Seized (Hostage Rescue Team Series, #7) (8 page)

Sometimes he even volunteered to wash the kitchen floor after, or help Mr. Decker and Danny with the animals. Anything that allowed him to stay in that warm, safe environment for a little while longer before he had to walk home to the cold, rigid home he shared with his controlling father.

“Okay,” he said, already feeling warmer inside at the thought of going there instead of home.

Danny gave him a friendly slap on the shoulder and they walked out of the trees together. At the fork they turned right, taking the path that would lead to the Decker’s place. Sawyer’s second home, but the one place where he felt welcome.

The only place he’d ever felt truly loved.

“Dude, you’re zoning out on me. You okay?”

Schroder’s words yanked him out of the bittersweet memory. These days he chose to remember the good times with Danny, instead of dwelling on the bad. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Well, we always knew you had thick skin,” the medic murmured as he pulled the thread taut on the next stitch. “This just confirms it.”

Sawyer grunted. “Okay, you’re enjoying this way too much, man.” Must be some weird medic thing.

The former PJ grinned but didn’t look up from his work, needle driver in one latex-gloved hand and a curved suture needle in the other. They’d chosen to use the bathtub for easy cleanup. Sawyer had ditched his ruined shirt in the trash and his chest and stomach were smeared with blood.

“Lucky for you, I’m handy with a needle and thread. And bonus that I’m not doing this while under fire. Means I can take the time to make the stitches all pretty for you. Pretty stitches make for pretty scars.”

He didn’t care if it was pretty or not, he just wanted to get the bleeding stopped so he could get to the nearest police station to give his statement then talk to Carmela, alone.

She sat up straight when someone knocked on the door. “Should I get that?”

“Yeah, sure,” Sawyer told her. Had to be one of the guys coming to check on him.

She went to the door and looked through the peephole before opening it. Through the open bathroom door he saw DeLuca stood in the opening, the brim of his Chargers cap pulled low enough to shadow the upper portion of his forehead, but Sawyer could already tell he was scowling.

“Hi,” Carmela murmured and stepped back.

“Hi.” After the terse greeting their commander walked past her and headed straight for the bathroom. He paused to lean against the doorframe and folded his arms over his chest, regarding the two of them with a stony expression. “What the hell happened?” he said to Sawyer.

Schroder shot him a
good luck, dude
look and kept on working. “Stumbled upon some kind of a drug deal gone bad in the parking lot stairwell,” Sawyer answered. “Guy had a switchblade.”

“And a pistol, I noticed,” DeLuca finished, his expression closed.

Oh yeah, the boss was pissed. Either he’d seen the SUV or one of the guys had already told him. “I left you a voicemail. But no, that was the other guy he’d been fighting with when we showed up. Evers and Blackwell are taking care of the SUV for me right now.”

“Yeah, that’s how I found out, I saw them in the underground parking.”

“I called you.”

“I know. I was in a meeting.” He sighed then jerked his chin at Sawyer’s shoulder and directed his next question to Schroder. “Well, Doc? What’s the prognosis?”

“Don’t think we’ll have to amputate,” he joked, pulling another suture through near the end of the gash. “All his shots are up to date, so no tetanus or anything to worry about and I’m gonna give him a shot of antibiotics once I’m done with this. Nineteen stitches in total, but only the upper four inches of the wound was deep. No nerve damage and he’ll still have full range of motion, but he’ll be sore for a few days. Wouldn’t recommend PT or anything for a bit. He’s mission ready if we need him though.”

DeLuca shifted that penetrating green gaze to Sawyer. One of the deadliest snipers in the world, and he still hadn’t lost that edge. All the guys respected the hell out of him, and he was a great guy to work under. “So you’re good?”

He nodded, made sure his gaze conveyed his certainty. “I’m good.”

DeLuca seemed relieved. He looked over his shoulder at Carmela, poised on the foot of the bed once more. “What about you?”

She blinked once in surprise. “I’m fine. Thanks. Not even a scrape.” Her gaze shifted to Sawyer and he saw gratitude there he wasn’t sure he deserved.

