by J. L. Drake
“You should think about leaving,” he says without missing a beat.
That sucks the wind right out of me. I turn on my heel and make my way down the stairs to the grass. I don’t want to go back inside and face everyone. If this is what’s going on, maybe he isn’t the only one who feels I’m jeopardizing this place. I head for the boathouse with heavy feet. I feel off balance. I collapse on a chair, trying to fight off the nausea. Jesus, what did I eat? I open and close my eyes. Everything is shifting to the right. I move my hand in front of me, and it blurs in its path like a rainbow. I flop forward on all fours, heaving, my stomach wrenching. I lay my cheek to the cool wood, staring out at the water, and watch the curtain of rain traveling toward me. The raindrops bounce off my face, freeing me of my sweaty forehead and feeling very cool.
They don’t know who The American is? Just that he’ll be looking under every rock in the U.S. until he finds me? Wow, I’m royally fucked. How, or rather why, is this happening to me? Oh, God, what if I ruin all this for the Logans? Three generations, and they’ve saved countless lives. I lean forward, emptying my stomach again. I feel miserable. I flop back down on the deck; I don’t have the strength to do anything else. My clothes are drenched, but I don’t notice anything but the violent pain in my stomach. Oh, no! I roll and continue the horrible act of emptying my stomach, though there can’t be anything left in there. I close my eyes and promise myself I’ll speak with Cole about leaving.
“Savannah?” I hear Keith call through the rain. “What are you doing?”
I don’t move. I barely find my voice.
“Need a minute.”
“Can I get you out of the rain—” He drops in front of me, the brim of his hat streaming with water. “Jesus, Savi, you look horrible.” He reaches out to take my wrist and checks my pulse. I hear his rain jacket squeak as he mutters something into his radio. I can’t make it out; things are going gray. “I need to get you inside.”
I push away his hand, letting mine fall in front of him with a smack. I feel like I’m heavy as lead. There is no way he is going to move me. If he did, I think I might black out from the motion.
“No,” I whisper, concentrating on a rock. I need something to focus on that isn’t moving. He watches me for a moment, then stands. Oh, good. Please leave me be.
Chapter Seven
Cole
Cole is sipping a brandy, listening to John tell a story about a flat tire he got while coming back into the U.S. from a snatch and grab in Mexico, when Mark catches his attention. He waves him into the kitchen and follows, only to find him looking distraught.
“Keith needs to speak with you,” Mark says, handing him his radio. Cole looks at him curiously. Mark is on duty tonight, but if Keith requested him, it must be important. “You need to take this.”
“Raven One to Beta Seven.”
“Raven One, you need to come to the boat house. I have a situation.”
“Be right there.” Mark is already handing him a raincoat, a worried expression on his face.
He jogs down the lawn over the sopping grass, his boots sinking in, making it slippery. Keith stops him a few yards from the boat house.
“It’s Savannah.” Cole’s stomach sinks. “I found her lying on the deck of the boat house. She looks really sick, and her pulse is racing. She won’t let me move her. I didn’t want to force her.” He gives Cole a look; they all know better than to force things with their “guests.” Victims of kidnapping are to be handled with kid gloves. “I just thought she’d respond better to you.” Keith grips his arm as he comes closer. “Cole, she doesn’t look good.”
“Take me to her.” Cole follows him around the corner to where a drenched, lethargic Savannah lies on the deck floor. Delta Six is holding an umbrella over her head. Cole’s heart sinks as he rushes to her side and drops to his knees, shocked at how pale she is. He checks her pulse; it is racing.
“Hey, Savi.” He tries to remain calm and notices her eyes never shift from the horizon. “Why are you out here?”
“Tell Cole I’ll leave,” she barely whispers. Leave? He glances up at Keith, who gives a grim nod—she is clearly out of it. He bends down to get a good look at her pupils and finds them dilated.
He gives Keith the sign to call the doctor. “Code one, Keith.”
