Hidden Heat: Hauberk Protection, Book 4 (30 page)

Which name would she have to take? McPherson? Or Fitzgerald?

Rosie tilted her head as she considered Sandy. “Do you think I’ve given up anything by moving in with Sam? Am I any different than I was before?”

“No?”

“Of course I’m not. I’m the same person I was before. And Troy’s not that much different than Sam. He may be quieter about things, but in reality they’re a lot alike.” Rosie tucked one leg under the other and faced Sandy. “Do you care for Troy? Do you think you could get to the point where you could love him?”

“Yeah. I do.” She did love him. She hated the idea that he might get hurt, or might move back to England where she couldn’t see him every day, but… “I just—”

Rosie’s phone rang. “Hang on.”
 

Sandy’s stomach did flips when the expression on Rosie’s face turned bland. She’d seen that same look on Sam’s face when he’d heard that Chad had been shot. “What’s happened?”

Rosie held up her hand and shook her head. “Where are they? Thanks, Jake.” She ended the call and hurried to the bottom of the stairs and called for Holly. The agent appeared, a mascara-smudged Jazz trailing her. “A friend of mine from dispatch called. There’s been a situation. We need to get to St. Jerome’s. Can you stay here with Jazz?”

St. Jerome’s
Hospital
? Oh shit.

Lauren paled and grasped Rosie’s arm. “Who? How bad?”

“I don’t know.” Rosie glanced sideways at Sandy. “All Jake said was that there were several ambulances at the scene.”

No one spoke as Rosie drove at a breakneck pace through the Bethesda streets. The look on Troy’s face as she’d stepped into the elevator that morning burned in her memory. The story of how he’d betrayed his father, something he’d not even told his best friend, should have told her how much he trusted her. He’d told her he loved her without asking her to say it back to him. Yet she’d thrown that trust, his confession of love, back in his face by walking out.

She clutched the armrest as Rosie ran a yellow light and careened around a corner onto the 495 on-ramp. Lauren turned on the radio and fiddled with the switches until she found an all-news channel.

About ten minutes in, the announcer reported a ”breaking news story”’ about a shoot-out in Bethesda. “According to the Maryland Police, there were two fatalities. We’ll have more on the story as we get the details.”

Rosie put her foot to the floor and weaved through traffic in moves worthy of a NASCAR driver.

Two fatalities.

Oh God! What if Troy died thinking she didn’t care about him? Thinking that the one person he’d finally trusted didn’t give a damn. What had she done? What if she never saw him again?

Rosie let them off at the emergency entrance and they raced inside while she parked the car. Chad and Scott rose from a bank of chairs in the darkened waiting room, the television the only light source, washing any color from their faces.

While Lauren slowed and sank into Chad’s embrace, muttering, “Thank God,” Sandy rushed past them looking for any sign of Troy. Scott caught her. “Troy’s been shot but it’s not life threatening. He’s in surgery, but he’s going to be okay. Don’t worry.”

Her knees weak, she clung to his arm. “How bad is it?”

He pressed her into one of the chairs and took her hands in his, squeezing lightly. “He took a bullet to his thigh, which can be serious, but he’s going to come out okay. I promise.”

There was a major blood vessel there, wasn’t there? Unable to get her head around the concept that she’d almost lost Troy, might still lose him, Sandy clutched Scott’s hands like a lifeline.

“What about Sam?” Lauren asked. “Rosie’s coming in once she parks the car. I think she’s pretty freaked.”

Almost as much as Lauren had been, Sandy reckoned.

“Sam’s fine,” Chad assured them, “but he’s still at Sandy’s dealing with the police and the media. He’ll be by as soon as he can get free.”

”Who was killed then? Rowlands?”

”Yeah, him and a shooter we haven't identified yet. Andy’s waiting for us up in the surgical waiting room on the fifth floor,” Scott said quietly. “You want to go up there and wait?”

Sandy nodded. Scott wrapped his arm around her waist as they walked down the hall toward the elevators, while Lauren and Chad followed them. A police officer leafed through a magazine while Andy paced, his hair sticking up in every direction.

