With his forehead rested against hers, he uttered the words she longed to hear but never dreamed she would. “I love you, Aine.”
She kissed him the same way he had her, holding him tight to her and vowing silently never to let him go.
The door opened, and Striker ended their kiss, but the spell between them remained solidly in place like his hand gripping hers.
“Good morning, lovebirds,” said the nurse Aine recognized from the afternoon before, but couldn’t remember her name.
“I’m Elizabeth,” she said in a South African accent, erasing Paula’s name from the board and adding hers back in its place.
Maybe it was the voice Aine remembered more than the face.
“Ken will be working with me today. He’s next door, but he’ll come over shortly and take you for your first walk of the day. The more you walk, the sooner you can go home.”
Elizabeth set the same laptop Paula had used the night before on the bedside tray. She checked the monitors, pounding her thick fingers on the keyboard. She moved the blanket and sheet away, checked the incision, and then put her hands on her hips. “How badly do you want to go home for Thanksgiving?”
“Will I be able to?”
The nurse slid a piece of paper toward her. “If you can check off each of the milestones on this list, you will.”
Aine studied the paper. All but one seemed surmountable. No seizure was the only thing out of her control.
She looked up at Griffin, who was reading over her shoulder.
“You can do it,” he whispered.
“The doctor will be in shortly. Start working on that list,” Elizabeth said before leaving the room.
“It says you have to eat,” Griffin told her, picking up the room’s phone. “What sounds good this morning?”
Aine rattled off most of the breakfast menu.
“You’re hungry.”
“Starving,” she said, wondering if he knew her hunger had nothing to do with food. She craved Griffin’s naked body next to hers. Only that could satiate her.
He leaned forward and kissed her. “Let’s get you out of here.”
When the door opened again, Aine expected the doctor but saw Sam in her sister’s arms instead.
“Oh, sweet boy,” she cried, so happy to see her nephew.
“I had a battle with a South African Amazon over bringing him in here, but I won out.”
Aine shook her head and scooted over so Ava could sit on the bedside. “You can’t hold him. That’s the caveat.”
Sam, who usually reached for her immediately, stayed on his mother’s lap without fussing, as if he knew he might hurt his aunt if he didn’t.
“I miss you, baby boy,” she said, leaning forward to kiss his cheek.
Sam gripped her neck and brought his sweet little mouth to her cheek too.
“He misses you more.”
Aine looked up at Griffin. The look on his face was the same as it had been before he opened his eyes earlier—peace and contentment.
“Tabon’s outside,” Ava said to him. “He asked me to send you out.”
“He can come in,” Aine told her.
“It’s okay. I’ll be right back.” Griffin leaned forward and kissed her cheek. When he did, Sam reached for him. He leaned closer, and the baby touched his cheeks with his lips like he had Aine.
“Oh,” she sighed. “That is so sweet. Sam gave you a kiss.”
—:—
Striker’s face was wet with baby drool, but he didn’t wipe it away until he was through the door and out in the hallway. He saw Razor a few feet away, on the phone, and he didn’t look happy.
“What’s up?” he asked when the man turned and saw him waiting.
“I’m sorry to do this now, but we need to go back to the house.”
“Okay,” he said, studying Razor’s face. Whatever it was, was important. “Let me tell Aine.”
Razor nodded. Behind him, though, Striker saw the doctor approaching.
“I need to hear what he says first,” he added, motioning with his head.
“There’s time.”
“You wanna come in too?”
He shook his head. “I have some more calls to make.”
Striker followed the doctor through the door and met Ava coming back out.
“Where’s Tabon?” she asked.
Striker pointed. “Over there.”
“I’ll be right back,” she said, walking toward her husband. “She wants you to go in.”
“The masses were benign,” he heard the doctor say as he walked over to Aine’s bedside.
She looked relieved, maybe more when he held her hand than by the doctor’s words.
“What about the seizure?” Striker asked.
“The MRI will tell us more, but I suspect it was an isolated incident.”
“When can I leave?” Aine asked.
“As long as you’ve done everything else on the list, I’ll release you in the morning. I do want to keep you here one more night, as a precaution.”
Aine nodded. Her sister had crept back into the room, but it didn’t seem like she noticed.
“Any other questions?”
She started to shake her head, but stopped. “Just one. Are there tests that will tell me whether my ovary is functioning?”
“There are, but there’s no point taking them for at least six weeks. By then we should be able to tell whether your body has resumed functioning normally.”
Aine looked up at Striker. “Do you have any questions?”
“I don’t,” he said, unsure if he was missing something she wanted him to say.
“Elizabeth said your incision looked fine, so I don’t need to check it again. I’ll see you later, once we have the results of your MRI.”
The doctor left the room, and Ava came back over to Aine’s bedside. “I’m going to stay,” she said, looking straight at him.
“Right,” he said, leaning down to kiss Aine’s cheek. “I need to leave, but I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
She moved so her lips brushed his. “As much as I know I should tell you not to, to get some rest instead, I want you here too.”
