Love Inspired Suspense July 2015 #2 (15 page)

Whatever label his mental illness took on wouldn't save him from the punishment he was due. For that, Sami was grateful.

Sami rubbed at a kink in her neck. “It wasn't all me, sir. We wouldn't have captured Kraft if not for Dre...uh, Inspector Kelley.”

With Sami and Drew's statements and that of Dr. Cantwell, Corben Kraft was going to prison for the rest of his life. Though his incarceration wouldn't bring back those who'd lost their lives at his hand, there was peace in knowing Corben wasn't free to kill again.

Granger nodded. “Too true. I've spoken to his superintendent, praising the inspector's efforts. You both deserve commendations for apprehending Kraft.”

“Thank you, sir, but that's not necessary for me. I was doing my job.” Drew, however, had taken a bullet in the shoulder and for that he deserved a medal of valor, a parade...a kiss.

It had been several hours since she'd seen Drew loaded aboard the ambulance and whisked away. The paramedics had been optimistic that the wound wasn't fatal, but she needed to know for herself that he was okay. She glanced at her watch. The last time she called the hospital, she'd been told he was in surgery.

“Sir, I would like to request permission to go to the hospital and check on Inspector Kelley. He should be out of surgery by now.”

“Of course,” Granger said. “I'm sure Inspector Kelley would be happy to learn that Corben is safely behind bars.”

“Yes, sir.”

She turned to leave.

“Samantha,” Granger called, halting her steps.

She pivoted. “Sir?”

“I thought you'd be interested to know that the Legat in Vancouver has announced his retirement.”

“Okay, thank you.” Though she wasn't sure why he'd think she'd be interested. It wasn't as if she had the qualifications to apply for the position.

She hurried from the building and hailed a taxi. Once settled in the back passenger seat, she mulled over Granger's comment. With the legal attaché retiring, there would be an opening in the FBI's Vancouver sub office. It was an interesting thought, and maybe in a few years, say in ten or so, she'd be qualified for such a post. But it would be highly unlikely that the new Legat would be ready to vacate the position so she could step into it.

She pushed the notion out of her head as the cab stopped at the front entrance of the Detroit Medical Center. She paid the driver, then walked through the sliding glass doors.

Immediately, she was assaulted with the sounds, the smells of a hospital. Her steps faltered as a terrifying awareness slammed into her. Once again she was visiting someone she cared about, wounded in the line of duty. Who was she kidding? What she felt for Drew went deeper. She loved him.

Anxiety twisted in her chest, making her jittery. The knowledge that she'd fallen in love with Drew simmered in her mind as she forced her feet to move. At the administration desk she was directed to Drew's room on the fourth floor. She found the stairs and hurried up them as if being chased. In a way she was. She had no idea what to do about her feelings for Drew.

With each step the hurdles that stood between them battered at her brain. She lived in Oregon. He lived in Vancouver, BC. She worked for the FBI. He was a Royal Canadian Mountie. Their jurisdictions were far apart, too far for any sort of relationship to last. And she wouldn't ask him to give up his life, his career. Nor could she give up hers, because if either one of them made such a drastic move, she was sure resentment would follow and ruin whatever chance they would have of happiness.

But knowing all the obstacles didn't keep her heart from wanting to be with him. If only she could tell him that she...what? That she'd let him into her heart? That she loved him with an unbridled love that she'd never experienced before, but she couldn't foresee a future with him?

No, she wouldn't be so cruel as to tell him that she loved him. It was better to part as friends and colleagues. She would leave emotion out despite the ache it caused her.

At the nurses' station on the fourth floor, she asked about Drew's prognosis. Because she wasn't family, she had to flash her badge in order for the nurse to relay any information. The nurse told her that Drew had come through the surgery and was expected to make a full recovery. A giant weight lifted off her chest as she made her way to his room.

She halted in the doorway. Drew lay still in the bed with a light blue blanket covering his legs and leaving his chest bare, except for the large white bandage wrapped around his shoulder. A stark reminder of how close he'd come to dying. Twice.

