by Billi Jean
“Okay, thank you.”
“Yeah,” James said, tipping his glasses up his nose. “Yeah, okay, well, I’m there if you need me.”
She nodded and sat carefully on the bed next to David. All she needed was right here. David, but awake.
His leg was only wrapped with a bit of gauze and some padding, so she could clearly see the blood, and whatever the yellowish-orange gunk was that was seeping through. She ignored that and adjusted his covers, then felt his forehead. He was warm, but not too hot.
Suddenly she realized this was the first time, ever, she’d been awake and he wasn’t. She knew he sometimes stayed awake when she slept, mostly because she could feel him rubbing her shoulders as she fell asleep, but this was her first time to be here, with him, when he wasn’t awake.
For some reason, that made her smile and freak out at the same time.
David was a big personality. Asleep he was…still David, but it was as if he was frozen in time, inactive, or something. She smiled at the thought and got a tissue from the hospital table next to the bed and cleaned his face. He’d shaved just this morning, but already golden whiskers lined his jaw and chin. There was a slight crease above his nose, as if he was frowning even in his sleep. He also had fine lines around his eyes from laughing. Probably at me so much. She kissed them.
“You know, you are so interesting, even sleeping you fascinate me. I bet you know that, though,” she whispered. She could just imagine him as an old man, like her uncle, fit, funny and full of himself. She laughed and curled up to rest her head on his shoulder, careful not to jostle him. “Maybe everything will be okay.”
Chapter Nineteen
The sound of crashing glass and instruments hitting tiles hovered just out of David’s reach. He knew something was wrong, but couldn’t connect the sounds to meaning. He fought his way out of sleep, but got swept up in a memory from Afghanistan. He knew it was in the past, but the whirl of the blades dimmed the sounds he was trying to make sense of to the point that he thought he felt the sharp impact of metal to body he’d experienced on that mission.
“David!”
Paris. Her voice came in like that remembered bullet, quick, and with a snap jerked him upward, only to get tangled in something or someone. It wasn’t Paris. He grabbed a man’s arm and tossed him bodily over the bed. The move gained him enough space to clear his head of the last reside of sleep. He spotted Paris and the breath froze in his throat.
A man in a ski mask was dragging her toward the door. She fought to get free, kicking and sending broken glass everywhere. The man holding her had a hand over her mouth, but met David’s eyes with a steadiness that promised she had seconds to live. The surety of it was there in his hard gaze. All the man had to do was wrap an arm around her neck and squeeze.
That isn’t happening.
Another man edged toward him from where he’d thrown him to the floor. If not for Paris’ yell David knew he’d never have been given this chance. A dream can’t be taken away like this.
Save her.
He tore the IV out of his arm and barely dodged a knife from impacting with his chest. He twisted his body toward his opponent, caught his arms in a wrestler hold and wrapped the IV cord around his neck as quickly as he could. The bastard was a strong motherfucker, but David wasn’t letting go. The drug from surgery weighed him down, making him slower, but the panic to reach Paris gave him what he needed.
With a crash they hit the floor. His leg shot agony up his spine, but he wrapped both legs around the guy’s waist and tightened before he lost the advantage. If he reached his feet, David would be dead. At the thought, David strained harder to break the man’s neck.
“Close your eyes, Paris!”
He didn’t check that she did. For some reason he’d been given this chance, and he couldn’t lose it. David tightened the IV tubing. It stretched to the point he worried it would snap. He wasn’t chancing that. He strained harder. A crunch sounded and David shoved the dead weight off and dove for the knife that had landed on the floor.
The man with Paris dropped her and pulled a gun. Paris half crawled, half ran to his side, head down and clearly terrified, but alive. David shoved her to his left, near the wall and half behind him, but kept his focus on the gun, waiting for the bullet to hit his chest. The knife would do him no good, but for some reason the man hesitated. Then, loud and clear, two shots sounded in close repetition. Neither ripped through David, or more importantly, Paris.
