Taken by Surprise (27 page)

* * * *

"Agent down!" Jackson shouted over the mayhem as he groped desperately for something to use to staunch the blood seeping from the bullet hole in Christa's chest. He had watched her take the hit, seen her body jerk from the impact, and had been mere feet away. Too far to save her. Close enough to catch her when she stumbled back and fell.

It happened fast. Too fast. Martisha D'Estibar hadn't waited for zero hour. Mere seconds before the agents outside crashed the party, she'd pulled a gun seemingly out of nowhere, fired at point-blank range into Christa's chest. The single shot had unleashed a pandemonium of screams, orders, and answering gunfire, all of which Jackson scarcely registered in his fight to get to Christa.

"Get her." Christa's order came with surprising strength for a woman bleeding from her chest. "Don't let Martisha get away, Jackson."

"Stone's got her. I've got you. Come on, Christa, keep your eyes open. Keep them on me."

A flicker of a smile appeared at the corner of her lips. "Always did like looking at you, Slick. Should get rid of the blue hair, though. Liked you better dark."

"Yeah, so do I."

"Did we get them?"

In the ensuing chaos of the raid, he couldn't tell. He glanced up, took quick note of the agents’ and officers’ faces he recognized, of the bodies that scattered the floor. From the looks of things, the task force had taken over hosting the party. How many of the Phay Cartel and exactly who had managed to get away he didn't dare guess.

"We got them," he told her anyway, hoping beyond hope that it wasn't a lie. "Stay with me now. Paramedics are on the way."

"Gonna make it. Stop worrying, Slick."

Jackson chuckled. "You better."

"If I don't make it, tell Gosher—"

Jackson put a finger over her lips. "Shh, I can't because you swore you would stick around to hear what he had to say. Tell him yourself, later. Save your strength right now."

"You already knew."

"That you've got the hots for Gosher? I guessed. It's mutual, you know."

"Not submissive."

"Honey, five minutes alone with you and you'll have the guy on his knees begging to submit."

The brightness of her smile dimmed with pain. "Gosher, on his knees for me. I like that image. Think I'll hold it for a while."

"You do that."

She fell silent, but continued to breathe albeit labored, ragged. As long as she breathed, she stood a fighting chance at living.

Jackson held her, listening to that sign of life, praying it wouldn't stop.

Chapter Fourteen

Rhonda woke up. At first, she thought she imagined the whispering voices until she saw Lucas sitting in Michael's lap in a chair by her bedside. The sight filled her with hope, tangling with the love in her heart for both of them. Tears sprang to her eyes. She tried to blink them away before either of them noticed. She wasn't quick enough.

"Are you in pain?" Michael eased Lucas off his lap as he scooted forward in the chair, worry etched on his handsome face. "I'll get the nurse." He reached for the call button.

"Mom, what hurts?" Lucas echoed Michael's concern, his young face twisted with fear. His bottom lip trembled.

"I'm okay." She caught Michael's wrist before he could push the button to summon the nurse, reached out with her free hand for Lucas. "Nothing hurts." Seeing the disbelief in her son's eyes, she amended, "I have a headache. It's not so bad, though."

Lucas took her extended hand. "Then why are you crying?"

"I woke up and saw the two of you sitting there and…" Rhonda flicked her gaze to Michael, found him studying her intently, "it made me happy."

"You're getting all mushy, aren't you?" Lucas rolled his eyes. "Jeez, Mom, sometimes you're such a girl."

"I should hope so. I
am
a girl, silly. Come here." She tugged on his hand, pulling him onto the bed beside her.

"Are you sure you don't need the nurse?" Michael turned his hand in hers, lacing their fingers together.

"Positive." She swallowed, winced. "I could use some water, though. My throat is dry."

"I'll get you some." Lucas slid off the bed and dashed to the table on the opposite side of her bed. "The ice is all melted. I'll go get some more. Be right back."

"Lucas, wait." At her command, he halted with a foot already out the door. She lifted her head to look at him, ignoring the needlelike pain that pierced the left side of her forehead. "Can you do it by yourself?"

He gave her a withering look. "Of course, I can. I'm not a baby, Mom."

