Under Fire (Elite Force #3)

Under Fire (Elite Force #3) Page 43

And for their information, Lieutenant Brandon Harris was an air force security cop himself, and she was his girlfriend. Finally, finally, a sympathetic night shift nurse ushered her back if she promised to keep things quiet, and if the guard outside his door gave the okay.

“Of course,” Catriona said primly. “I’m always quiet.”

She ignored the chuckle from the wiry, older nurse and the guard as she pushed the door open into Brandon’s ICU room.

One look at him and tears clogged her nose. There were oxygen tubes. IVs dripped meds and what looked like a transfusion. His face was pale and puffy. Gauze was wrapped around his chest, his whole chest. How many times had he been shot? How many new scars on top of old ones would he have to bear for his country?

The nurse patted her shoulder. “He made it through surgery. That’s a good thing. You can sit with him and hold his hand. I’ll be right outside if you need anything.”

“Thank you…” Catriona choked out the words, trying to smile.

Her mom had been emphatic about manners, a good thing really. All the past frustrations at her parents felt so very small right now.

She pulled the chair closer to Brandon’s bed and took his hand, the one without IVs taped on top. “I’m so sorry this had to happen to you. But I’m here. I tried to bring Harley, but they wouldn’t let me, since she’s a therapy dog and not a service dog. Hopefully soon, though, we’ll work something out. For now, all the dogs are with Sunny. So don’t worry.”

Her voice faltered and she pressed her forehead to his arm, just letting the tears fall. She wasn’t sure how long she sobbed her heart and fears out, but the sheet was getting pretty wet and she needed tissues for her nose. Still, she didn’t want to let go. Touching him was reassuring, and they could toss her out at any minute. She would just stay like this a while longer, enjoying the way he stroked her hair—

He stroked her hair?

She looked up. “Brandon?”

“Yeah, Cat,” he answered, his voice a hoarse whisper, his touch heavy and a little clumsy. “It’s me. The others? Rachel?”

Clasping his hand, she pressed it to her cheek. “She’s okay. Everyone is all right. You did it. You called base security and alerted them. You relayed details it would have taken critical time to figure out otherwise. They got Rachel out alive and arrested General Sullivan.”

“Good. Thas… good…” His words slurred.

His eyes drifted closed and she tried not to be sad over that. He needed his rest.

Angling over him, she kissed his forehead and whispered what she hadn’t dared tell him when he was awake. “I love you.”

His eyes fluttered open and she blushed.

“Hey, now, Brandon, you weren’t supposed to hear that yet.”

He touched her lips. “You deserve better than me… so much baggage…”

She cupped his face and stared straight into his surprisingly clear eyes. “Who makes up the rules about what’s fair and not fair? Because last time I checked, life rarely keeps a perfectly tallied scoreboard.” She smiled. “Like that football analogy? I threw it in there just for you.”

He laughed, then coughed.

“Shhh…” She pressed her fingers to his mouth. “You don’t have to talk. I just want you to know that I do love you. The man you are now and the part of yourself you’ll reclaim over time. I understand about journeys to strength.”

“God, Cat, I love you, too”—his chest pumped for air, from exertion and emotion—“but I won’t ever be… the same man I was before.”

“Brandon, I can’t imagine how anyone could remain unchanged after what you’ve been through.” She kissed his hand, sitting by his side where she intended to stay. “I accept you as you are. That’s a great gift, you know. You gave the same to me.”

She’d waited a lifetime for someone to accept her, see her, the real her. But then maybe a part of that journey was learning to accept herself first. Whatever the path, she was just so very glad it had led her to this man.

Liam stood outside the emergency room door, where Rachel was finishing up billing paperwork after her exam. She’d been smacked around pretty bad by General Sullivan, and Liam had been hard-pressed not to return the favor by beating the crap out of the bastard.

But this arrest was going one hundred percent by the book. No jeopardizing the conviction. When everything came out, after the military justice system finished with Sullivan, he would be lucky to get only a life sentence—treason, kidnapping, murder, attempted murder. There wasn’t a punishment harsh enough.

Liam cracked his knuckles.

The automatic doors from outside swished open, bringing in a gust of humid Florida heat along with Jose James. The younger PJ had changed into jeans and a marathon shirt, his gym shoes squeaking on the tiles.

“Everything okay with Rachel, sir?” Cuervo pulled up alongside him.

“Right as rain.” Thank God. “We’re out of here any second now.”

“Awesome. Awesome.” Cuervo nodded, fishing in his pocket and bringing out keys. “Data and I thought you might need some wheels, since that rat trap Jeep you bought is still down in the Everglades. So we brought you a rental car over. Data’s on the phone with a lady friend now or he would have come in with me. She’s pissed because he missed their date last night. I guess saving the free world isn’t a good enough excuse sometimes.”

“Data had a date?”

“Yeah, I know. Guess some gals go for pocket protectors.” He passed over the keys. “Here ya go. We even made sure it’s gassed up.”