The guy with his gun up and ready, grunted. Slowly, a red spot colored the black leather at his left shoulder, while another appeared at his stomach. In slow motion, he toppled face forward onto the tile.
Sonya appeared behind where he’d stood, Cody at her side, his firearm still up and ready.
Shouts sounded, and a second later, the intern from earlier showed up, breathless, behind them.
David shut them out and reached over to where a terrified Paris was sitting with her knees to her chest, eyes glazed. Her hands trembled so badly he had to ease her grip on her legs slowly. He was shocked to his soles to see his own hand shaking.
“Paris,” he breathed, and as gently as he could he gathered her to him. She was shaking, and by her too wide gray eyes and pale face, clearly in shock.
“Get a doctor in here, now! No phone calls, no police, lock this wing down,” Sonya ordered.
Cody walked off, but David heard him saying, “We made it, he’s clear. Paris is fine as well, repeat, both are good. Two men down.”
The words registered, but it was as if the Ranger stood a flight deck away from him instead of out in the hall. Paris filled every inch of his heart and mind.
“Paris, come here, give me my phone.” He kept his voice lower for her, but no less direct. At the tone, she blinked and blinked again, seeming to register his face. Her eyes shimmered, but she nodded right when he would have said it again. He needed her to snap out of it. She kept nodding as she turned on her knees and pulled the phone out of her purse. He sat up taller, wincing as his leg shot a dose of agony up his spine.
“Get me off the floor,” he growled to the intern.
Cody came back in, and both of them eased him to his feet. He nodded to the crutch, but Paris stopped them from handing it to him.
“No! Don’t, please, don’t, you just had surgery—”
“Princess, this kind of thing trumps surgery and doctor’s orders,” he began.
“No,” she cried then drew in a ragged breath. “If you walk on it too soon, who will keep me safe?”
That tore his gut. Who would keep her safe? He thought she was safe. No one had thought she wouldn’t be. They were in a hospital that had been locked down for them, with a doctor flown in for this surgery. This was supposed to be safe. Where could he take her that Savage couldn’t find her?
“Jansen, she’s right, this was a last-minute catch.” Cody helped him down on the bed. He sat and immediately Paris was there.
“You need to get to one hundred percent, and walking on that isn’t going to help,” Sonya added.
David nearly tore into Sonya for the understatement.
Paris pressed into his good side, stroking his arm. He could feel her trembling. He put the gun on the bed and pulled her close.
“It’s okay, Paris. You did good, and we’ll be out of here real soon.” Where, he didn’t know, but if they had to move to Siberia, so be it.
She nodded and tightened her hand on his.
“How’d they get by you?” he demanded.
Cody winced and shook his head. “We only saw them from a camera on the stairs. They arrived with an air rescue, posing as family members to the patient on board. They had the right forms, and the patient was in critical condition. Still is, too.”
David nodded as if the excuses were good enough. Savage was a mastermind at fitting in and getting by security, but he’d not only found where David lived, but where his surgery was being performed. He could have killed David on the table and taken Paris at any tim
e.
“Did you secure the floor?” He could deal with missions gone wrong and how to clean up, but Paris, and her frightened gray eyes, he couldn’t handle right now. He’d say the wrong thing, or do the wrong thing for certain, because all he wanted to do was rage at the world for bringing any of this close enough to touch her.
“The entire wing is secure,” Sonya muttered, walking over and examining one of the two men. She kicked the one he’d taken care of over onto his back.
David grimaced and turned Paris’ head away to rest on his shoulder.
“No one is here but patients and nurses. Even family members are limited right now,” Cody growled. “So that tells us what? This bastard played us.”
David nodded. “Get me the head of security,” he said. “And I’ll need something to drink, coffee, Red Bull would be better. Sonya, hit the hall while I get dressed. Paris, get my clothes and no worrying, I’ll stay off it as long as I need to, but I need my pants on.”