DeLuca’s attention shifted back to him again. “Heard you guys have already talked to the cops?”

“Yeah. They already interviewed us for the basics and their forensics people looked at the SUV. I promised we’d go down to the station to give our official statements as soon as Doc’s finished with me.”

“Which is in about five seconds,” Schroder answered, tying off the last stitch before cutting the thread. Sawyer glanced down. Nineteen neat, perfectly spaced stitches held the edges of his skin together. The whole area was still numb, but he could already see the swelling around it. He was going to be a hurting unit over the next couple days.

Schroder filled a syringe and turned to him with an evil grin. “Drop your drawers, soldier.”

“You just said my shots were up to date.”

“Yeah, well, this is antibiotics. Lose the pants, my friend.”

Sawyer scowled at him and undid his jeans, then rolled them and his boxers down a little on one side to expose the side of his hip. “That’s all you’re getting. Perv.”

“What, you shy with me all of a sudden? I’ve already seen everything you’ve got, more times than I wanted to, trust me.”

Sawyer’s lips twitched in a hint of a smile but he didn’t answer as Doc injected the antibiotics into the side of his ass. He barely felt the needle go in.

“Okay, you’re good to go.” Schroder slapped him on the right shoulder as he stood and Sawyer bit back a growl, narrowing his eyes at his teammate.

Dammit, once the freezing wore off in the stitches,
both
his shoulders were going to ache like a bitch. Sawyer hitched up his pants and did up the fly. This whole night had been one giant goatfuck so far. He just wanted this situation dealt with so he could talk to Carmela, see if he could smooth things over between them. He couldn’t stand this.

“Well, good news is as of right now, unless something comes up we’ve got mostly meetings for the next few days. Whatever exercises we do, if you’re not up to them, you tell me right away. Got it?” DeLuca told him.

He’d never jeopardize his teammates’ safety by taking part in an exercise or mission if he couldn’t physically handle it. But he wasn’t going to pussy out because of a few stitches and a possible tear in his rotator cuff, either. “Yes, sir.”

The affirmative response and respectful tone seemed to placate his boss. DeLuca nodded and straightened in the doorway. “You need a ride to the station?”

“Nah, but thanks.”

“Okay. You need anything else, let me know.
Before
you ask any of the guys next time,” he added with a pointed stare.

Sawyer inclined his head and hid a smile. “Will do.”

When DeLuca was gone Sawyer and Schroder cleaned up the bathroom and rinsed out the bloody washcloths in the tub. Another knock came at the door a few minutes later and Carmela answered, letting Tuck in.

The team leader handed Sawyer a fresh shirt and did his own visual inspection of the wound. Seeming satisfied with how things had been handled, he left. Sawyer put on the clean shirt, thanked Schroder for his help, and walked down to the lobby with Carmela.

She sat in the back seat beside him, didn’t say anything as the cab pulled away from the front of the hotel. The silence became uncomfortable so Sawyer filled it. “This shouldn’t take too long, hopefully. I’ll have you back to your hotel soon.”

She glanced over at him, her features illuminated by the rhythmic flicker of streetlamps they passed. “You sore?”

“Not yet. Still numb.”

She turned her head to look out the windshield. “I didn’t thank you yet, by the way.”

“For what?” Him putting her in a dangerous situation they’d been lucky to get out of with only a scratch? He definitely didn’t deserve thanks for that.

“For protecting me,” she finished softly, lowering her eyes to where her hands were wrapped around the purse in her lap. “So, thank you.”

He should never have allowed them to get into that kind of situation in the first place. “It was nothing,” he muttered instead, not wanting to talk about the incident when they had way more important things to discuss.

He couldn’t wait to get the damn police statement out of the way so they could get to what really mattered, starting with clearing the air between them once and for all.

––––––––

N
ow that the freezing had worn off, the wound in his shoulder was throbbing like a freaking toothache.

Sawyer sat beside Carmela at the station while they gave their official statements and answered more questions for the cops involved with the case. Officers had initially responded to the scene of the shooting a few minutes after Sawyer’s call from the SUV, and from the security camera footage they’d reviewed, they’d identified both suspects. Both were known to them.