"So you keep reminding me," Rhonda muttered as he bolted out the door. She found the control for the bed, pushed the button to raise herself to a sitting position. "This laying around is going to drive me nuts."

Michael's lips twitched, but he didn't complete the smile. "The doctor plans to release you later this afternoon if you're feeling up to it."

"You bet I'm up to it. A couple of ibuprofen and a hair brush and I'm good to go." She glanced down at herself and grimaced. "Better add a change of clothes to the list, too."

"Already did." Michael tipped his chin to a suitcase on the floor by the bathroom door. "You mother brought it by earlier. She stayed for a while, but decided to give you some space after the doctor assured her you would be okay."

"I'll call her later." She squeezed his hand, cupped his cheek in her other palm. "I
am
okay." The glimmer of tears in his exotic eyes as he gazed at her tore at her heart.

He brought his free hand up, lightly touching the bandage on her head. "I thought…" His voice broke, and he swallowed, glanced away. "Jesus, Rhonda, I thought for certain he killed you."

"So did I." She remembered hearing the shots, seeing Phay's head explode a nanosecond before feeling the excruciating burn in her own head. The bullet had grazed the left side of her head, a fraction above and behind her left temple. The force of the impact had knocked her unconscious. She'd suffered a gaping wound that required several stitches, and a concussion.

"What is it you guys say? It's just a ding."

"When I think about—"

"Don't." She cut him off, holding a finger to his lips. "Phay is dead. We're all safe. It's over." She hesitated. "It
is
over, right?"

Michael nodded. "Martisha D'Estibar was killed in the takedown, as were a couple of her cohorts. Several others were taken into custody. I got word from Korbin Ziegler about an hour ago that Boran Roumduol and Atith Sovannarith were neutralized in the second raid to Phay's compound. With all the key players down and out, we've more than crippled the Phay Cartel this time."

"And the FBI agent, McIntyre?" The offered comfort she had seen in the agent's eyes in the first moments of her abduction would be forever etched in Rhonda's memory.

Michael sighed. "Still nothing. Stone won't give up until he gets something concrete."

Rhonda caught the derision in Michael's tone when he mentioned the FBI agent. It didn't surprise her in the least. "Remember when Tina Walker went berserk at the docks? She found out about McIntyre—we didn't know it was McIntyre back then—being undercover inside Phay's cartel. She found out that the FBI agent allowed her son to be kidnapped in order to draw out Ryan Magee in the hopes of catching Phay. She found out Cameron Stone knew about it all along and went along with the plan."

"Stone appears to have a habit of using innocent people as bait."

"You knew," Rhonda dared to point out. She didn't miss the bolt of anger in Michael's eyes. "You wanted Phay badly enough, even back then, to go along with Stone's plan."

"It's not the same."

"Isn't it?" When Michael simply stared at her, unspeaking, she slipped her hand around his neck to cup his nape and pulled him down to her. "Don't blame him," she said against his lips. "He did his job just as you did yours, as all the agents and cops involved did theirs."

She didn't close her eyes as he kissed her, nor did he close his. As their mouths opened, tongues meeting, seeking for reassurance of life, of passion and unity, their gazes remained locked. She saw his emotions settle, watched the cloud drift away until the exotic blue of his eyes that she had dreamed about for so long returned.

"Okay now?" she asked softly as he pulled back.

"Okay now," he repeated hoarsely, his gaze still dancing over her face. He settled back into the chair beside the bed, keeping the fingers of one hand laced with hers. His other hand rested next to her face, the thumb lightly caressing her cheek.

"Was anyone else hurt last night? I mean, any of the good guys?"

"Christa Hutchens, one of my agents. She took a bullet to the chest."

"Oh, God," Rhonda gasped. "Did she make it?"

"It was touch and go for a few hours. She spent most of the night in surgery. She's listed as critical, but she's one of the strongest women I know. She'll pull through." His gaze flicked to the door as it opened and Lucas walked back in. "Did you get lost?"

Rhonda bit back a grin at the scowl that marred Lucas's lips.

