"Tex?"
He stood, moved closer to her mattress, and threw her one of his best cocky flyboy grins. That was the familiar thing that helped settle an unfamiliar reality around her. Four white, sterile walls and a window came into focus, none of which she was certain she'd ever seen before. There were flowers in the room; lots of flowers, giving off a glorious scent. This wasn't her bedroom at her trailer in Marathon, and this wasn't even the room Dirk had prepared for her at Dominic Van Allen's estate.
"Where am I?"
"St. George's Hospital, in Hamilton."
So, she was still in Bermuda. "Why am I here?"
"Well, the Constable there," Tex said, nodding over his shoulder toward the closed door. Micki followed the gesture, looking down past the dreary lightweight blanket covering her legs, and saw a policewoman sitting on a chair just inside the room. "She tells me you've been shot."
The word brought back the memories. Guns. Reynolds shooting. Dirk's blood all over her. Micki raised a shaky hand, tentatively fingering the soft gauze dressing her left temple. "No, I meant... why am I still in Bermuda?"
Tex grinned again. "Probably something to do with the fact that you've been unconscious ever since I got here."
Determined, Micki focused her full attention on him again. "When was that?"
"About noon—three hours ago." Tex leaned closer to whisper, as if sharing a secret that only she was meant to hear. "Don't worry, you're going to be okay. The doc said the bullet just grazed you, but they want to keep you here overnight for observation. I think they're more worried about the knock you took on the noggin."
Well, that would explain the awful headache. She vaguely remembered hitting her head on the boat deck when Luke tackled her. Quite possibly, his actions had saved her from taking Reynolds' bullet smack between the eyes. Luke had saved her life.
Her gaze strayed around the room again. So where was he?
Tex straightened and resumed a normal speaking voice that the female bobby would have no trouble overhearing. "After that, little lady, you and me got us two first class seats back to the good old U.S. of A. And don't you worry none about the details, it's all taken care of."
Her head pounding, Micki put words to a far greater ache. "Where's Luke?"
Tex gave her a funny look, as if not comprehending the question. "You mean... Hardigan? That jerk we met at
The Sandpiper
the other night?"
Micki's head began to whirl at the idea of Tex not knowing anything about Luke or the events that had put her life into a tailspin these past few days. She drew a deep, steadying breath then devoted all of her efforts to clarifying the question. "Yes, Luke Hardigan. Is he okay? I'd like to see him."
Tex gave her an uncertain smile that said now he was really worried about her. "Micki, I haven't seen the guy since last Thursday night, in the Keys. If he was here, he's long gone."
The knife through her heart was a far greater agony than the pain in her head. Micki screwed her eyes shut. What was going on here? Now that Luke had his hard sought after evidence on a data storage card, had he just dumped her in the Emergency Room and left for greener pastures?
But he... said he loved her.
"I'm afraid Commander Hardigan had to leave," the policewoman spoke up.
Commander? That's right, Luke was Navy. Navy JAG.
Standing, the uniformed bobby crossed to Micki's bedside and offered a sympathetic smile. Shoulder to shoulder with Tex, she said, "He's all right. His injuries were superficial, nothing a long rest won't cure. He wanted to stay until you regained consciousness, but other circumstances warranted his full attention." She gestured at one of the dozen bouquets littering the room. "All the flowers are from him."
Tex snorted in disapproval. "For Pete's sake, Micki's lying in a hospital bed after being shot! If that jerk really cared about her, he wouldn't have let 'other circumstances' drag him away. No amount of damn flowers can make up for that."
The policewoman threw him a disapproving glance, but her words were for Micki. "I'm sure he'll be in touch. He's taken the information you obtained to the proper authorities." Her gaze softened sympathetically. "When you're feeling better, we'll need your statement, too."
Micki began to nod, and immediately regretted it when the pain in her skull swelled to new proportions.
"But not until later," Tex said protectively. "Or even tomorrow. Right now you should just rest."