Her breath stalled in her chest and expanded until she thought her ribs might burst apart.

His dark lashes splayed against his cheeks. His dark hair was mussed and a shadow deepened the contours of his unshaven jaw. Monitors beeped, showing his heart rate, his pulse. A bag hung from a hook on a pole and dripped into the IV attached to the back of his hand.

He looked so vulnerable, defenseless, lying there exposed. Her heart crimped painfully inside her chest. She wanted to go to him, to smooth away the lock of hair that had fallen over his forehead. She wanted to take his hand in hers and hang on for dear life.

But she couldn't. It wouldn't be fair to him. Or to herself. A clean break was better. She could communicate her gratitude via email or text. Hating herself for her cowardice, she turned away, intending to slip quietly out of his life, though she knew he'd never be far from her mind.

“Don't leave me.”

Drew's slurred words jerked her gaze back to him and seared clean through her. His eyes were open, though his pupils were large and unfocused. He was on pain medication and groggy from his surgery. He couldn't know the impact those three words had on her.

He gave her a lopsided grin that made her female senses hum. Swallowing her trepidation, she moved to his side with an answering smile that she hoped didn't waver despite the tears of regret for what would never be gathering inside of her.

“Hey there,” she said. “I didn't mean to disturb you. You need your rest.”

“You could never be a bother, but you definitely disturb me.”

“What?” Her voice came out in a high-pitched croak. What did that mean?

His grin deepened. “You're so pretty, especially when you're flustered.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”

He wagged his eyebrows. “Yes, really.”

Though the smart thing would be to back away from his charming magnetism, she stayed rooted to the floor. “You should be resting, not poking fun at me.”

“I will rest now that you're here.” His fingers groped for her hand.

Unwilling to deny him, she threaded her fingers through his. A fat tear escaped and rolled down her cheek. Stupid emotions. She was supposed to be strong, not weepy. But for some reason she couldn't muster up enough strength to stop the flow of tears.

Drew's brow creased. “Why are you crying? We got him, didn't we?”

Despite her inner turmoil, she nodded and forced some semblance of self-control. “We did.” She told him what was happening with Corben and where he would be going.

“Then why are you sad?”

There he went again. Perceptive, as ever. She struggled to find the right words. “I was so scared when I heard that last gunshot. I—” Her throat closed, trapping her in thoughts of all the horror they'd gone through.

Finding body after body, chasing down a psychotic killer, trapped with an explosive device and then confronted with a madman wielding a gun was more than most people encountered in a lifetime, let alone the course of several days.

Recalling the sight of Drew wrestling with Corben for possession of the weapon made sweat break out on her brow. She'd never been so terrified of losing anyone.

“Hey, it's okay. I'm fine.” He squeezed her hand. “I know how hard it must be for you to come here. I know you don't like hospitals.”

She wiped at her tears with her free hand. “No, I don't. Ever since Ian's injury.” She bit her lip, reliving that moment when she'd entered his room and seen the damage done to his leg. A career-ending injury that could have been avoided if she hadn't allowed their relationship to turn personal.

A little voice inside of her whispered that she'd let her relationship with Drew turn personal and they'd both survived.

But things could have easily turned out differently, she argued.

Drew gave her a look that could have curdled milk. “Excuse me, but I'm not Ian. And this—” he gestured with his chin toward his wounded shoulder “—isn't the end of my life nor my career.”

“Thank God for that,” she said, meaning it. She'd prayed for His protection over them and He'd kept them alive. But she was afraid to count on God again. What if next time—

“Exactly.” Drew's intense gaze made her feel slightly off balance. “Faith will see us through.”

She wanted to believe him with every fiber of her being. But she was a realist. They didn't have a future together. And prolonging the inevitable was torture. “I should go and let you sleep.”

His eyelids fluttered. “I'd rather you stayed.”

“There's still a great deal of red tape to sort through, so I don't know if I'll be able to get back here. Both of our countries want to prosecute Corben.”

