Morgan's Son (35 page)

Craig sat for a long time just watching Sabra sleep. Had she heard him? He'd quietly told her he loved her, but he wasn't sure if she'd understood. Dr. Parsons had warned him that the first twenty-four hours, Sabra would sleep a great deal, mostly due to the shock and trauma of the surgery, as well as getting rid of the anesthesia in her system.

He studied her fingers in the silence, looking at the wedding ring on her left hand. It was a fake one, of course, for the mission. She'd never taken it off even though their cover had been blown after the first day. Was that a fluke? Had she worn it for other reasons? His wistful side, which was working overtime lately, said that she wore it because she loved him, wanted him for her husband someday.

With a soft snort, Craig eased out of the chair and placed Sabra's limp hand across her blanketed form. The day was coming to a close, the sunlight streaming through the venetian blinds, creating bars on the opposite wall. The door opened and he looked up. Dr. Parsons gestured for him to come into the hall.

Outside, Craig noted that she was back in her blouse and slacks. He wondered briefly why Ann, who was certainly attractive, had never married. He knew little of her, knew little of the reasons why she'd gone to work for Perseus. Maybe Morgan had known her before he'd formed the company.

"I just got a call from Jake," Ann said, walking with him down the long hall, "and he wants all of us to come back as soon as possible. I told him Sabra needed another twenty-four hours before she could be moved."

"I don't think it's safe to stay here," he agreed, his gaze constantly roving up and down the hall. When Killian wasn't keeping guard on Sabra's room, he was. They took turns every twelve hours to ensure that Garcia wouldn't get to her and finish the job. Nowhere was safe.

"Jake is worried about that, too," Ann continued in a low voice. She clasped her hands behind her back as she walked. "The FBI has apparently found a leak in the
Maui
police department." She traded a frown with him. "Sam Chung is a mole for Garcia."

Groaning, Craig halted and thrust his hands onto his hips. "We stepped right into the middle of it, didn't we?"

"Yes, you did. Jake said to tell you that you did a good job. He's as relieved as we are that Sabra's going to recover. Right now, the
Honolulu
police are investigating Chung. They placed a wire tap on his phone and monitored several calls to Garcia's estate. It's a good thing you never went back to the Westin. Jake thinks they were waiting for you."

Grimacing, Craig nodded. "We just kept moving around, Ann. A different room every night, under different names. It worked, thank God."

She smiled absently and halted in the middle of the hall. "Listen, I know you've got a lot on your shoulders right now…."

"What do you mean?"

With an embarrassed smile, Ann said, "With Sabra, I mean. You do care for her, don't you? At the crash site I saw the look on your face, heard the tone of your voice…."

"Yes," Craig rasped heavily, "there's something there, Ann. But I don't want it all over the place. I haven't even had time to talk to Sabra. I don't need gossip floating around."

Touching his arm, she said, "If Killian suspects anything, he's keeping it to himself. It's just that I saw the look in your eyes…"

Crossing his arms, he leaned against the wall and studied her. "What are you leading up to?"

"Sabra is going to need some care when we get her back to the mainland. I thought…well, since you do care for her, that perhaps she could stay at your apartment for a couple of weeks. That artery in her neck was partly severed. We've sewn it back together, and all should go well, but she has to really take it easy. If she should fall, or make some kind of quick, jerking motion, she could rip it open again and—"

"I understand," he rasped. What would Sabra say to such a plan? he wondered. "What if she doesn't want me to play nursemaid?"

"Then she'll have to stay in the hospital for the next week, and have a full-time nurse for the week after that."

"I see. Well, let me ask her, okay? I don't take anything for granted anymore."

She nodded thoughtfully. "Just let me know. I'll have to call an ambulance once we land back in
Washington
. Listen, I've got to go check on Laura now. She's got me worried."

Laura was looking extremely thin and nervous, Craig agreed silently. "She looks like she's ready to break."

"I know," Ann whispered, frowning. "I hate to prescribe more tranquilizers for her, but I don't know how long she can go on this way. She's lost ten pounds so far, and she's eating next to nothing. She doesn't sleep, and when she does nap, she gets nightmares about the rape."

He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Take it from someone who knows about nightmares. Just let her talk. It helps a lot."

Gratefully, Ann reached out and touched his arm. "Thanks, Craig. I hope Sabra knows what she has."

Stymied by that last comment, Craig watched the physician hurry down the hall toward the elevators. With a sigh, he turned and went back to Sabra's room. It was his turn to watch her. Not that he minded. He really didn't want to be anywhere else, anyway. He hoped Sabra felt similarly. A part of him waited in anxious frustration for when she'd be completely conscious so that they could talk. Would Sabra want to stay at his apartment and allow him to help her through her next two weeks of recovery?
He'd
never wanted anything more. But what did Sabra want?

"You look a hundred percent better this morning," Craig exclaimed, greeting Sabra with a smile. He'd just gotten up after sleeping deeply for six hours, and Killian had given up his post outside her hospital door in exchange for a hot cup of coffee.

Sabra gazed up at Craig as he approached her hospital bed. It was 8:00 a.m., and the nurse had awakened her to give her some medication. He had recently showered and shaved and was dressed in a bright purple-and-white Hawaiian print shirt, stuffed haphazardly into a pair of tan chinos. She hungrily absorbed the sight. "I like your new fashion," she teased weakly, her voice rough from disuse.