Sandy’s stomach heaved at the dark stain on his jeans. But whether it was Troy’s blood or one of the other men’s, she didn’t want to know.

“Hey, Andy, any news?” Scott asked.

“A nurse came out a few minutes ago and said they were almost done with Troy.” He looked at Sandy with concern. “How you doing, Sandy?”

Why was everyone so concerned about her when it was Troy lying on an operating room table? She opened her mouth to answer but found she couldn’t so she shook her head and let Scott lead her to one of the chairs.

“What happened anyway? Who shot Troy?”

“The op itself went fine.” Andy ran his hand through his hair. “Rowlands walked right up to the door, not expecting anyone other than Jazz to be waiting for him. We cuffed him and called the cops who arrested him.”

Scott picked up the tale. “We were following the cop taking Rowlands out of the apartment when a guy stepped out of the stairwell and started shooting. Rowlands went down and we returned fire. Before we killed him the shooter’s last shot went wild and hit Troy in the thigh.”

She sat there, images of Troy hurt, pale and bleeding, flooding her mind. Chad and Lauren sat across from her, holding hands. Andy continued to wear a hole in the tiles. When the elevator doors opened and Sam walked out, Rosie looked up from the thumbnail she was worrying and leapt to her feet. “Sam!”

Sam caught her as she flung herself at him, lifting her off the ground so he could kiss her.

“It’s all right, Rosebud. I just had to make sure the police got everything squared away. Didn’t mean for you to get worried.” She should be happy for Rosie that Sam was safe. But with Troy in surgery, she found it hard to squelch the jealousy surging through her.

Still holding Rosie off the ground, Sam glanced over at Chad. “Any news?”

Chad shook his head. “He’s still in surgery.”

He let Rosie down but kept his arm around her. “Hey, Sandy, how you doin’?”

“Worried,” Sandy admitted.

“He’ll be fine, honey. He was bleeding like a stuck pig but the paramedics got to him real quick.”

Rosie swatted him in the chest. “
Stupido
, she didn’t need to hear that last bit.”

The group got quiet again as they waited. Each time the door to the operating rooms opened everyone would look up hopefully. When the orderly or nurse walked past without sparing them a glance, everyone slumped back in their seats. As the silence grew heavier, Sandy picked at a seam on her purse, wishing she could go back to this morning, that she’d had the courage to tell Troy she loved him too.

It seemed forever before the double doors opened and a woman in scrubs appeared. She took one look at the group and headed straight for them. “McPherson?”

Sam rose with a nod, no trace of a smile on his face. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I’m Dr. Rosslyn—I operated on Mr. McPherson. He’s stable. Luckily for him there was no artery or bone damage. We won’t know about nerve damage until he’s fully out of the anesthesia but if all goes well, we’ll probably be able to release him tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Sandy squeaked. “How can you release him so quickly if he’s been in surgery for so many hours.”

All heads turned to her. “Sandy, ” Scott said, his tone gentle, “Troy’s been in surgery less than an hour.”

Less than an hour? That couldn’t be right. But she glanced at Rosie who nodded in agreement. “I could have sworn… It felt like…” forever.

“He’s being moved to recovery now.” Dr. Rosslyn’s gaze swept the group but lingered longest on her. “You can visit him, but only two at a time and only for five minutes each.”

All gazes swiveled to her as Sam said, “Sandy, do you want to see Troy first?”

Sandy nodded. “Yeah, I do.” Her knees shook when she stood. Even though she knew he was all right, she didn’t know if he’d want to see her. “Scott? Would you come with me?”

His smile put her at ease as he stood. “Of course I will.”

The trip down the hallway to the recovery area was only a couple dozen steps, but it stretched before her as if it were miles.

The doctor stopped in front of a blue printed curtain halfway down the room. “He’ll still be groggy but he’s awake.” She pulled the curtain aside then left them alone.

Scott pushed Sandy toward the bed. “Go on, talk to him.”

Her breath catching in her throat, Sandy walked closer. Troy’s eyes were closed, his dark lashes accentuating the pallor of his skin, his leg was encased in a huge bandage. She stood at the side of the bed, wanting to take his hand but afraid to disturb the IV leads. “Hey,” she said softly.
 

