.” Her knees shook when she stood. Even though she knew he was all right, she didn’t know if he’d want to see her. “Scott? Would you come with me?”

  His smile put her at ease as he stood. “Of course I will.”

  The trip down the hallway to the recovery area was only a couple dozen steps, but it stretched before her as if it were miles.

  The doctor stopped in front of a blue printed curtain halfway down the room. “He’ll still be groggy but he’s awake.” She pulled the curtain aside then left them alone.

  Scott pushed Sandy toward the bed. “Go on, talk to him.”

  Her breath catching in her throat, Sandy walked closer. Troy’s eyes were closed, his dark lashes accentuating the pallor of his skin, his leg was encased in a huge bandage. She stood at the side of the bed, wanting to take his hand but afraid to disturb the IV leads. “Hey,” she said softly.

  His eyes fluttered open and turned in her direction, his pupils large and unfocussed. “Sandy?”

  She smoothed the hair off his forehead. “You sure gave us a scare.”

  “Why are you here?” He blinked and frowned. “Wait. Scott. How’s Scott?”

  Scott stood on the opposite side of the bed. “I’m right here. You’re the only one who was stupid enough to get shot.”

  Why are you here? What did he mean? Did he not want to see her? She took a deep breath. “Do you want me to leave? Should I send Chad or someone else in?”

  Troy gave his head a small shake and lifted the hand on the other side, the one without the needles. “Want you here. Always.”

  She choked back her sob and reached across to touch his hand. “Oh, God, Troy, I’ve been so worried about you. When I heard there’d been shots fired—” I’d thought maybe I’d lost you. That I’d never get to tell you I love you too.

  “Don’t be afraid of me.”

  Of him? Because of what he’d told her about killing Garcia, or his father? “I’m not afraid of you. I’ll never be afraid of you. For you, yeah, totally, but never of you.”

  “Yes, you are.” His words were mumbled and slurred. She cast a worried glance at Scott who shook his head and mouthed “it’s the drugs”. His eyes drooped until they closed and his voice dropped to a husky whisper. “Love you.”

  “I love you too, Troy.” She lifted his fingers to her lips then pressed her cheek against them. “God, I love you so much it scares me.”

  She waited for a reaction, a response, something, but his eyes didn’t open, and his lips didn’t curl into a grin.

  “He’s asleep, honey,” Scott whispered. “Come on, let’s let him rest. The nurse over there is giving us the evil eye and tapping her watch.”

  As he guided her back to the waiting room, Sandy strained to look back until she couldn’t see Troy anymore. As she trudged down the corridor back toward the cramped waiting area, she couldn’t help wondering, “Do you think he heard me?”

  “I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out when he wakes up.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The television in the next cubicle blared the inane chatter of one of the morning talk shows and the crackled voice over the intercom squawked altogether too loud. After a hospital worker delivered a breakfast tray, Troy lifted the cover hopefully and cursed under his breath to find a clump of oatmeal, suspiciously pale scrambled eggs and two rashers of limp bacon.

  An hour later a nurse who looked like she’d barely graduated high school, let alone nursing school, poked her head around the curtain and frowned at the remains of his breakfast. “You didn’t eat anything, Mr. McPherson. Are you not feeling well?”

  He gestured to the tray. “Anyone would get grumpy eating that slop. There’s no way in frickin’ hell those were real eggs, the coffee was little better than dishwater, and every damned thing was colder than a witch’s tit in the arctic in January. I can’t sleep with the noise around here and my fucking leg hurts like a son of a bitch.”

  “Oooh, somebody’s grumpy, I see.” Did they give perky lessons in nursing school because someone really needed to tell those instructors that perky could bug the shit out of a patient stuck in a hospital bed.

  “I haven’t had any visitors, have I? A blonde a couple inches taller than you?” he asked, unable to hide the hope in his voice.

  “Not yet but visiting hours aren’t for three hours and you should be released by then.”

  “I could have sworn…” I’d heard her voice. Strange, he was certain someone had touched his forehead while he’d been sleeping. Probably a nurse.

  “Let’s see how you’re doing, shall we?” Cold air hit his dick and his balls when she flipped aside the covers, baring the big-ass bandage on his thigh. Okay, so he was in a corner unit and the curtain between him the bed beside him was drawn but the nurse didn’t need that type of peep show. Not to mention the fucking hospital was cold and his balls had shriveled to the size of grapes.

  He grabbed the covers and scrunched them over his groin then hissed in a breath when she ripped the tape from his skin, tearing a handful of hair along with the adhesive. No matter how he tried not to look, he couldn’t stop his eyes from dropping. Oh shit. It was a fucking good thing he was lying down or she’d guess what a wimp he’d morphed into. Even so, sweat gathered in his armpits and the back of his knees and his muscles reduced to like gelatin at the sight of the little black line of stitches holding his skin together.