Opening her eyes, Micki caught the pointed glance the woman shot toward Tex, which he ignored in favor of a worried look at her. She couldn't rest. Not yet. There was another question to be asked.
"Did... Commander Hardigan say when he'd be back?"
The policewoman offered another understanding smile and shook her head. "I'm sorry, no."
Micki closed her eyes, trying to settle the confusion whirling in her brain with all the new information. When she opened them, she found the policewoman had returned to her chair by the door, and Tex still regarding her with a concerned frown.
"You okay, Micki?"
Probably not. But that wasn't something she was ready to tell him right now. It was obvious he only knew snippets of what had happened, so how he had tracked her there, all the way to Bermuda, was a mystery.
That seemed a safer subject than her current state of mind. "What are you doing here, Tex? I mean, how did you find me?"
He grinned. "Darlin', you've had me running on caffeine and nerves for days now, looking for you."
"You found my ELT, right?" she guessed. She had left the emergency transmitter on a sandbar, turned it on at an appropriate time, all just like she was supposed to do.
"I told Padre you would have activated it!" he said in her defense. Then he shook his head. "Nope, we didn't find it. Didn't hear a blip. But I knew you would have done the right thing."
The right thing. Micki's eyes closed under a frown. She always did the right thing. She had done exactly what her father had taught her to do in an emergency situation; exactly what he would have expected. Only this time it hadn't worked.
Looking at Tex, she asked, "Then how—what led you to Bermuda?"
"Let's just say that I couldn't have done it without the help of a couple of old folks from Ohio who, when asking for directions to the country club, just didn't think things looked right. Of course, they were only one piece of the puzzle. It wasn't until I found Fizz that I really started believing you'd met with foul play."
"Fizz." Micki sobbed once, but was able to regain control. Tex had recovered Fizz's body; at least now she could properly lay him to rest.
Much to her amazement, Tex's smile widened. "Man, was he happy to see me! Just about licked me to death." He shook his head in fond amusement. "I swear that dog of yours thinks he's a bird. Wanted to ride up front in the helo with me and Padre all the way back to Marathon. What have you been doing? Teaching him to be your co-pilot?" Noting her stunned expression, he finally stopped babbling. "What?"
"Fizz is..." Micki hesitated, hardly daring to even hope. "He's alive?"
"Of course he's alive! Wait, you mean you thought he was—?" Tex blew out a long comprehending breath and reached to take her hand again. He gave it a reassuring squeeze, as if to reinforce that he was telling the truth. "Darlin', Fizz is fine. We picked him up on an uninhabited island off Big Pine on Sunday afternoon, when we were out looking for you."
Tears of joy slipped from her eyes. Fizz was alive!
"Hey," Tex said, patting her hand, "you'll see him soon enough. In the meantime, he's living it up big at my place. 'Course, we did have one slight difference of opinion over his bath."
Micki squeezed his hand hard. "Thank you."
His grin faded. "I wish I could say I rescued your Cessna the same way, but I'm afraid it's totaled. The storm must've rolled it a few times."
"You found the wreckage, then?"
"That's a long story." Tex perched on the side of her bed, keeping her hand tucked in his. "See, Dirk told me you guys had gotten back together and were driving to Key West for a romantic weekend. But when I checked your hangar, your bike was there, the plane was out, and someone had trashed your office."
"A break-in?"
"That's what I thought, at first. I was about to call the cops when those Ohio seniors came by looking for a scenic tour. We got to talking, and one thing led to another, and I showed them the photo of you and your folks—the one on your office wall. They swore the woman they saw being forced into a brown van on 62nd Street Gulf on Saturday morning was you."
"It was. I remember them."
"None of the puzzle pieces fit; the timing was all wrong. I checked Dirk's Key West reservation and no surprise, it was bogus—like everything else that came out of his mouth. So when Padre and I found Fizz miles from the Cessna wreckage, we knew Dirk had taken you, we just didn't know where."