His eyes fluttered open and turned in her direction, his pupils large and unfocussed. “Sandy?”

She smoothed the hair off his forehead. “You sure gave us a scare.”

“Why are you here?” He blinked and frowned. “Wait. Scott. How’s Scott?”

Scott stood on the opposite side of the bed. “I’m right here. You’re the only one who was stupid enough to get shot.”

Why are you here?
What did he mean? Did he not want to see her? She took a deep breath. “Do you want me to leave? Should I send Chad or someone else in?”

Troy gave his head a small shake and lifted the hand on the other side, the one without the needles. “Want you here. Always.”

She choked back her sob and reached across to touch his hand. “Oh, God, Troy, I’ve been so worried about you. When I heard there’d been shots fired—” I’d thought maybe I’d lost you. That I’d never get to tell you I love you too.

“Don’t be afraid of me.”

Of him? Because of what he’d told her about killing Garcia, or his father? “I’m not afraid of you. I’ll never be afraid of you.
For
you, yeah, totally, but never
of
you.”

“Yes, you are.” His words were mumbled and slurred. She cast a worried glance at Scott who shook his head and mouthed “
it’s the drugs”
. His eyes drooped until they closed and his voice dropped to a husky whisper. “Love you.”

“I love you too, Troy.” She lifted his fingers to her lips then pressed her cheek against them. “God, I love you so much it scares me.”

She waited for a reaction, a response, something, but his eyes didn’t open, and his lips didn’t curl into a grin.

“He’s asleep, honey,” Scott whispered. “Come on, let’s let him rest. The nurse over there is giving us the evil eye and tapping her watch.”

As he guided her back to the waiting room, Sandy strained to look back until she couldn’t see Troy anymore. As she trudged down the corridor back toward the cramped waiting area, she couldn’t help wondering, “Do you think he heard me?”

“I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out when he wakes up.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

The television in the next cubicle blared the inane chatter of one of the morning talk shows and the crackled voice over the intercom squawked altogether too loud. After a hospital worker delivered a breakfast tray, Troy lifted the cover hopefully and cursed under his breath to find a clump of oatmeal, suspiciously pale scrambled eggs and two rashers of limp bacon.

An hour later a nurse who looked like she’d barely graduated high school, let alone nursing school, poked her head around the curtain and frowned at the remains of his breakfast. “You didn’t eat anything, Mr. McPherson. Are you not feeling well?”

He gestured to the tray. “Anyone would get grumpy eating that slop. There’s no way in frickin’ hell those were real eggs, the coffee was little better than dishwater, and every damned thing was colder than a witch’s tit in the arctic in January. I can’t sleep with the noise around here and my fucking leg hurts like a son of a bitch.”

“Oooh, somebody’s grumpy, I see.” Did they give perky lessons in nursing school because someone really needed to tell those instructors that perky could bug the shit out of a patient stuck in a hospital bed.

“I haven’t had any visitors, have I? A blonde a couple inches taller than you?” he asked, unable to hide the hope in his voice.

“Not yet but visiting hours aren’t for three hours and you should be released by then.”

“I could have sworn…”
I’d heard her voice.
Strange, he was certain someone had touched his forehead while he’d been sleeping. Probably a nurse.

“Let’s see how you’re doing, shall we?” Cold air hit his dick and his balls when she flipped aside the covers, baring the big-ass bandage on his thigh. Okay, so he was in a corner unit and the curtain between him the bed beside him was drawn but the nurse didn’t need that type of peep show. Not to mention the fucking hospital was cold and his balls had shriveled to the size of grapes.

He grabbed the covers and scrunched them over his groin then hissed in a breath when she ripped the tape from his skin, tearing a handful of hair along with the adhesive. No matter how he tried not to look, he couldn’t stop his eyes from dropping. Oh shit. It was a fucking good thing he was lying down or she’d guess what a wimp he’d morphed into. Even so, sweat gathered in his armpits and the back of his knees and his muscles reduced to like gelatin at the sight of the little black line of stitches holding his skin together.