Keith quickly calls it in.
She moans and holds her stomach.
“Savannah, why would you leave?” He tries to distract her as she retches again.
“The American—his name is connected with mine—he doesn’t lose hostages.”
What the hell? How does she know this? What she’s saying is classified information.
“I need to leave before—” Her words are slurring, and her eyes look heavy. “Tell Cole not to worry. I’ll leave.”
Over his dead body will this woman be leaving the safety of his house.
“I’m going to pick you up now, Savi.”
“No,” she whimpers, trying to push him away. “Sick.” He ignores her protests and cradles her to him. She is so exhausted her body is like mush against his.
“Keith,” he calls over his shoulder, “my entrance.”
Keith runs ahead and opens a side door reserved for Cole only. It is a direct route to his room.
Once they are out of the rain and in the back hallway, he turns to Keith. “Go get Abigail, and don’t mention a word of this to anyone. Call in someone to replace you tonight, get dried off, and meet me back in my room.”
Keith nods then glances at Savannah before he leaves.
Cole is happy it was Keith who found her and not one of the other guys. They might have moved her, thinking it was for the best.
He opens the door to his bedroom and places her on his bed. She grips his jacket, and he stills.
Her eyes are closed, and he knows she is barely hanging on. She moans and lets go of him and clutches her stomach, and he grabs a small garbage can.
Wow, she’s really sick.
“Oh, my goodness, Savannah.” Abigail comes rushing in his room with a homemade medical bag, then pulls out a thermometer and sticks it in Savannah’s ear.
Savannah moans again and tucks her knees to her stomach, her breathing growing shallow.
“No fever. Cole, should we move her to her bedroom?”
“No, this situation stays here until we know what’s making her sick.”
“The doctor should be here any minute,” Keith chimes in.
“Okay, boys, give me five minutes so I can get her into something dry, please.”
Cole pulls out a black t-shirt and hands it to Abigail before walking into the private hallway with Keith.
“I want you to keep this whole thing quiet for now, Keith.”
“Of course.”
“Did she say anything to you?”
“She kept saying she needed to leave.” He shakes his head. “She was talking to someone earlier, but I couldn’t see from my post. It got heated with whoever it was—she caught my attention when she shouted. I watched her leave the deck and walk down to the boat house. She stumbled as she reached the chair. I thought perhaps she had too much to drink, so I let her be. But then she fell forward and collapsed on the deck. By the time I got there, she was vomiting hard and was white as a ghost. I’m sorry I didn’t move her, but—”
“No, you did the right thing.” Cole thinks for a moment. “I want to know who she was talking to, and if you hear anything at all, I want to know about it immediately.” Who would have opened their fucking mouth?
“Of course.” Keith disappears down the hallway.
“When did the symptoms begin? Did anyone notice?” the doctor asks, his expression serious.
“She was fine when I brought her lunch at noon. She said she was just tired.” Abigail looks pale.
“She seemed fine when she came to talk to me around eleven,” Cole adds, wracking his brain, trying to remember if she seemed different. “At dinner, she seemed fine too. She ate a little.”
“
Anything to drink? Alcohol?”
“No, she’s not a big drinker,” Cole says, crossing his arms.
The doctor draws her blood then tucks it carefully into his bag.
“Do you think it’s the flu?” Abigail asks impatiently.
“No, I don’t think so. If I was to guess, I’d say she either has food poisoning or she ingested another type of poison.” Abigail gasps as Cole balls his hands into fists and tucks them tightly against his sides.
“No one else is sick.” Abigail looks horrified. “We all ate the same thing. I made dinner.”
Cole squeezes her shoulders. He would never think anything but the best of Abigail.
“Then perhaps something she drank.” The doctor slides the IV into the top of her wrist. “Someone could have slipped something in it.”
Savannah moans quietly as the needle pokes her skin.
“It’s all right, sweetheart. This will keep you hydrated.” Cole fights the urge to comfort her.