“Soon as I can,” he repeated, smiling at her as he walked out.
Razor was a few feet away, but instead of being on the phone, he was talking to his son.
He had spent eight months denying that having a child was something he wanted in his life, but now he wondered what it would feel like to hold his own baby in his arms, one he and Aine made together. And if they couldn’t, one they adopted together.
“Are you okay?” Razor asked. “Bad news?”
“No, good news. If all goes as planned, Aine should be able to leave the hospital tomorrow, in time for Thanksgiving.” Striker didn’t like the look on Razor’s face. “What?”
“We may need you to leave.”
“What? Dammit. No.”
“Like I said earlier, let’s head back to the house, and you can judge for yourself.”
Striker studied the monitor in front of him, watching as the arms Ghafor had been stockpiling were being systematically transported away from his compound.
“When’s the last time you laid eyes on Abdul?” he asked Monk.
“A little over eight hours ago.”
“Tell him where,” prompted Razor.
“Colombia.”
“Where are Tackle and Halo?” Razor asked.
“Still on the East Coast. So are Onyx and Corazón,” answered Monk.
With Ghafor in Colombia, there was no point in sending the team in. Neither Tackle nor Halo would have time to work their way into the embassy or one of the cartels. That level of infiltration would take weeks if not months.
“Let’s keep everyone on standby for now.”
“Roger that,” responded Monk.
“Oh, and there’s one more thing.” Razor motioned him out of the room, surprising him. Whatever he had to say couldn’t be said in front of Monk?
“Tara was
the one who contacted Stuart.”
Striker let Razor’s words soak in. How was that a concern? “Who gives a shit?”
“I do.”
“Why?”
“She’s staying in my house. She’s one of my wife’s best friends.”
“The plumber isn’t exactly sinister, Raze.”
“No, but she could be.”
“Where is she now?”
“On her way back to the hospital.”
“I really need a shower before I go back,” he muttered, more to himself than Razor.
“Yeah, you do.”
“Fuck off.”
Razor was studying something on his phone.
“What’s up?”
“Doing some digging on Tara Emsworth.”
“What have you come up with?”
“Nothing yet, just putting the wheels in motion.”
“I think you’re overreacting.”
“Gotta go with my gut, Striker. You know that.”
Yeah, he did. Sometimes it was all they could rely on. Right now his gut was telling him that whatever was going on with Ghafor was about to get a whole hell of a lot worse.
21
“I feel like so much has happened since you and I have had a chance to talk.”
“Like what?”
“Uh, you had a seizure, and something happened with you and Striker. Did he tell you about his sister’s death?”
Aine nodded. “I don’t remember anything about the seizure, but I can tell you about his sister.”
“What happened?”
“He got a call from her doctor after she died.”
“I figured it was something like that. So what now?” Ava asked after Aine told her that the doctor had recommended Griffin get tested to see if he carried the same genetic defect his sister had.
“I don’t know yet. I mean, I think he should do it so he knows, but I can’t say for sure that I would if the situations were reversed.”
“What about the seizure?”
Aine told her what the doctor had said about the anesthetics. “He said I’d be going for an MRI. I don’t know when though.”
The door opened again, and Pen and Tara walked in, followed by Quinn a few minutes later.
“Is it okay that we’re here?” Pen asked.
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Aine asked.
“You had a seizure. Have you forgotten that already?”
Ava looked over her shoulder to make sure the door was closed. “The seizure isn’t even the big news, girls. Ask her about Striker.”
Aine smiled. “I feel like we’re back at boarding school. Any second the dorm monitor is going to walk through that door and tell us to go back to our own rooms.”
“So, what happened?” Quinn asked.
“Sorry, Tara,” Ava said, poking her, “but I’m pretty sure Striker is off the market.”
“Damn. Who else you got?” said Penelope, poking Ava like she’d done to Tara.
“There aren’t many single men left on Razor’s team.”
“Both Tara and I want one.” Pen winked. “These spy guys are hot.”
“Time for your MRI,” said a man who came in with a clipboard in his hand.
“I’m going too,” said Ava. “See you later, ladies.”
When the orderly wheeled Aine back into the room after her test, Pen, Tara, and Quinn were still there, waiting.
“How did it go?” Quinn asked.
“The tech said Aine should hear something from the doctor this afternoon,” Ava answered for her.
“So, where’s your boyfriend?” asked Penelope.
“Which one?” Tara asked before Aine had a chance to respond.
“That’s enough, Tara,” said Ava, scowling at her.
“What? It’s hard to keep up, that’s all.”
“Tara, quit it,” said Pen.
Quinn didn’t say anything, but she didn’t look any happier than Ava or Penelope did.
Aine didn’t think the snarky comments were worth responding to, so she didn’t. She rested her head against the pillow and closed her eyes, wondering when Griffin would be back.
“You need to eat something,” said Ava.
When Aine opened her eyes, her sister was looking over the menu, but Tara was looking straight at her.