Sonya had the balls to laugh. “Men are like that. I once hit my mark because he was too busy trying to button his jeans.”
“Sweetheart, I could have lived a long time without that information,” Cody said, ushering Sonya, the intern and everyone outside his doorway away. The door shut and as soon as it did, David kissed Paris gently. She cried within seconds, silent tears that ripped him up, but he took it because he had caused them. His life was too dangerous. Maybe he wasn’t the best thing for her. Not if he endangered her.
“Paris,” he murmured, and pulled away to brush her cheeks off. More tears followed. “Maybe we should move you somewhere else until I can deal with—”
“Don’t you dare!” She jerked out of his arms.
“That man almost killed you.” He pointed to the dead man on the floor. “I can’t let that happen. That means I have to go do some clean-up—”
She shoved his shoulder, stopping him that easily from getting off the bed because it startled the hell out of him how hard she’d pushed. Damn, she is strong.
Immediately she gasped and covered her mouth. “Oh, God, did I hurt you?”
He didn’t answer soon enough for her, because she snapped her hands down on her hips and got right back on her scolding campaign.
“I am not leaving your side. I love you and you promised me forever, remember? That doesn’t include leaving me every chance some mission, or someone needing to be taken care of, sneaks up on us, remember?”
Hell, this had to be hell. How had Tazz dealt with having Kristen near Duke? Or any of the men he knew that now had women they loved?
There were two dead men on the floor. His leg was bleeding steadily where he’d ripped the stitches in his struggle. Paris had a bruise on her jaw, and her tiny body trembled—with anger, sure, but the fear was there as well.
He’d do what he’d been trained to do—protect. Only now, he’d protect what was more valuable to him than any damn thing he’d ever been given. Her heart.
He took her by the hand and coaxed her back in his arms.
“You’re right, I did,” he said roughly, and kissed her right. She melted against him and wrapped her arms around his neck, tightly, as she had when he’d shown up at Duke’s to get her out of that room.
Love was an odd thing. With Paris it had swelled up from the first with a tender feeling that had soon turned to possessiveness, then grief at her loss. Now, it was a steady, bright light that blossomed in his heart and soul. Someday, maybe, he’d tell her that, but right now, he wasn’t letting her go or breaking his promises.
Before things got out of hand, he broke the kiss. She stared at him breathlessly, and must have seen what she wanted on his face because her slight frown turned to the smile he was never going to grow tired of.
“I love you, David Jansen. Now, I’ll give you your pants.”
“Damn,” he muttered, and squeezed her ass with both hands. “I was kinda hoping you’d give me—”
“David Jansen!”
He laughed, feeling the terror of the moment slipping away. He had her, she was here, and if he had to move them to Siberia, he’d do it. First, he needed to get dressed, and he needed to call Carson.
“All right, but later, huh?” he teased, kissing her pink lips once more. He also rubbed his thumbs under her eyes to gently erase her tears then kissed her there, too. “No more tears.”
“No more,” she promised.
He let her go and watched her hunt through his bag for the sweatpants. She straightened and frowned at him. “What is this?”
A laugh burst free, followed by another, until he was holding his stomach.
She lifted a delicate eyebrow and tilted her head. “Was this for me?”
He laughed harder. “It sure the hell wasn’t for another woman. You’re about all I can handle, princess.”
“Good,” she huffed, and gave the little butt toy a curious glance. “Although, those things would probably be better for you, you know? Men have more nerves down there—”
“Not a chance,” he growled, but grinned when she hid the toy and gave him a calculating look. “Now, help me get my pants on.”
By the time they were done, he was sweating from the pain. Paris kept quiet, but he knew she knew. She’d rewrapped his leg with steady hands and hadn’t commented on the mess he’d made of it except to say he needed to get the stitches redone. She also hadn’t said a word about the two dead men.
“Let’s get Sonya and her man back in here.”
“She’s the agent you told me about?” Paris asked quietly, tucking the collar of his shirt down.
