Even after the long hours and many visits, Jo tensed as she approached the curtained unit. Deke lay unmoving, the upper half of his face and head swathed in bandages. He was breathing on his own, but a frightening array of tubes and wires linked him to monitors and IVs. One machine sounded a rhythmic click-click. Another hummed softly in counterpoint.
There were no chairs in the cubicle, but one of the nurses had rolled in a stool during Jo's last visit. Sinking down on legs rubbery from fatigue, she folded one arm on the bed rail and slipped her other hand through the supports.
"Hey, cowboy," she murmured, her fingers entwining with his. "It's still snowing out, in case you're interested. Colonel Marshall said earlier that we've shut down operations except for alert and emergency responses."
Her thumb brushed the back of his hand and wrist, gently, carefully, avoiding the IV inserted in his vein.
"Did I tell you how much I like your mother? Yeah, I think I did. She and my mom have really hit it off, by the way. They've already compared kids' ages and hours in labor birthing each one."
Propping her chin on her forearm, Jo let her lids drift down over sandpapery eyes for a moment.
"Jack—he's my next youngest brother. He was here to see you a little while ago. Jack says our mom wins the number of kids contest, but yours definitely gets the award for the longest labor. Thirty-six hours, big guy? How could you do that to your poor mother?"
She whispered whatever came into her head. There wasn't any logic to it. Only the need to maintain the fragile bond of touch and speech.
The life-support equipment pinged a soft medley in the background. Light from the nurses' station slanted across the observation area, falling just short of the bed. In the dark shadows, Jo brushed her thumb back and forth.
She had no idea when she drifted off, no idea how long she'd dozed when something woke her. Confused, she lifted her head and looked around with gritty eyes for a nurse or a relative.
Only after several dazed seconds did she realize that Deke had squeezed her fingers. So faintly she hadn't registered the pressure at first.
"Deke?" she whispered, her heart slamming against her ribs.
She didn't breathe, didn't move. Her fingers taut in his, she waited, prayed, for another faint press. "Deke? Can you hear me?"
"I... hear you."
A sob tore at her throat. Jo forced it back, fought to keep from crunching his fingers with hers and shouting her delirious joy out loud.
"You... okay?" he rasped.
"Me?" she squeaked.
He was lying blind and immobile, and he asked about her injuries instead of his own?
"I'm fine. A few scrapes and bruises, but nothing serious."
Beneath the thick bandages, his mouth curved. "Hell of... a landing... Wonder Woman."
Oh, God! She could have held out against anything except that weak, wonderful grin. The sob she'd choked back a few seconds ago ripped free. Hot tears stung her eyes.
"It wasn't one of my best," she croaked through a tight, aching throat. "But it got us both down in one piece."
His fingers twitched. The quiver was so slight, she almost missed it in her teary, sniffling joy. "One... piece?"
"Pretty much." She wouldn't lie to him. "You took a hit when the blades flexed and sliced through the canopy."
"How bad a... hit?"
"We don't know. They'll run more tests now that you're awake."
With infinite care, she brought the back of his hand up to her cheek.
"Your mom's here. So are my folks. And my brothers."
"All of...them?"
Under his mask of bandages, he managed to project the wariness of any male about to be confronted by several very large, very protective siblings of the woman who'd almost gone down in flames with him.
"All of them," she confirmed with a hiccup of shaky laughter. "Tom's one of the best neurosurgeons in the country. He's consulting with your doctors."
She hated to leave him, hated to release his hand, but she knew his mother would want to know he'd awakened, as would the medical staff.
"I better tell them you're awake."
"Not... yet." He drew in a slow breath. "Taylor?"
"He's dead."
When he didn't respond a frisson of worry feathered through her joy.
"Remember, Deke? Right before we ran to the Sikorsky? He fired at you, and you knifed him." She leaned over the bed rail, urging him to remember. "I played right into his hands by taking the Sikorsky up. He had it rigged and waiting for us."
"Bas... tard."
"Ambruzzo theorizes that Alex would have had a ready explanation for our deaths. The chopper was still in my name. Maybe he'd assert that I'd come down to Chestnut Hill to claim it, that the ice storm brought us down."
Deke lay silent. Her heart wrenching, Jo wished she could see his eyes, wished she could gauge how much he recalled. All her fears, all her bitter regret at dragging him into Alex's twisted orbit, rose up to choke her. If she'd had any energy to spare at that moment, she would have hated Alex all over again. But every thought, every emotion centered on Deke. Only Deke.
His fingers flexed, stronger now. With a little grunt that sent her pulse spiking, he tugged her forward.
"Nothing can... bring us... down, West."
She leaned over the rails, her mouth a whisper from his, her heart pulsing with joy, with hope, with love.
"You got that right, Elliot."
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Lovelace, Merline Page 23