“I guess we forgot to order food earlier,” she said to Ava and then looked at Tara. “Do you have something else to say?” Aine asked directly.
Tara shook her head and folded her arms.
“Okay, then,” said Quinn, standing. “Time to go, Tara.”
“Why is everyone on my ass?” she asked, not making a move to get up.
“Because you’re being such a bitch,” answered Pen, looking at her fingernails rather than at Tara. “I agree, it’s time to go.”
Aine didn’t care why, but Pen’s words made their friend stand when Quinn’s hadn’t.
Tara walked toward the door, but Pen came over and kissed Aine’s cheek. “I’d say we’d come back later, but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“What’s wrong with her?” Aine whispered.
“Not sure, but I’ll see if I can find out.”
“What the hell?” said Ava once their two friends had left the room.
“Something’s up,” said Quinn, who was usually the first to say they should reserve judgment and the last to offer an opinion.
“She’s always been a bitch, but it seems like she’s gotten worse.”
Aine looked back and forth between her sister and Quinn. Both seemed concerned, but Aine wasn’t. She had her own problems to worry about, and she’d stopped caring what Tara thought about anything.
“Do you need to rest?” Ava asked, stroking her forehead.
Aine closed her eyes and nodded, wishing that Griffin would walk back in the door, take her in his arms, and tell her everything would be okay. Right now, something was telling her it wouldn’t be, and she hated the feeling of dread that had settled in her stomach when he left earlier.
“I’ll head out too, honey,” said Quinn. “You need your rest.”
“Close your eyes and sleep,” Ava said once Quinn was gone. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
She did as her sister suggested and closed her eyes. She turned her body away from her so Ava wouldn’t see her tears. If she asked, Aine wouldn’t have been able to tell her why she was crying.
—:—
Striker drove to the inn on Moonstone Beach, parked, went inside the room, and sat on the bed. He was exhausted physically, mentally, and emotionally.
A few hours ago, all he’d cared about was being by Aine’s side. He’d still feel that way if Ghafor was continuing to stockpile arms in Pakistan and hadn’t shown up in Colombia.
Knowing he might have to leave the country soon, Striker cursed the job he had always loved, but now grew to hate more with every mission. He got up and turned the shower’s water to scalding before climbing in.
On his way to the hospital, Striker called Merrigan.
“Did you hear Ghafor is back in Colombia?” he asked.
“I hadn’t. Why do you think he returned?”
“No idea, except the arms are shipping out too.”
“Do you want to talk to Doc?”
“I probably should. I’ll give him a call.”
“Not necessary, he’s right here.”
“What’s up?” Doc asked.
Striker told him what he’d just told Merrigan.
“How well do you know Jimenéz?”
“Not very. I met him years ago when he was a junior senator from New Mexico. Why?”
“His behavior when I met with him. As Merrigan said, I don’t think he’s as disengaged as he’s pretending to be.”
“You’re the lead on this mission, Striker. You have to go with what you believe is the best course of action.”
“For now I say we continue to wait and watch.”
“Roger that. On another subject, how’s Aine?”
&n
bsp; Striker gave him the condensed version. “If all goes well, she’ll be out tomorrow.”
“Just in time for Thanksgiving. Merrigan and I look forward to seeing her. Let her know that.”
“Will do,” Striker said, thanking him again before he hung up.
Before he went up to Aine’s room, he called Razor and filled him in on his conversation with Doc.
“I told him that I want to stand down for now.”
Something in Striker’s gut was telling him that Jimenéz was somehow involved with Ghafor and the Islamic fundamentalists, but he couldn’t piece together why or what that had to do with the arms being stockpiled.
“What about the arms?” Razor asked as though he was reading Striker’s mind. “Should we stop them in transit or keep the mission going?”
They had to keep it going. If the weaponry didn’t arrive wherever it was headed, Ghafor would shut down and likely ghost, at least temporarily.
“Let the shipments go,” he answered, standing up straight. “But tell Monk to keep his eyes on them and on Ghafor.”
“Roger that. I will when I see him,” said Razor. “By the way, are you back at the hospital?”
“Affirmative.”
“Can you do something for me?”
“Anything,” he said, meaning it sincerely.
“Send my wife home.”
“You got it.”
22
Aine held her breath when she heard the door open like she had every other time she’d prayed Griffin would walk in and it ended up being someone else.
She let out a sigh of relief when he came in, flowers in hand, and a smile on his face.
“You’re needed at home,” he said to Ava as he walked past, set the flowers on the window ledge, and leaned down to give Aine a kiss.
“I’m waiting for the doctor to tell us the results of the MRI.”
“We’ll call you,” Aine told her, not turning her head away from Griffin.
“All right, all right. I’ll leave.”
“Bye,” Aine said, still looking into Griffin’s eyes.
He looked up when he heard the door close.
“Is she gone?”
“Yes,” he answered, laughing.
Striker (K19 Security Solutions Book 6) Page 15