“Yeah, she is.” The Adidas sweatpants weren’t made to be rolled up and were already sliding down his leg, adding a warmth to the already hot wound, but focused on Paris. “She’s good at what she does. So is Cody. Let them back in and we clean this mess up, okay?”
“Okay, but no more talk of leaving me behind again,” she stressed.
He nodded, not able to voice that promise. She noticed, he thought, but didn’t stress the point.
He called Carson. The man picked up on the first ring.
“We have a situation.”
“I know. Petrok called it in. Aren’t you still supposed to be under?”
David checked the time. He was up early, but only by an hour. “I’m an hour ahead.”
“Chung’s drug?”
“I have no idea.”
“You know the men?” Carson asked, moving back to what was important.
Paris opened the door and Cody came in first, followed by Sonya. David spotted three more of their men outside, all armed.
“Do we know these guys?” he asked.
Sonya crouched next to the man she’d shot. “He’s a hired hit. He usually goes for less dangerous kills, though.”
“We need to discuss where to move Paris,” Carson said. Paris heard, since he’d put Carson on speaker. She glared at the phone.
“I’d say both need to go under. Deep,” Cody said. “She needs protection and Jansen is her best bet.”
“I agree. No separating,” Sonya said. “He’d be of no use to us without her anyway, you should have caught that the last time he drank himself into oblivion.”
Carson grumbled something about lovesick pups. Paris raised her eyebrows at the reference to him drinking too much.
He squeezed her hand. “What are your thoughts on Siberia?” David asked, only half teasing.
Cody laughed. “Paris, I’m Cody Johnson, and this is my soon-to-be wife, Sonya Petrok. We helped this guy find you when he forgot to ask your last name.”
“Name? He didn’t even get her number or what country she lived in,” Sonya added.
“Thank you,” Paris said quietly, blushing to her roots.
“Now that the introductions are out of the way, what about man number two?” David asked.
“Oh, that wasn’t introductions, Jansen. I’ll get her alone for those.” Sonya laughed but walked over to the man David had killed and crouched over him. “Well, now, this
is another ball game completely.”
“What does that mean?” he demanded.
Cody settled his arms over his chest and gave him the calm down stare. David ignored him.
“This man is from a higher pay grade. You earned yourself a presidential kill, Jansen. Just what have you done?”
“Me? What the hell are you talking about?”
“This kind of killer isn’t stupid, but he must have thought you were easy game. He works alone, too.”
“Who is he?” Carson asked.
“He’s just known as Mr. Smith,” she muttered. “An assassin. But I’d heard he was dead,” she added, nudging the man’s face to the side and back.
David exchanged a glance with Cody.
“And?” Cody murmured, walking over to her side.
“And, he’s used to take out heads of state, rulers, key players, so—”
“What’s he doing here?” David asked when she stopped.
“That’s a good question. There were rumors for a while that Smith was from the same unit as Savage, but that’s never been confirmed.”
“So Savage knows where I live. And my schedule?”
“It seems so,” Carson supplied when Sonya merely stared at the man on the floor and Cody shifted uncomfortably. “Will’s team has uncovered a spiderweb of intel, all on the Sentinels. Someone inside, I’m hoping Walters, but don’t bet the farm on it, was drawing bank on our secrets.”
David clenched his jaw at the implications. “And when was I going to be told—?”
“We just found out,” Carson said. “You were in surgery, that’s why Petrok is there heading the team.”
David tightened his grip on Paris. This meant they would have to go deep undercover. New names, new looks, everything wiped clean. “So now we move out? Does Will have a local on Savage?”
Carson muttered, “Will—”
“Doesn’t need one,” Sonya said, and yanked something off the dead man’s neck, then quickly shoved the guy’s left shirt sleeve up to reveal a bluish-green tattoo. After that she grew so quiet he wanted to shake her. Almost appearing in a daze, she stood and turned to face them with an amazed expression.
