Love On The Line (3 page)

It was moments like these that Noah hated how well his job had shaped his ability to read unspoken cues, because Dr. Fisher’s body language sucked in the I’ve-got-good-news department. “Well, you’ll have to talk to the surgeon for the specifics,” he started, but Noah cut through with an impatient roll of his good hand.

“Best guess,” he prompted, and it wasn’t a question.

“Up to two weeks for partial mobility, and if physical therapy goes well, you could be back to active duty in as little as eight weeks.”

The shock of the words reverberated through Noah’s already aching chest. “Eight weeks,” he echoed, and seriously, this couldn’t be happening. It might as well be eternity. And with how by-the-book Lieutenant Martin was, especially when it came to keeping his detectives right, Noah would do every damned day of the eight week sentence.

Dr. Fisher nodded, looping his stethoscope around his neck. “The first few weeks are the most crucial. Do you have anyone to assist you with day-to-day care?”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Noah snapped, and really, could insult and injury plot against him any frigging harder?

Dr. Fisher held up his hands, likely sensing Noah’s boiling point was less than a degree away. “I understand. But with that arm immobilized and the pain management schedule you’re likely to be on, driving will be out of the question, and things like cooking and general care will be difficult.”

The only people Noah had any sort of relationship with were his brothers, all three of whom lived eight hundred miles away, and his partner, whose work ethic rivaled Noah’s own. And no way was he going to ask any of them to come whip up some meals and count out his pain pills for him, anyway. “I’ll figure it out. Thanks, doc.”

“You’re welcome.” Dr. Fisher moved toward the door, his tennis shoes squeaking on the scuffed linoleum. “Your partner is down the hall, if you’re up for a visitor. But only for a few minutes. You’re likely to wear out quite easily after all you’ve been through.”

“Sure. Yeah.” Noah knew better than to think Jason would take no for an answer no matter what the doc said, but only because it would be the exact same way if the situation were reversed.

As if to illustrate the point in Technicolor 3D, the door to Noah’s room had no sooner swung shut than it rebounded open again, with Jason moving solidly through the industrial metal frame.

“Hey, man. You look like shit.” The sunken shadows under Jason’s normally bright eyes, coupled with the wrinkled shirt and two days’ worth of light brown stubble peppering his jawline made the comment a two-way street.

“Back atcha, jackass. You been sleeping in those clothes or what?”

“Yeah,” Jason admitted, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt just like he always did when he was jittery. “You kind of scared the crap out of everybody, Sleeping Beauty.”

              “It’s going to take a little more than some lead to the arm and some wonky meds to knock me out of the game.” Okay, so it was wishful thinking, at least for the next eight weeks, but Noah wasn’t ready to go there yet. He pegged Jason with a stare, trying his best to ignore the pain currently nailing itself from his shoulder to his elbow. “So what happened? The last thing I remember is going to follow up that lead, but after that, I’ve got nothing.”

             
Jason’s head snapped up. “You don’t remember any of it?”

             
“Not yet.” Noah dropped his eyes on the guise of checking out the IV in his hand. “Doc says it might take a little while. Anesthesia, trauma, blah, blah, blah. You want to help me out?”

Jason didn’t answer, but instead took his sweet time dragging the world’s ugliest pink and gray chair over to the bedside. “I don’t know if I can, really. Not with the part you’re forgetting. Sands gave chase about four seconds after we rolled up on him. You got the jump on
him going around a corner, but the shooter was on the other side. I never saw the guy, and Sands is in the wind.”

Noah’s gut dropped like a chunk of old cement. “Which means I’m the only witness.”

Jason nodded. “The investigation’s still open. As soon as the doc clears you to make a statement, you will. Until then, you know the deal. Martin wants to go completely by the rules to nail this bastard, whoever he is, and frankly, so do I.” The unspoken implication hung between them, heavy enough to cling to the air.

             
“So I’m out of the loop until I remember what happened,” Noah finished with a chill, but Jason didn’t even blink.

             
“’Fraid so. No details, no coming into the station, no work of any kind until your ass is well enough to get out of that bed and you can ID the guy who did this. So do us all a favor and rest up, wouldja?”

             
Silence settled into the spaces around them, and a nurse came in to check Noah’s vitals and put a syringe full of something into his IV. Despite his desire to tumble his thoughts around until something popped out of his memory and stuck, Noah’s eyes drifted closed. His brain still felt like its main ingredient was cotton candy, and okay, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to just take a little siesta to let his gray matter re-boot a little.

             
Noah breathed deeply, and the scent of coconut oil and strong, hot sunshine filled his senses.

             
“Hey.” He forced his eyes open to fix them on his partner, but the move took a lot more effort than a few minutes ago. “Has anyone else been in here to see me?”

             
Jason nodded. “Lieu and a couple of the guys were here last night, but you were pretty out of it. I’m not surprised you don’t remember much.”

“No, not the guys. A…woman.” Pale blue eyes, hair so soft, Noah wanted to tangle his fingers in it and feel it on his bare, hot skin.

“A woman?” Jason chuffed out a surprised laugh. “Now I think you’re dreaming, dude.”

The details swirled together in his head, bouncing around in snips and splashes from the past. Counting down from ten, the impulsive stroke of his mouth on the woman’s, the deep, sexy taste of surprise on her lips, the bolt of the same on his own when she kissed him back…

All at once, his over-full brain made the elusive connection, but as meticulous as he was about storing away even the smallest details, surely Jason had it right. Noah had to have dreamt the woman at his bedside.

