Authors: Kathryn Le Veque
Casey
scooted to the car and opened the door, settling in and slamming the door
closed. Peter peeled out of the driveway as she fastened her seatbelt.
“What
happened?” she asked, hoping she didn’t sound as shaken as she felt. “How are
Colt and Tracy?”
Peter tore
off onto Pennsylvania Avenue. “Tracy’s in surgery,” he said. “She took one
right to the belly. It’s just like they say; it all happened so fast that it
was over before you realized it. Tracy was just talking to some people and
suddenly, we hear this loud popping noise. She goes down and Colt and I jumped
on the President and pushed him to the tarmac. As we’re doing this, about ten
agents rushed the gunman. He was just standing on the edge of the crowd like no
big deal and after he got off six shots, he just dropped the gun. We jumped on
him and I’m pretty sure we broke an arm.”
Casey was
looking at him, struggling with every ounce of strength she possessed not to
burst into tears. “What about Colt?” she asked tightly.
Peter
glanced at her as the tore at break-neck speed to Walter Reed Military
Hospital.
“Well…,”
his voice softened up. “He did his job, Casey. He was the first one to get the
President down on the ground, but he happened to be standing between the
President and Tracy, so when she got hit first, he got it second. He’s a pretty
big target. His back was turned so he caught a bullet in his neck and, as he
went to throw the President to the ground, he caught another bullet in the
thigh. But it didn’t stop him; he’s bleeding all over the damn place and he
still got up, picked the President up, and pretty much tossed him into the
limo. They got Tracy in the car, too, and just took off for Walter Reed.”
Casey
turned to the window, unable to stop the tears. They streamed down her face as
she tried to discreetly wipe them away. Peter knew she was crying and he knew
why, feeling very sorry for her. He couldn’t stay quiet any longer.
“Look,
Casey,” he lowered his voice. “I know that you and Colt… he told me what was
going on between you two, so that’s why the President sent me to get you. Colt
won’t go into surgery until he sees you. It’s been about an hour since he was
hit so we really need to get him fixed up, but he refuses. When the doctors
tried to wheel him away, he grabbed one of the nurses around the neck and
nearly strangled the guy.”
By this
time, Casey had turned around to look at him, a shocked expression on her face.
“He
told
you?”
Peter
nodded, sensing displeasure. “Don’t be mad,” he said quietly. “I’ll take the
secret to my grave, I promise. To tell you the truth, I pretty much figured it
out anyway on that day we got the call about Brody and went looking for you.
We figured out you were with Colt.”
Casey
wiped at the tears on her face, figuring there wasn’t much she could do about
it now. If Colt told Peter, then he must have had a good reason. She sighed
heavily.
“How is he
really?” she wanted to know, her voice soft and pleading. “What about the wound
in his neck? Is it bad?”
He shook
his head. “That one passed through without hitting anything vital,” he said.
“It’s the one in his thigh they have to go in and remove. Any higher and it
would have hit him in the ass… uh, I mean, his butt.”
Peter
didn’t seem too distressed. In fact, he seemed to joke about it, which eased
Casey’s mind. She sighed again, wiping the last of her tears. “He has a cute
butt.”
Peter
fought off a grin. “I wouldn’t know.”
Casey felt
much better than she had since she first heard the news. Emotionally exhausted,
she sat back against the car seat and remained quiet until they reached Walter
Reed Military Hospital.
Walter
Reed was a massive complex and considering the attempt on the President’s life,
it was now surrounded by Military Police as well as the Secret Service. Peter
had to pass through two checkpoints before he was able to park the car. Still
in the pretty purple suit that Colt had liked so much, a suit that had now seen
a lot of activity during the day, Casey hurriedly followed Peter across the
rainy parking lot and into the main lobby of the hospital where they had to
pass another Secret Service checkpoint. Once cleared, Peter took her up to the
fourth floor.
There were
more Secret Service agents when they got off the elevator and still more in the
small waiting room to the left of the elevator banks. It smelled heavily of
disinfectant as Casey and Peter went down the corridor and to a door that was
just shy of the nurse’s station that said “No Admittance”. Peter knocked
before pushing the door open.
Russ was
inside the room with several advisors, glancing up to see Casey and Peter
coming through the door. Russ jumped up and went to her.
“Mr.
President,” Casey reached out and took the hand he was extending at her. “How’s
Tracy?”
“She’s
going to be okay,” he said, his voice trembling with obvious relief. “She
wanted to know if the doctor could do a tummy tuck as she was going under
anesthesia, so if she’s thinking about feminine vanity, then she’s going to be
fine.”
Casey
smiled, squeezing his hand. “Thank God,” she murmured. “Is she out of surgery
yet?”
“They’re
finishing up now. They said there wasn’t any real damage and she should be
fine.”
Casey
nodded, murmuring another pray of thanks. Then her thoughts turned to Colt.
“How’s Colt?”
Russ
turned her around for the door. “Pete, take her to him. Last I heard, he was
still waiting for her.”
Peter
nodded and took Casey by the hand, leading her from the small room into the
clean, stark corridor that lead towards the east side of the wing. There was a
secondary corridor that lead off to the right and Peter hurried took her down
that one to the second door on the left. A nurse was coming out of the door as
Peter let the woman pass before pushing his way in.
Colt lay
on a gurney in a small, windowless room, eyes closed and his big body lit up
with I.V.’s and monitors. There was a massive bandage around his neck and his
right leg was elevated and prepped. As Peter remained at the door, Casey
walked right up to the gurney and grasped Colt’s right hand.
“Colt?”
she said softly.
His dark
eyes popped open and focused on her. Both hands, with I.V. needles sticking in
them, came up to cup her face.
