Willing Sacrifice (Knights of the Board Room) (3 page)

Or maybe Savannah did realize it. The way she’d looked at Janet, her gaze practically boring into her.
I’m glad Matt has you.

Closing the distance between them, she put her hands on Matt’s forearms, despite the blood she transferred to his white shirt. He’d shed his jacket and tie in the car. In that uncertain moment before she spoke, when he didn’t yet know what had happened, she thought she might be holding him up.

“They took her to surgery. The uterus wall detached, Matt. They have to operate now to save her and the baby.”

* * * * *

In certain situations, time really had no meaning. It was simply one task after another, lined up to keep the cold knot of fear at bay, the knowledge that everything might be brought to a screeching halt by a doctor’s somber face, the resigned gaze. By the time she and Matt were in the surgery waiting room, Max had joined them. With barely a glance, Max understood what she needed. He sat down with Matt, beginning to relay additional details in that direct way that helped her usually unflappable boss. Information. Men always thought it could help solve things, change them.

Max had pressed her cell phone into her hand, along with her hands-free earpiece. When he did, he’d tightened his fingers on her briefly. She kept him and Matt in her sight but out of hearing range as she started her list of calls. Matt hadn’t given her any guidance, but then he rarely had to do so for any situation. She wouldn’t be seeking any for this one. Now that the initial shock was wearing off, he was practically vibrating with suppressed fury and frustration. Savannah and his child were behind a closed door somewhere, going through an indescribable trauma, yet he couldn’t help them, couldn’t be at their side.

Her first call was the most important, yet the one she hoped would be least necessary. “Yes, may I speak to Reverend Dana? Thanks… Dana, this is Janet. Savannah’s in surgery. Something went wrong.” When her voice quavered, she stopped herself, forced it to calm before continuing. “You need to come right away. Matt may need you. I’ll have Randall send a car. Call Jon and have him come straight to the hospital as well.”

Dana would call all of them, all four of Matt’s executive team and their wives, not just Jon. However, if the worst happened, Dana and Jon were the ones Matt would need most. The worst simply couldn’t happen, however. Janet refused to accept that. She thought of Savannah’s jaw firming, the determination in the pain-racked features. She would fight. No matter her pain, no matter her exhaustion, angels would have to drag Savannah Kensington’s soul screaming from that room to take her away from the child and husband she loved so much.

“Ma’am?” She turned to see an orderly, a gentle black giant with the brown eyes of a deer, standing by her. He held a set of scrubs and a pair of disposable booties. It was the first time she realized she was walking around in her stockings.

“You look like a size small to me,” he said kindly, indicating the scrubs, “but I brought a medium as well, just in case.”

He directed her to the bathroom, fortunately placed right across from the waiting room. Max acknowledged her gesture, letting him know where she’d be, then she disappeared behind the wooden door.

She knew it was a mistake, but after she closed the door, she turned and looked at herself in the mirror. With the next breath, she was somewhere else entirely.

Another bathroom, very different from this sterile environment. There’d been a gilt-edged mirror, gold fixtures, a marble floor and countertops, but blood didn’t care about such things. She’d had it in her hair but hadn’t remembered when it had gotten there. It had also splattered across her face. She remembered that. That was what happened when you hit an artery. She’d stood in the bathroom, holding the knife and meat cleaver in her hands. For endless moments, she’d simply stared at them. The rage that had kept her going, made her incapable of stopping, was draining from her like blood itself. Her legs ached, an incomprehensible irony…and vindication.

No. Stop it. That’s over and done. No time for that shit right now.

“Janet.”

She came back to the present like she’d been shot, with a jerk and wide, staring eyes. Max was standing right behind her. She hadn’t locked the bathroom door. She’d pulled off the shirt, was standing there in her lace bra and her skirt, her stockings. The blood had soaked through the thin blouse, so she had a stain on one of the bra cups. Fortunately, he’d closed the door behind them so passersby couldn’t see her. Or Matt.

“Matt…”

“Lucas just got here. He’s with him. Apparently the meeting finished earlier than expected. They’re all headed back into New Orleans now.”

She was still gripping the sink, and the blood had created pale pink rivulets on the white tile. “Okay. All right.”

Picking up one of the washcloths the orderly had given her with the scrubs, Max ran it under a stream of warm water. He gave her a look, making sure she was okay with it, then rubbed the cloth over her shoulders, down her sternum, over the tops of her breasts, her upper abdomen. He took away the blood, left warm, clean dampness behind. Balling up the blouse, he jammed it in the biohazard can, no question that she could ever wear it again. She had her hair in a twist on her head, but some pieces had come down. He moved them out of his way to run the cloth over her neck. Then he rinsed out the cloth, picked up a clean one and did it all over again, covering the same terrain.

She stared at his face throughout. No thoughts in her head, though she should be thinking of a hundred details. His face wasn’t expressionless, not exactly. It was like staring at one of those old concrete statues tucked in the corner of a garden. Something that had been there forever, seen everything come and go, and still it stood, just as strong. “You did good,” she managed.

“So did you. You could be a combat nurse.” Those steady gray eyes held hers in a lock as intimate as a physical embrace. “You with me now?”