  “There’s no blood, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

  “I don’t mind blood.” When it’s someone else’s.

  “Mmm.” She wasn’t buying
it. “It looks good.” She placed a much smaller, fresh bandage over the wound with chirpy efficiency. “Have you arranged for someone to pick you up today?”

  “That would be me.” Scott grinned at Troy’s hand clutching the bedding over his groin.

  “Excellent.” The nurse straightened the covers and turned to Scott as if Troy had ceased to exist. “The doctor’s already been to see him and the discharge papers are all set. I’ll run down to the nurses’ station and get the prescription and instructions for care of the wound, shall I?”

  Scott stepped aside as she bustled past and caught Troy staring past him. “If you’re looking for a certain blonde, she’s not here.”

  “I was checking out the nurse. She’s got a great ass.”

  “Liar,” Scott said without any heat.

  Troy thumped his head into the pillow. “Yeah. I am.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “I fucked up with Sandy. I moved too fast and scared her away.”

  “You didn’t blow it. She loves you too.” Scott set a bag on the bed and pulled out a folded pair of underwear along with track pants and socks. “Here, put these on and let’s get you home.”

  “Thanks.” He went through the motions of getting dressed. As much as he hated wearing sweatpants in public, they were a hell of a lot easier to pull over the bandage than his jeans would have been. He grabbed the crutches they’d given him earlier and stood. He nearly fell back on his ass as his vision greyed and his head swam at being vertical so quickly. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Ignoring the nurse’s startled expression, he stumped toward the bank of elevators. Nurse Perky chased after him, calling his name but he kept walking. Bugger the paperwork. He had to get out of here. Sandy hadn’t phoned him or come with Scott. That confirmed his fears. Despite Scott’s assurances, he’d lost her.

  On the drive home Troy stared out the window at the trees coated in the latest snowfall. Despite the sun glittering off the white blanket, the place was drab and dreary. Bugger this. So she didn’t want to hear that he loved her. Screw it. Who needed her? Put her behind you and get on with your life.

  Fuck, that thought sucked. He decided to focus on something not Sandy-related. “What happened with Rowlands? He die?”

  “Yup. You know how Chad said one of his clients was connected with the mob? Well, apparently he’d given Rowlands a deadline to get his money back. They’re trying to track down who the shooter was and how he’s connected to the case, but they figure he was behind it.” Scott eased the car into the left lane as they approached the condo. “In the meantime the D.A.’s finally putting Mrs. Rowlands into protective custody while they grill her for any information they can get about how he’d been laundering money for the mob.”

  “How is Jazz, by the way?”

  “Shaken, but she’ll get through it.”

  He stayed quiet until Scott pulled into the underground garage. Okay, it had to be said. He took a deep breath. “I owe you an apology, don’t I? It got pretty intense back there and you didn’t fold when I thought you would have. I misjudged you. And I’m sorry.”

  Scott shoved the car into park. “Yeah, you did. But Chad’s a good boss and I’m working active cases again, so…”

  “Yeah.” So…

  Ignoring the throbbing in his leg that had started during the ride over, he followed Scott to the garage elevator. Thankfully Scott wasn’t any more talkative than him. There was no way in hell he could have concentrated on a conversation the closer he got to his unit. The yards between the elevator and his door were far too short and covered far too quickly. At least in the hospital, he wouldn’t have to look at his bed and know Sandy had been there once. He wouldn’t have to smell her perfume or her shampoo on his pillow. Once the smell of her faded, the paint on the walls would be a permanent reminder. Oh, sure, he could paint over it, but he’d now always see his apartment with her lying on his bed, surrounded by his things.

  Scott unlocked the door, pushed it open, then stepped aside. “Welcome home.”

  He stayed in the hall, unwilling to be assailed by the knowledge of what he’d once had and lost. “It’s not a home. Not without her here.”

  “Get your ass inside before you start feeling too sorry for yourself.” When he didn’t move, Scott grabbed his arm and shoved him inside. The door closed behind him, keys jingled on the other side of the door, locking him in.

  Troy stumbled to a halt when he saw Sandy standing in the middle of the living room. For a brief moment—one glorious, beautiful moment—he was giddy with relief, beyond happy to see her. Then he remembered the day before and his happiness shattered. She might as well have taken an ice pick and split his chest open. “What are you doing here?”

  She flinched and lowered her eyes, her smile disappearing in a flash. “I was worried about you.”

  “Not worried enough to meet me at the hospital.” He shrugged out of his coat, trying to ignore the pain in his chest.