"Some nurse caught me halfway down the hall and insisted I should be with an adult if I was going to be out walking around." He fixed Rhonda a cup of ice water as he grumbled. "I told her I was just getting ice out of the machine for my mom, who's a patient here. Then she had to go and help me. I sure can't wait till I get taller. Maybe then everybody'll believe me when I tell 'em I don't need help."

Rhonda didn't tell her son he stood a very slim chance of being tall since Preston only stood an inch taller than her five-foot-seven frame.

"Did you do it?"

Rhonda started to ask,
Do what?
when she realized Lucas was talking to Michael. She took the cup her son offered her, casting a curious glance Michael's way.

Michael didn't meet her gaze. He patted his knee as Lucas came around the bed, waited for him to sit down. "Not time yet," he told the boy. "Why don't you tell your mom about the basket you found downstairs in the gift shop?"

Lucas's face lit up with undisguised excitement. "Oh, Mom, it's so cool! I know it's for sick kids, but it's got this Star Wars collectable ship in it…"

Rhonda listened to Lucas ramble on, chuckling to herself when she met Michael's sparkling gaze.
Did you do it
? She couldn't help but wonder what Lucas expected Michael to do while he was gone. She couldn't help but hope the first answer to spring to mind turned out to be the right one.

* * * *

Jackson drifted somewhere between sleep and consciousness. In this between-world state, Mallory sashayed into his office as she used to, dressed to stun with a sultry smile tilting her amazing lips. He met her halfway, creating the difference between the many other times she quietly closed his office door behind her and now.

He stopped within arm's reach of her, but didn't touch her. Instead, he locked his gaze with hers, making sure she saw the implications of his actions as he took off his tie, tossed it to the floor. Her amazing eyes widened, her deep breath audible as he yanked her against him only to feel her slump in his arms. Her beautiful face distorted in pain as she crumpled. Then he saw the blood…

Jackson came fully awake with a jerk. He blinked the room into focus, noting immediately the utilitarian white walls, the antiseptic scent, the faint sounds of beeping and breathing. He raked a hand down his face.

"Bad dream, Slick?" Christa asked weakly from the hospital bed.

"Bad something." He didn't bother to deny it. She tended to see right through him anyhow. "You're awake." He moved into the chair closest to the bed.

"For a minute or two, at least. Can't seem to stay coherent for longer than that right now."

"You need your rest. Are you in pain?"

She attempted a small laugh, but it morphed instantly into a moan. "Never took you for one to ask stupid questions."

"Yeah, I guess that was a pretty stupid thing to ask. Do you need me to get someone for you?"

She shook her head. "That nifty little pain IV over there'll drop some feel-good stuff into my veins anytime now, and I'll drift on back to la-la land. Scared me for a while there. Thought I might buy it."

"You? It's going to take more than a bullet to put you out, Mistress."

Her lips twitched. "You're a good man, Jackson. Maybe we'll get to work together again someday."

"I'd like that."

"When are you headed back?"

"Later today. I wanted to stick around, keep you company a while longer."

"Let me see it." The underlying command despite her labored strength made him lift a brow.

"See what?"

"Your cock. Take it out and stroke it for me."

Jackson was pretty sure she was playing around. Then again…

"Promise to stay awake long enough to watch?"

She managed a full-blown smile at that. "She is a lucky woman. If I was sure I could, I would promise you the world, Jackson Graham. Do me a different favor instead."

"Name it."

"When you think about her from now on, don't let what happened to me intrude. I got shot. Not your Mallory. That was me you held until the paramedics got there. Not Mallory. Remember that, and don't let your imagination tell you anything different."

"Yeah, okay," Jackson said thickly. "Now it's your turn."

"Better hurry, I think I'm headed back to sleepy land."

"Tell him, and make sure you stick around long enough to hear his answer."

"Yeah, okay," she said dreamily. "Have to wait till out of here. Can't stick around long enough to hear self speak, much less answer."

Jackson smiled to himself as she drifted off. He looked up when the door opened, held a finger to his lips as Gosher stepped inside.

"She's all yours," Jackson told the other man as he stood. He stopped at the door, glancing back at Christa one last time.

"Have a fling while you're gone
.
Maybe it will do us both some good
.
"

As Jackson left Christa's hospital room, he couldn't help but think this time Mallory might have been right.