The doctor looks up at Cole. “Do you have any bottled water that hasn’t been opened?”
“Yes.” He moves swiftly to his mini fridge and hands him one. He watches as the doctor measures out a tablespoon of charcoal into eight ounces of water.
“In,” the doctor checks his watch, “fifteen minutes, the anti-emetic shot I gave her for vomiting should kick in. Get her to drink all of this.” He stands and places the bottle on the table. “I’m going to get this blood to the lab. She’s stable for now, but if she gets worse before I return, call me immediately.”
“How long until the results come in, Dr. Rice?” Abigail moves to Savannah’s side and rubs her arm gently.
“First priority, Doc.” Cole gives him a look from across the room.
“Always, Logan. I should know in a few hours.”
“Use my private cell.” Cole doesn’t want to risk anything being overheard. There are too many unanswered questions.
Abigail walks the doctor out the back way.
Cole sits in a chair and watches her sleep. She looks tiny in his king size bed. He tries in vain to push the awful thoughts of ‘What if?’ aside. What if no one saw her down there? What if…
He’s seen people in a lot worse shape, but with Savannah, it’s different. Every part of him wants to lie down next to her, breathe her in, and hold her tight. He wants to bring her the comfort she deserves. He rubs his face, leaning back in the chair. He checks his watch and grabs the glass.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, he gently moves her hair out of her face. “Savannah,” he says softly, making her stir. “Open your eyes for me.”
She moans as she tries to open them.
“Here, drink this. It will help your stomach.” Her mouth opens slightly. He slips the straw between her lips and talks her through drinking the whole thing. “Good job. Now you can sleep.”
She doesn’t move after that.
A knock at the back door brings Cole to his feet. He opens it to find Keith holding a bottle of brandy and two glasses.
“Thought you might need one.” Keith shrugs as he steps into the room. “What did the doctor say?”
“Possibly poison. Results should be back soon.”
Keith looks shocked and hands him a glass.
“What did you find out?”
“York spoke to her.” Keith makes a face as Cole’s expression hardens.
Cole takes a long sip, trying to control his anger.
“He was explaining to her that she needs to remember everything about The American. He’s pissed at you—”
“He’s pissed at me?” Cole shouts. They both glance at Savannah, who stirs.
“Yes, he says we shouldn’t have taken her back here. That WPP is a better choice.” Keith holds up his hand, stopping him from his rant about the WPP. “That’s all I know. Either way, he was straight with me when I asked, giving me the information. He didn’t seem to be hiding anything. I told him you wanted him to take my post tonight.” Keith grins. “He wasn’t pleased, but he went.”
“I bet,” Cole hisses, sipping his drink. They sit in silence for a little while and listen to the rain beat against the window.
“Cole?” Abigail’s voice comes from the doorway. Neither man heard the door open. “Dr. Rice is here.”
Cole glances at his watch, stunned to see three hours have elapsed. “Hi, Doc. You didn’t call my cell?”
Dr. Rice checks Savannah’s vital signs, and everything seems to be all right. “I decided to come over and give you the news directly.” He removes the IV.
Cole is quietly going mad while the doc checks her over again.
“It was tetrahydrozoline poisoning.”
“What?” Abigail turns to Cole for clarification.
“Eye drops,” Cole answers. “Every man carries a bottle. The elements are rough on the eyes. How much was in her system?”
“Enough,” the doctor says.
Suddenly, a dark feeling comes over Cole, and he grips the back of his chair. “Dr. Rice,” Cole’s voice is low, “I need you to remove the test results from your database right now.”
“Of course. I’ll call the lab immediately.” He slips out into the hall.
“What are you thinking?” Keith asks.
“I don’t know, but I don’t like this, and I think we should keep any details about what has happened under wraps.” Cole downs his drink in one swallow.
“I don’t understand, Cole.” Abigail crosses her arms. “How could she possibly have been poisoned? None of our boys would do this.”