“Hi,
angel,” he said, pulling her down to him. He kissed her sweetly and, feeling
his tender touch, Casey broke down in tears. He shushed her softly. “No tears.
I’m okay. I’m going to be fine.”
Casey
tried to speak but she couldn’t seem to manage it. She held on to his big
hand, struggling to wipe the tears from her face.
“You’re
sure?” she whispered.
“I am.”
“Then you
need to let them take you into surgery,” she said, bending down to kiss him
again with her salty lips. “Why did you wait for me?”
His dark
eyes looked even more intense set within his pale face. “Because I wanted to
see you first before they did anything,” he whispered. “I wanted to tell you
that I love you and that I’m sorry about this.”
She ran
her hand over his face, touching him tenderly. “Sorry about what?” she asked.
“Colt, you need to let them take you into surgery. That would make me happy.
Please don’t be stubborn about it.”
He kissed
her hand. “I won’t,” he assured her. “I’ll go. But I just had to see your face
before I went.”
Casey
turned around to Peter and nodded her head, motioning out towards the nurse’s
station. Peter took that as a sign that Colt was ready for surgery and he
quickly went in search of the nurse. As Peter fled, Casey returned her focus
to Colt. Bending over him, she kissed his forehead, his cheek, and finally his
lips.
“I love
you,” she whispered. “I’m so proud of what you did.”
Colt closed
his eyes as she kissed his nose and brow. “I got shot.”
She
grinned, caressing his rough cheek. “You were a hero. You saved the President.”
He just
grunted, closing his eyes as she stroked his forehead. It was a very gentle
gesture, one that eased Colt tremendously. There was so much love and sweetness
in her touch, her soft hand stroking his skin. He could have stayed like that
forever, feeling the emotions in her touch.
Exhausted
and injured, Colt let himself relax for the first time all day and began to
doze. Casey kept caressing him, glancing up when a nurse in green surgical
scrubs came around the other side of the bed with a syringe in her hand.
“So,” she
looked between Colt and Casey. “Can we finally get this bullet out of you,
Special Agent in Charge Sheridan?”
Casey
grinned at the way the woman said it. “Yes, you can,” she answered for him.
“I’m sorry if he’s been a problem child.”
The nurse
laughed, looking at Colt. “Your wife says we can finally hack in to you,” she
said, “so I’m going to listen to her and not you anymore. You’re mine now,
Sheridan.”
Casey’s
grin faded, thinking how to tactfully explain she wasn’t Colt’s wife, but Colt
opened his eyes and looked at the nurse.
“If my
wife says you can cut me open, then let’s do it,” he said as the nurse took his
I.V. line and plunged the contents of the syringe into the line. “Casey’s the
boss.”
The nurse
disposed of the syringe in the biohazard bin. “Hmmm,” she lifted an eyebrow.
“You weren’t that compliant when you came in here. She must have some magic
powers over you. Had I known that, I would have gotten her over here faster.”
Colt
looked up at Casey, a faint smile on his beautiful lips. “Some kind of magic,”
he agreed softly, suddenly feeling very drowsy and realizing he was about to
pass out from whatever medication the nurse had put in his I.V. “I love you.
I’ll see you when I wake up.”
Casey
squeezed his hand tightly. “I’ll be right here,” she promised, kissing his lips
one last time. “I love you, too.”
By the time
she got the words out of her mouth, he was asleep. Casey continued to hold his
hand, gazing down at his handsome face, as tears sprang to her eyes. She
didn’t know why she was crying, only that it had something to do with how close
she came to losing him. She could have just as easily been standing in the
morgue looking at his body. Just when she had found an utterly wonderful man,
that happiness was threatened. The whole situation was just shattering.
The nurse
was still standing next to the gurney, unplugging monitors and preparing to
wheel him out of the room. The woman glanced up and saw tears popping from
Casey’s eyes, raining down on Colt’s shoulder and arm.
“He’ll be
fine,” the nurse said, her manner more gentle now. “He shouldn’t be in surgery
more than an hour at the most. The doctor will remove the bullet, repair any
damage, and then take a look at the neck would to make sure everything is
intact. You can walk with me to the operatory if you’d like.”
Casey
could only nod; the lump in her throat prevented her from speaking. She was
still holding Colt’s hand when two more nurses came into the room to wheel Colt
into surgery. As they moved Colt’s bed out into the corridor, Casey walked
beside him, his hand in hers, until they turned a corner and the surgery doors
loomed in front of her. Squeezing Colt’s hand, she kissed him one last time
before the three nurses wheeled him in through the big, white double doors that
led into surgery.
After
that, there was nothing left to do but wait.
CHAPTER TEN
One week
later
“Congratulations,”
Mr. Meade walked right in to Colt’s townhome the moment Colt opened the door.
“How are you feeling?”
Colt eyed
Mr. Meade. The elderly man was accompanied by his chauffer and bodyguard, an
enormous Japanese man who had once been a sumo wrestler. The big man went
everywhere with Meade but usually stayed in the car. However, he had
accompanied him today and remained standing just inside the door as Colt moved
stiffly back to his big leather couch and sat gingerly, avoiding putting too
much pressure on the thigh wound.
“I’ve been
better,” he grunted as he shifted around on the couch to find a comfortable
position. “What do you mean by congratulations?”
Meade
seemed rather warm and jovial today, an odd stance for the usually taciturn
man. “Exactly that,” he replied. “You’ve cemented the trust President Talbot
has in you. Taking a bullet meant for the man was a brilliant way to do it.”
Colt
sighed heavily. “I didn’t do it on purpose,” he said. “It just happened that
way.”
“Then it
was most fortuitous.”
Colt
didn’t reply other than to look between Meade and his bodyguard. “So why are
you here?” he asked. “You don’t normally make housecalls. In fact, I can’t
remember you ever coming to my home.”