“Hey, thanks.” He clasped the cool metal in his fist, searching for the right words, but hell, there weren’t ones big enough to thank a person for helping save his world—Rachel. “I appreciate this, and everything else you guys did for us these past few days.”

“De nada. It’s what we do for each other.” Cuervo leaned back, crossing his feet at the ankles. “You gotta know what the takeaway is from this whole little debacle.”

“Move to the Everglades permanently? My car’s already there.”

Cuervo looked at him, really looked, with a maturity gained from the job more than of years. “If all the good ones like you get out, we’re stuck with leaders like General Dickhead.”

A laugh punched up and out. God, he loved his guys. “I appreciate the sentiment.”

They settled into silence, soaking up that side benefit of being a team, spending hours in the field or on the road together. They didn’t have to fill every second with meaningless chitchat. When they spoke, it counted. It meant something. And it was clear Cuervo had something more on his mind.

Finally, Liam nudged. “Go ahead and spit it out, kid. Whatever it is you need to say.”

Cuervo stared at the floor, scuffing the heel of a gym shoe while he gathered his thoughts just right. “Seriously, I get that it’s tough to stay in this profession, to screw over the ones you love again and again because the mission calls. I see that grief with the other guys in the unit over busted relationships. At what point does a guy go from being an altruistic serviceman to becoming a cold bastard ignoring the needs of his family?” He frowned. “God knows, I don’t have the answer.”

Liam swallowed hard, thinking of his exes, the breakups, the pain he’d caused.

Cuervo looked up, pinning Liam with clear trusting eyes that would follow him into hell if he asked. “But I do know whatever happened in the past is the past. And the man I see in front of me today is sitting firmly on the altruistic side.”

Liam scratched his chest right over his heart, which was starting to pump hard. Back in the plane, he’d realized how damn foolish it was to let Rachel go. But if he got out of the air force, his life forked in a different direction from hers or so he’d thought during that stupid-ass fight back at the cabin.

And if he stayed in the air force, well, the odds didn’t bode well for military marriages, especially ones around his career field. “I’ve got a chance here with Rachel and I don’t want to wreck it by making the same mistakes all over again.”

“Then don’t make ’em. You aren’t that guy from before. It’s that simple.”

Could it be that easy? Could the kid be right in teaching the old guy?

Jose James pushed away from the wall. “Look for a purple Jeep. Sorry about the color. It was the only Wrangler at the rental place. Enjoy your ride, sir.”

Liam watched Cuervo all the way into the dark parking lot, where he climbed into a silver sports car with Data at the wheel.

As they drove off, Rachel stepped around a cubicle wall, wearing borrowed surgical scrubs and holding an ice pack to her jaw. Butterfly bandages held together a split in her lip and another along her temple. He wanted to reach for her, but wasn’t sure where it would be safe to touch her.

“Are you okay?”

“Bill’s paid. Doctor says I’ll be fine. No broken bones. Just a whopper bruise. The general hits like a girl.” She snorted on a laugh, then winced. “Okay, moratorium on jokes for a while.”

He rethought his stance on kicking the crap out of the guy. He readjusted the ice pack over the Technicolor bruise climbing up from her jaw. “Maybe we should go back in to see the doc again.”

“I’m all right, Liam, really.” She tapped his temple. “Think like a medic and you’ll be able to dial back the worry. But what about you? Are you okay? What you did to save me up there… that was nuts.”

“I’m fine. Didn’t have to hammer my old knees with a jump, so it’s all good.” He waved away discussion of their time in the air, for the most part still a blur to him because he’d been so in the zone, focused completely on the mission. Maybe later he could decompress it, pull it out to examine for others to use in future rescues.

For now, he only wanted to think about Rachel, alive. Thank God, alive.

Looping an arm around her shoulders, he tucked her against his side, carefully, watching for the least flinch from her. “Let’s go home.”

“Where would that be?” She glanced up at him, her brown eyes dark, serious.

“Home with me,” he said as the electric doors swooshed open.

She didn’t argue, which he hoped meant she agreed. She just walked alongside him quietly, step for step in sync, like when he was with his team. Somewhere along the way, she’d become his partner, and he’d almost stupidly thrown that away.

He angled his head so he could smell her hair as the wind tossed it around. “I was thinking you could recover at my place, since you’re currently homeless. I keep a clean house—should hold up to chick standards. My mom taught me that too, along with cooking, to make sure I was independent, you know, for after she died.”

Dredging up that little painful nugget from his childhood hadn’t been easy, but he was trying to be Joe Sensitive here, opening up and sharing something of himself the way the counselors had always been digging at him to do. Would she recognize that he was trying?

“Your mom sounds like a wise and practical woman.” She glanced up, her jaw purple, her eyes full of… him. “Do you have a picture of her at your house?”

“I do. A few of them in an album tucked away.”

“Good, I would like to see them.”

And just that easily, she’d agreed to go with him. As Cuervo said, sometimes life was just that simple.

“First thing tomorrow,” he promised. “I’ll find them.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder. “Can we pick up the dogs at Sunny’s on the way home tonight?”

He exhaled, hard, relief whooshing through him as they made plans, wove their lives together. “Of course.”