  “I didn’t figure we could talk there. Not the way we need to.”

  “Talk? The time to talk was yesterday, but you ran away like a scared rabbit.” He stumped into the bedroom, exhausted far more than he wanted to show. “It’s obvious you don’t want to be with me and I don’t need your pity so I don’t know what else there is to say.”

  Sandy followed him, placed herself directly in front of him. “I do want to be here, and I’m not here because I pity you. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have run out yesterday.”

  He closed his eyes at her statement. It was all well and good for her to apologize but what would happen next time he said he loved her? Because he wanted to say it to her. Over and over again.

  ”I was a wimp and a coward and I’m so sorry if I hurt you,” she continued. “But you scared me.”

  “I told you I loved you. I’ve never said that to a woman before.” Hell, he’d not had anyone to say it to since his mother had died. “You threw it back in my face, and now you stand here…and…and…expect me to forget it happened?”

  “I love you too. I know I should have said it back to you but I’ve said it to someone before and it didn’t work out well.”

  God, what he would have given yesterday to have heard those words. Why did it feel different hearing them now? He wanted to believe her but he couldn’t set aside her reaction the day before. “I know you don’t want to be tied down but I need those ties. I haven’t had them in so long and I liked them. I liked knowing you were here, waiting for me at the end of a trip. Knowing I’d wake up in the morning and you’d be right there beside me. I’ve never asked a woman to move in with me before. I’ve never trusted anyone enough before.”

  “I know,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

  “How do I know you’ll be there tomorrow? Or the next day? Or the next month? Because I don’t think I could stand losing you again.” He lifted his hand and let it hover a half-inch away from her cheek but couldn’t bring himself to actually close the space between his fingers and her skin. After flexing his fingers, he let his hand drop. “You don’t have to marry me, though I’d be there in a heartbeat if you wanted. I’m not asking you to have kids if you don’t want to. Just be with me. Stay with me. Let me love you.

  “But if you don’t want to be with me for the rest of my life, then leave now. Rip the bandage off fast.” It would hurt like hell, but maybe, one day, he’d get over it. Though he imagined that day would be long in the future.

  From deep inside her purse, Sandy’s cell phone rang. Instead of digging into her purse, she just stared at him, her beautiful plump lips parted, her eyes soft and glistening. The ringing stopped and immediately started again.

  The moment broken, he stepped back and gestured at her ringing purse. “Answer the damned thing, will you?”

  With a sigh she retrieved her phone and grimaced. “Hey, Mom.”

  He turned away, unable to look at her anymore. Leaving her in the bedroom to hold her conversation in private, he wandered into the living room. But distance couldn’t
mute the clear tones of her voice. “I told you, I’m fine.”

  The shooting had probably made the news and Mrs. Hallquist was calling to check on Sandy. He’d never had anyone call to check on him before he’d joined Hauberk.

  “Are you going to be home this weekend?” Her voice got louder, as if she’d followed him. “I’m thinking of flying up to see you.”

  His chin dropped to his chest. So she was leaving.

  “I want you to meet my fiancé.”

  Her fiancé? Troy whirled to face her, forgetting the wound in his thigh. Ignoring the holy-fucking-crap-that-hurt pain that bloomed in his thigh, he grabbed Sandy’s shoulders. “You want to marry me?”

  “Yeah.” She nodded, letting the phone drop to the couch, her mother still talking. “Yeah. I do.”

  He picked up the phone and put it to his own ear. “She’ll call you later with all the details, Mrs. Hallquist.”

  He clicked off the phone and tossed it back on the cushions. Cushions that hadn’t been there yesterday. Cushions that yesterday had been on the couch at her place. The very same couch that was now right here in his living room. “Where did this come from?”

  He glanced around and realized the room now contained a lot of furniture and knickknacks that yesterday had been in her apartment. She’d moved in.

  “That’s why I couldn’t meet you at the hospital this morning. Andy and Sam and Rosie and Chad and oh, everyone, helped me move my stuff over here.” She cradled his jaw in her palm. “I love you, Troy. I don’t care whether we live here in D.C. or in London or in a room at the Rouge. I want you in my life forever too.”

  The anvil parked on his chest shifted but it didn’t drop completely. “You’re not going to change your mind about this?”

  She slowly shook her head. “No. I’m not.”

  Her tone was sure and steady, her face clear of any type of guile. “Do you realize how long forever is?”

  He closed his eyes when she reached up on tiptoes and brushed her lips across his. “I do—and it won’t be long enough.”

  His crutches fell to the floor with a clatter, or maybe it was that damned anvil that had been squeezing all the air from his lungs. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her flush against him. “It’s about time you figured that out, Miss Hallquist.”