Craig stopped and looked down at his shirt. "Oh, this—yeah," he murmured, touching it with his hand, "I was in a hurry to get some clean clothes, so I bought the first thing this Hawaiian lady thought I'd look good in, at a shop just outside the hospital." He grinned, a little embarrassed. "Think purple's my color?"

"It looks good on you." She wanted to say he looked good in everything—and nothing.

When Craig saw the corners of her mouth lift slightly, his heart took a powerful leap in his chest. Halting at the edge of the bed, he placed his cup of coffee on the nightstand.

"That looks good, too," she noted hopefully.

"What? The coffee?"

"Yes."

He grinned a little, drowning in her clear, gray eyes, in the warmth spinning in their depths. This morning Sabra wasn't so pale. She was completely conscious, and inwardly, he heaved a huge sigh of relief. Resting his hands on the bar along the bed, he said, "So you're getting hungry?"

"Starved," Sabra admitted wryly.

"When did you wake up?"

"The nurse got me up to take some medication about half an hour ago."

Craig couldn't help himself. Reaching out, he gently stroked her hair, which needed to be combed. He watched as her lips parted softly at his touch. To hell with it. Leaning over, he captured her mouth with his own. Never had she felt so good to him, her lips pliant beneath his, giving as well as taking—a far cry from two days ago, when she'd lain cool and nearly lifeless. Gently, he moved his lips against hers, tasting her, giving back to her, breathing into her his urgent desire for her not only to live, but to gather strength from him. They were wet and warm beneath his, and he felt her weakly lift her hand to place it on his shoulder. Though he longed to deepen the exploration, Craig cautioned himself. A fire of aching need grew in his lower body. The urgency to wrap Sabra around him and love her slowly and thoroughly, nearly caused him to lose control.

As Craig eased his mouth from hers, he opened his eyes and stared down into her lustrous gray ones. The words
I love you,
were almost torn from him, but he bit them back for now. Giving her a slight smile, he rasped, "Welcome back, sweetheart. I was so scared I was going to lose you…."

Shaken, Sabra felt Craig wrap his hand around hers. "The nurse told me I almost died," she quavered, absorbing his nearness and warmth. The burning look in his eyes was unmistakable, and Sabra knew the feeling she had flowing through her was love. Real love. Swallowing against a dry throat, she added, "I don't remember much, Craig…."

With a grimace, he straightened up and continued to hold her cool hand in his. "Maybe it's just as well. I'm sure it will all come back to you soon enough."

"Jason?"

"He's fine. Laura's here, too. They visited you yesterday, but you were still coming in and out of consciousness."

"I remember voices." She smiled weakly. "I remember your voice and your touch, though."

"That's a good sign," Craig said, heartened. Gathering what was left of his courage, he said, "Today Dr. Parsons wants to fly all of us home, including you. She says you can travel. There's only one slight problem."

"What?" Sabra saw the darkening in his eyes and heard reservation in his voice.

"She says you need two weeks of rest and close watching. With that artery mending, you can't be doing the normal things you'd do at home by yourself."

Wrinkling her nose, Sabra muttered, "I won't stay in a hospital, Craig."

Giving her a hopeful look, he placed his hand on top of hers. "Would you settle for my place? For me helping you out when you need help?"

Stunned, Sabra stared up at him. She saw the hope in his eyes and saw him trying to steel himself for her rejection. The idea shocked her only from the standpoint that she'd never in her wildest dreams have expected such an offer. "Well," she stammered, "can—can you stand me underfoot for two weeks?"

Heartened, Craig rasped, "Sweetheart, I want you around for a lot longer than two weeks. I don't want to push you into what I want, though. This is your call."

If only they weren't here, in a busy hospital. Sabra's smile was tremulous with emotion. "If you'll have me, I'll come home with you…."

On the way home in the jet, Sabra dozed. The gurney was in the rear of the plane, in a special area where it could be locked into the bulkhead, much like a seat. Dr. Parsons had come back to check the IV drip, had arranged her blankets to make sure she was comfortable, then had gone forward to be with Laura, Jason, Killian and Craig. Somewhere below was the
Pacific Ocean
, but Sabra couldn't see much from her makeshift bed. The vibration of the jet surrounded her, and this time it was a lulling sensation.

She watched through half-closed eyes as Jason huddled in Laura's arms. He seemed the least affected by the trauma they'd survived, but Sabra worried for the child, who seldom left his mother's side. More than once she'd heard Jason ask where his daddy was and seen Laura wrestle with an appropriate answer that gave some of the truth, but not enough to shake the boy up.

One of the two pilots came back, making his way through the narrow cabin. Sabra liked him. He was a hard-looking ex-Air Force fighter pilot by the name of Sloan MacKinley. The coffeepot was near her bed, and he nodded in her direction as he stopped and poured two cups of coffee.

"You want any, Sabra?"

She smiled a little. "No, thanks…."

He turned and studied her, both cups of coffee in hand. "You look a little lonely back here. Maybe I ought to get someone to keep you company?"

"That's okay…." Sabra was amazed that MacKinley, who had a rough-hewn face, possessed such sensitivity. But why should it surprise her that some men had this sort of intuitive knowing? Craig possessed it, though at the moment, he was exhausted and sleeping in his seat. She didn't blame him for not realizing how lonely she felt. Looking up into MacKinley's narrowed green eyes, she saw care radiating from them. He was a relatively new employee with Perseus, and she knew little about the man. But then, Sabra realized that those who joined Morgan's organization usually had a lot to hide, one way or another.