"Bermuda," she announced, her brain pounding too much to play connect the dots much longer.
"Yeah, darlin'," he said with an affectionate grin, "Bermuda."
"Don't—"
"I know. But I'm probably always gonna, anyway."
Tex slid off the edge of the hospital bed but remained standing close, unwilling to let go of her hand. "Scariest part of all this? Dirk's plans were almost flawless. We'd never have found you if the Hamilton Police hadn't called. I kind of wish he was here right now... so I could introduce my fist to his face."
Micki lowered her gaze. "Dirk's dead."
"So I've been told," Tex said, nodding stonily. "Guess that lying two-faced SOB got what was coming, huh."
"Don't say that!" Her defense of Dirk surprised her even more than it surprised Tex. She drew a slow breath, finding sympathy, not resentment, for the man she remembered as both her lover and her friend. "In the end, Dirk did the right thing. He deserved to go to jail. He didn't deserve to die."
Tex relented grudgingly. "I'm sorry, Micki, I know you two were close."
Close. Like she and Luke had been 'close?'
She turned her face away on her pillow. The events of the last few days flipped through her head like a series of private flash cards, culminating with the single haunting image of Luke, stuck in that damn cave and looking up at her through the hole, the candor on his face—the truth in his voice—when he told her that he loved her.
Micki screwed her eyes shut against the onslaught of fresh emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. If he truly loved her, then how could he have just left her? It seemed she was right about not wanting to let herself fall for him. At least she hadn't spilled her heart; at least she hadn't told him that she loved him too.
Even if she did.
A quick squeeze to her hand and a light caress on her cheek brought her gaze back to Tex.
"Are you in pain? Do you want me to call a nurse?"
"No, I'm... okay."
"You sleep now, Micki, and tomorrow I'll take you home."
Home. They said that 'home was where the heart was,' but Luke had stolen her heart and taken it away with him. How could she ever go 'home' again?
Tex went to move away, but Micki refused to let go of his hand. "Sit with me, Tex? I don't want to be alone."
He faltered slightly, and she realized it was because up until a few short days ago, neither Tex nor any of the guys had heard her acknowledge vulnerability of any sort. Then he smiled gently, accepting this change in her as easy as that.
"Sure thing, Mick, I'll be right here."
Accepting Tex's promise and her new sense of self, Micki closed her eyes. She intended to rest, not sleep. With all that had happened, she doubted she would ever be able to sleep properly again. Not here. Not even at 'home.'
Not without Luke's arms around her.
***
If she kept her eyes closed, then it was easy to imagine that the warmth of the setting Florida sun was Luke's tender caress on her back. Sitting on the beach, with her face to the Atlantic Ocean and her toes digging into the white sand, Micki tried to let the gentle warmth fill the void of loss that had been eating at her for days. For years she had kept this insecurity at bay; she had shut it away behind her 'tough-as-any-man' exterior the night her parents died. Luke opened her to the world again by showing her that she didn't need to be tough to survive, she just needed to be herself.
And then he had abandoned her.
Luke.
Micki hugged her arms around her drawn up knees, suddenly cold despite the sun on her back. He had taken her only means of coping, and then left her alone and vulnerable. She had foolishly allowed herself to trust him, fall in love with him, and now that he was gone she felt betrayed.
Well, never again.
It would take time to rebuild her defenses, but she could do it. She had done it before. Somehow, the thought only deepened her black mood, rather than giving her the determination to rebuild as it had in times past, and she looked for distraction in the sand at her feet.
Behind her at
The Sandpiper's
outdoor tiki bar, a loud celebration was in full swing in honor of her safe return. Tex, Padre, and Tim had spared no expense in throwing her a welcome home party, complete with Mylar ribbons and balloons that were tied to bamboo torches and to the tiki bar itself. It looked more like Christmas in the tropics than a Thursday evening in August.