Drew's eyes closed all the way. “Your collar.”

She was glad he couldn't see the tears again gathering in her eyes. He was so selfless, so caring. A man of honor and integrity. Her heart ached with loss. Though she couldn't resist leaning in to place a kiss on his lips, imprinting this moment in her mind.

“Hmm,” he murmured, drowsily. “Nice.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For everything.”

His even breathing told her he'd fallen asleep. She backed away until she hit the door. “Goodbye,” she breathed out, feeling as if a part of her was dying.

She turned and fled.

* * *

Sami's cell phone rang, jerking her to awareness. She was at the airport, waiting to board a plane heading back to Portland, Oregon. Corben had been transported via a heavily armed escort to Colorado. Granger had gone along to finish the processing at the prison. Sami was free to go home.

Only she didn't feel right leaving with Drew still in the hospital.

But she'd made her choice. She couldn't keep hanging on to him. She couldn't pretend that there was a future where they ended up together.

She shifted in the hard plastic seat of the waiting area and dug her phone out of her pants pocket. “Agent Bennett here.”

“Agent Bennett, uh, Sami, this is Sergeant Kelley, Drew's father.”

She sat up. “Hello, sir.” Her mind reeled. Had something happened to Drew? Had he had a relapse? Her pulse pounded in her ears. “Is there a problem?”

“No, I don't think so.” Yet he sounded concerned. “I wanted to talk to Drew's doctor about his prognosis and when he would be discharged, but the hospital wouldn't release information to me over the phone.”

“Did you try calling Drew's room?” She stood and picked up her small bag. Her feet were moving away from the gate before she'd even realized she'd made the decision she wasn't leaving Detroit. Not without Drew.

“I did, but he's been groggy and unhelpful. All he wants to talk about is you.”

Surprise washed over her. She wasn't sure how to respond. “Uh, well, sir, I'm on my way to the hospital. I'll call you from there once I know more.”

“I would appreciate it,” he said. “And please call me Patrick.”

“Patrick it is, then,” she said as she left the airport terminal and got in line for a taxi. She told the attendant where she wanted to go. He waved the next taxi forward and she climbed inside.

“Sami, my son has been hurt in the past,” the older man's voice dropped an octave. “We both have.”

A vice-like clamp squeezed over her heart. “Drew told me about his ex-wife. And a little about his mother.”

“She walked out on us when he was just a boy,” Patrick said. “It was hard on him. On us.”

Fresh tears pricked her eyes and she hurt for Drew and Patrick. “I can only imagine.”

“Yes, well, it left scars.” He cleared his throat. “Drew is very taken with you. He doesn't trust easily. And I sense you're different.”

His words eased the pressure around her heart and tenderness flooded her. “I care for him, too.”

“But do you love him?”

The pointed question rammed into her like a fist. She swallowed back the fear that reared up, making her want to cut off this conversation.

Drew had told her that faith would see them through. Could faith, could God, make a way for them to have a future, too? Was she brave enough to take a chance?

“Sami?”

She squared her shoulders and faced the truth. She never backed down from a challenge or a fight. And Drew was worth fighting for. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

“Good.”

And it was good. She had no idea how the future would work out. Maybe that was for the best. She'd have no preconceived ideas or expectations. All that mattered now was telling Drew how she felt. And pray he felt the same.

* * *

Three days later, after surgery to remove the bullet lodged in his shoulder and another round of stitches in his back, Drew was discharged from the Detroit hospital. He'd called his dad, who'd said he'd fly in to get him. He'd been given scrubs to wear home. After helping him into the shirt, the nurse, thankfully, left him to finish dressing himself.

He'd already given his statement to the local police and the federal agents from his hospital bed. Sami had come to see him right after the surgery. He'd been too medicated for any real conversation that he could recall, so he had no idea when he'd see her again. He did remember she looked tired, and maybe sad, but his memory was a bit fuzzy. He did know that. Corben was behind bars. They'd put an end to his killing spree.