Using mug shot photos, Sawyer and Carmela confirmed the identity of the two men they’d seen in the stairwell. After signing their statements and giving their contact information in case police required anything more, they were free to go.

Finally
, Sawyer thought, both dreading and welcoming the coming talk. He was sore and tense and not in the best frame of mind for this conversation, but it had to be done and it had to be now. And if she didn’t accept his reasoning about why they couldn’t be together, he’d have to tell her about Danny. That old wound that still festered inside him.

Outside the building Carmela headed for the curb, but Sawyer stopped her with a hand on her elbow. “Let’s grab a coffee or something,” he said. He could use the jolt of caffeine.

For a moment he thought she’d argue but then she nodded and walked beside him down the sidewalk. After what had happened earlier he was hyper-vigilant now, watching for any signs of possible danger. Even when they found a coffee shop and he was sitting in the corner with his back to the wall to provide the best sightline in the place, he still stayed alert.

Nobody was threatening Carmela’s safety again, and definitely not on his watch. Once was inexcusable enough.

She slid into the chair opposite him and wrapped her hands around the paper cup holding her skinny vanilla latte, the set of her shoulders tense. “So,” she murmured without looking up. “We going to do this now, then?”

“Yes.”

Her gaze lifted, that pretty golden brown stare locking with his and he felt that instant punch of connection again, deep in his gut. God, he’d missed her these past couple months. Even just talking, being free to contact her whenever he felt like it, the way things had been before. It was impossible for him to switch off his feelings for her. He just hoped he was hiding them well enough at the moment. Because if he gave her any indication at all about how he really felt for her and what he really wanted, they’d both be screwed.

Carmela was a determined woman. When she wanted something she went after it. If she sensed hesitation or any weakness on his part, she’d push until he gave in, and he couldn’t risk putting himself in that position because he was afraid what little resistance he’d managed to hold onto so far would crumble and he’d give in. He couldn’t afford to let that happen.

She straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin. “Okay. So. Where do you see us going from here? Because I can’t flip some invisible switch and pretend we’re back to being just friends now.” She shook her head, dark waves moving softly around her face. “I’ve tried and I just can’t do it.”

God, when she put it like that he felt even worse.

Under the scrutiny of that stare he struggled not to shift in his seat. His damn shoulder was now hurting enough to irritate him.

Here goes nothing.
He made himself look into her eyes as he spoke. “I’m sorry about what happened at the hospital. If I could go back and undo it—”

“Would you?” she demanded, anger and frustration in her gaze. “Do you really regret it that much?”

He wanted to lie, tell her yes, he regretted kissing her that day. But her unrelenting stare made it impossible. Even after all his years in SF and the countless foreign internal defense missions where he’d lived and worked with Afghan villagers and militias, he was still a shitty liar and couldn’t pull off a poker face to save his life.

He cleared his throat, tried to figure out what to say that might help salvage their relationship while keeping them firmly in the friend zone, all without hurting her more. God knew both of them were suffering enough right now as it was.

And no matter what, he couldn’t let her find out that he secretly craved her with every breath. He knew she’d never let it go if he did.

“I shouldn’t have done it. I crossed the line, and for that I’m sorry.”

She leaned back and folded her arms across her chest, then simply stared at him for a long moment, studying him. Weighing his words.

He tried like hell not to notice the way the pose pushed her breasts up and together, but he was only human. And her breasts were something he’d fantasized about more times than he cared to admit.

“Well I’m sorry you’re sorry. Because from where I was standing, at the time it didn’t feel like a mistake to me.”

No, it had felt fucking amazing, and that was the whole problem. He still remembered everything about that kiss. How she’d smelled, felt in his arms. How she’d tasted when she’d softened and melted against him, her lips parting for the stroke of his tongue.

God
. He floundered for something decisive and convincing to say, finally came up with, “Things wouldn’t have worked out between us anyway.”

She arched a brow in silent demand. “Really. You know this because...?”

Yeah, he really was going to have to say all this out loud. He sighed. “Because it would be too complicated.” The circumstances around it made a relationship with her impossible.