“I don’t want to go there either, but someone did do it. She wouldn’t have done it to herself.”
“Why erase it from the database?” Keith asks, confused.
“If they run the lab and it goes into the database, it’s a pretty unusual poisoning. It might stand out, and we don’t need anyone taking an interest. I just hope the lab didn’t enter it online yet.”
“Oh, dear!” Both men look at Abigail. “She likes the lemonade I make. I made her a large batch yesterday morning, and it sat in the fridge all day. So, anyone could have spiked it at any time.”
Cole lets out a long breath and turns to Keith.
“Check the video surveillance footage. Let’s see what we come up with.”
Keith squeezes Savannah’s hand then leaves.
“Abigail, could you bring me some of that lemonade, please? I’d like to take it in for testing,” Dr. Rice asks from behind them. “Cole, I’ll be back tomorrow to check on her. She should recover just fine. We caught it early, and she didn’t ingest enough to—” He pauses, seeing Cole’s expression. “She just needs rest.”
Cole plops down on his chair with a sigh. This whole situation seems surreal. The mere idea that one of his trusted men could betray him makes him sick. Loyalty is essential in this business. He’ll have to fill his father in on all this immediately. He really needs the old man’s advice.
He wonders how to deal with York. What in the hell was he thinking, opening his mouth to Savannah about anything? She doesn’t need to know that her life is never going to be what it was, that she probably will never be able to go back, especially not with what he suspects is going on.
He downs another ounce of brandy, hoping to take the edge off, then leans back and glances at the clock. 3:50 a.m. He finally puts on dry clothes then collapses back into his chair, unwilling to leave Savannah in case she wakes. He is exhausted as well…
“No-no-please.”
Her words make Cole’s eyes pop open, and he lifts his head to see her twitching.
“No more! I’m sorry.”
He jumps to his feet and moves to the bed. “Savannah,” he whispers, “wake up.”
“Nooo.”
He shakes her softly until her eyes finally open.
She looks up, startled. Her chest is heaving, and tears trickle down her cheeks.
“You were dreaming,” he says. “You’re safe.”
She shakes her head slowly as she falls back to sleep. “
Don’t leave,” she mutters, moving her hand on top of his.
“I won’t. I promise.” He kicks off his boots, not caring about whether it’s right, and climbs in next to her. He leans his back against the leather headboard and holds her hand as she sleeps. Yup, he is putty in her hands for sure. Shit.
“You smell like him,” she murmurs, still mostly asleep.
“Smell like who?”
“Cole.”
He feels his heart speed up then lets out a chuckle. He knows it’s wrong, taking advantage of her in the state she is in, but who is he kidding?
“Is that a good thing?”
She sighs. “Very.”
Okay, he’s in. He’s about to toss all his chips on the table. She needs to be his. Now that he has confirmation that she is interested in him, his guard drops. The overwhelming protective instinct he has been experiencing since she arrived crash down around him like a landslide. Yup, he has officially fallen head over heels for this woman, and it scares him half to death.
The smell of apples fills his senses. Its intoxicating warmth spreads down to his toes. He is thoroughly enjoying this half-awake, half-asleep time next to her—until he hears someone clear their throat. His eyes flutter open to a grinning Abigail.
“Morning.” She beams, her eyes shifting from him to his side.
He rubs his eyes then looks down at Savannah tucked into him. He isn’t sure exactly where to go with this and gives Abigail a silly grin. His brain takes a moment to remember all the details of the night before.
“I’ll just leave your breakfast here.” As she places the tray on the table, he notices there are two servings. “I’ll be sure not to let anyone bother you this morning.”
“Abby—” he mumbles, trying to make his brain function properly.
“No, no.” She holds up her hands and walks backward toward the door. “Just stay put.” She continues to grin widely.
Oh, thank God it was Abigail. He knows he can trust her to keep his confidence. Well, actually, who is he kidding? He shakes his head. No doubt she’s calling his mother right now, filling her in on all the details.