No way would Violet Morgan have been in the hospital. After all, she’d hated his guts for the last two years. And for many more reasons than either of them would ever admit to her brother.

CHAPTER THREE

              Violet pressed her back against the stainless steel door in the ladies room at Brentsville Hospital, letting the coolness seep through the thin cotton of her peasant shirt even though it did little to calm her.

             
She had to be out of her mind.

             
Okay, so she’d shown up at the hospital strictly to bring her brother some breakfast, since he’d flat-out refused to go home last night. Not that Violet had expected anything less, really. Jason’s dedication to his job and everything surrounding it bordered on the ridiculous, which wasn’t such a bad thing on the surface. But since the same bone-deep devotion that had gotten their father killed in a situation just like this one, yeah. As far as she was concerned, ridiculous pretty much covered it.

Violet hugged the paper bag full of breakfast burritos and assorted fruit to her chest, where it gave up a heavy crinkle. She’d meant to get Jason’s attention, drop off the food, make sure all was well, and go— God, being back in this hospital, even for a few minutes, gave her the shakes. But the charge nurse said she’d just missed him. The last thing Violet had wanted to do was dawdle in the hallway, or worse yet, the claustrophobic, chest-pressing space of the waiting room. The nurse had assured her Noah was still sleeping off his anesthesia. What harm could it do to just slip in, leave a quick note for Jason with the food, and get herself out of there?

              She hadn’t counted on Noah actually waking up in the thirty seconds she’d planned to spend in the room. And she
really
hadn’t counted on him opening up those steely gray eyes and fixing them on her with enough vulnerability to knock the last grab of breath from her chest. Noah Blackwell was a gruff and tough career cop, all serious, all the time, from his badge to his boots. But just for that moment, the look on his face had suggested something else.

And like a coward, she’d called for the doctor and run.

              The main door to the ladies’ room pushed open on a heavy creak, reminding Violet that she was standing outside a bathroom stall with enough breakfast items for half a dozen people clutched to her chest. She straightened and moved toward the bank of sinks and mirrors, her charm bracelet giving up a soft jingle as she ran a hand over her two hastily plaited braids. She’d have plenty of time to fix her messy hair later. Right now, she just wanted to do what she’d come to do and get back to her kitchen.             

Violet retraced her steps over the well-paced tile, setting her shoulders to rights. Relief whooshed through her lungs when she saw Jason standing outside Noah’s room, talking to Lieutenant Martin and a white-coated man wearing pale blue scrubs and an overly sober look on his face. She shifted her weight from one lipstick-red ballet flat to the other, counting the seconds until the men exchanged handshakes and parted ways.    
             

             
“Hey!” Jason’s tired face brightened a degree when he turned and saw her, erasing the deep creases of worry from a few minutes ago. “What’re you doing back here?”

             
Violet leaned in to give him a quick hug before passing him the bag. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, and the sludgy coffee in the waiting room doesn’t count.”

             
“Ah, you’re a lifesaver.” Jason popped open the bag for a quick glance, his features falling into a grin. “Breakfast burritos. Nice.”

             
“Yeah, I know they’re your favorite. Plus, I thought you might need some protein to keep your energy up.”

             
His grin turned teasing, and God, it was infectious. “There’s enough food in here for half the squad.”

             
“What can I say? I’m a chef. We don’t go small when we’re feeding people.” Not that Violet would admit that she’d been in her kitchen since o’dark-thirty, chopping, scrambling and baking everything in her path because the food had been the only thing to calm her. She smoothed her hand over the front of her jeans twice. “So, um. How’s Noah?”

             
Jason’s expression revealed nothing at the question, another cop trick Violet detested. “Awake. Or he was for a little while.”

             
She tasted the
I know
on her tongue, pressing it to the roof of her mouth until it dissolved like spun sugar. “Good. That’s good.” A nurse rushed in the opposite direction, uttering the words “code red” and calling for a doctor in clipped, precise tones, and yeah, it was definitely time to go. “Okay, so let me know if you need anything else.” She turned toward the exit, the bright green arrow marking the stairwell enticingly within sight.             

             
But Jason stopped her mid-step. “Actually, I might.”

             
“You might? Or you do?” Violet pulled her brow in concern. Whatever it was had to be pretty major, otherwise why would he be looking at her like he’d just swallowed a handful of thumbtacks?

              “I do,” he said, but didn’t follow it up, as if he wanted to let the words sink in before elaborating. “But it’s a little complicated.”

             
The look on his face didn’t let up, and Violet stepped forward, squeezing his forearm. “Try me.”

             
“Noah had kind of a rocky reaction to the anesthesia when he had surgery this morning, and the pain medication is making him a little…forgetful.”

             
A prickle ghosted up the back of Violet’s neck, followed by confusion. “But he’s awake.”

             
“He was awake for a while, yes. The doctor thinks his foggy memory is temporary, kind of a combination of the medicine and the, ah. Trauma.” Jason dropped his voice over the last word, but it scraped at Violet all the same. “Even though he should pull through just fine, Lieu and I are still worried about it.”

             
“You should be,” Violet said, unable to help the hard edge coloring her words. God, the job was so dangerous. “He got shot, Jason.”

             
Her brother’s eyes went from soft to serious in less than a breath. “Believe me, I know. I was there.”

             
Guilt licked through her, forcing her gaze wide. “I’m sorry, Jay. I just…after what happened with dad, it scares me.”