She nodded. He picked up the scrub top, offered it to her. If she didn’t pull it together, he’d probably help her take off the skirt, dress her in the drawstring pants like a child. She cleared her throat, resisting the urge to let him do just that. “I’m okay. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

“All right.” But before he turned away, he did something remarkable. He put his arms around her. Despite her surprised stiffness, he closed the step between them to hold her close. The contact with his body sent a current through her, waking up frozen nerve endings. As he cupped the back of her head in one large palm, his heat and strength surrounded her. She once again remembered the way he’d navigated through that traffic, never showing panic or lack of control. Neither had she. He was right. They’d both done damn good.

“Sometimes, after something like that, human touch helps ground you, brings back your focus.” He spoke against her hair.

It did. “It does,” she said into his chest. “Thank you, Max.”

* * * * *

As she expected, all four of his team came, with their wives or significant others. She leaned against the wall, watching the way they formed a protective circle around Matt, supporting him. All of them waiting.

Jon Forte sat in a chair at Matt’s back, a deliberate choice, Janet was sure. Though in business Jon was Matt’s engineering genius, with a secondary but no less significant talent for finance, that wasn’t the reason she’d felt it was as imperative for him to be here as Dana. The other men, more traditional Southern males, routinely teased Jon for his philosophical studies of ancient texts and the advanced yoga practice that gave his leanly muscled form a tensile strength, but their respect for his sincere and solid spiritual core was obvious in difficult situations like this.

Rachel, Jon’s wife, had just brought another round of coffee from the cafeteria. After she distributed it, she took a seat next to Jon, her hazel eyes serious. Because Rachel’s blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail, Janet clearly saw the strain in her face they were all feeling. There were so many connections in this room…that had to mean something, didn’t it? A sense that things happened for a reason, that truly bad things couldn’t happen when bonds were this strong and fated?

For instance… Rachel was a physical therapist, but it was her second job, that of yoga instructor, that had brought her across Jon’s path. When he learned about the PT, that had connected her to Dana. Dana was an Army veteran who’d needed Rachel’s skills. Peter Winston, Matt’s operations manager and a former National Guard captain who’d served two tours in the Middle East, was her husband. He’d retired to care for Dana when she came back from Iraq so severely injured she lost her sight and most of her hearing. Fortunately, cochlear implant surgery had helped her regain much of the latter.

Janet shifted her gaze to Peter, his powerful body squeezed into a chair next to Dana. Since Max was Dana’s primary driver, the men often teased the big man about how similar he was to Max in build and coloring, with his storm-gray eyes and dark-blond hair. Nobody was teasing anyone right now, however.

Thinking about the men’s similarities, she turned her head to locate Max. He was standing at the corner of the waiting room, ready to help. He met her gaze briefly as she turned, then Janet’s attention was pulled to more pressing matters.

“Fuck this.” Matt surged up from the seat and moved toward the hallway. “I’m going to her.”

Peter was already in motion, but it was Lucas who was closest and intercepted him, shifting a step ahead of Matt.

“You can’t, man. You know that. She’s in surgery.”

“She needs me. They need me.” But the emotions beneath the rage said the words Matt was too much of a traditional, stoic male to say.
I need them.

“I know that. But you don’t want to distract them from what they’re doing. They’re doing everything they can for her, and you don’t want them to spare a single second from that, right?”

Lucas, the voice of calm reason, Matt’s CFO and best friend since college. As an amateur cyclist who regular biked to work, the gray-eyed, sandy-haired, athletic male took his share of ribbing over stretchy shorts and compressed testicles, but his success in the sport reflected the focus and calm thinking he exercised now. He knew Matt so well…they all knew one another so well. The bonds they’d formed, through laughter and tears, were unbreakable. Janet’s fervent hope was the former, or something in a similar positive vein, would prevail by the end of this day.

She saw Cassandra, Lucas’ wife, link hands with Rachel. The way their fingers tightly intertwined reflected the anguish they felt for Matt, the worry for Savannah. They were all so used to Matt being in total command of himself and everything around him, the undercurrent of agony in his voice twisted something in all of them. Including Janet.

Ben joined Lucas now, on the opposite side of Matt, a subtly strategic move in case he bolted anyway, but Janet could tell her boss knew Lucas was right. He was simply a man of action. The waiting was killing him. And Ben knew it.

“Tell you what. Let Marcie go stake out the emergency room and see if she can get somebody going in and out to tell her anything. Best if you stay here, though, in case someone from admin needs anything from you, or if the doctor slips out a different door and she misses her.”

Ben was legal muscle for K&A. With his devilish good looks—green eyes, dark hair and silver tongue—he was quite capable of convincing anyone of anything, but Janet understood why he was sending Marcie. Marcie, Cass’ younger sister, worked in corporate investigations for Savannah’s company, and no one was better at convincing people to inadvertently give up confidential information. And the attractive blonde with chocolate-brown eyes was only twenty-three, with a fresh-faced beauty and deceptive innocence that only enhanced that ability.

When Matt gave a grudging nod, rubbing a hand over his face, Ben glanced toward Marcie. No words needed to be exchanged for her to understand her task, and not just because she was just that intuitive. She and Ben had been an item for less than a couple months, but with such a bonded intensity that they all expected an engagement announcement any day now. She disappeared down the hallway.

Connections, bonds, fate. Janet repeated the thought to herself. The five men had supported one another through loss and gain, as well as when each man found the woman of his dreams. Those shared experiences, as well as the traits they had in common, like sexual Dominance, had made their relationship far beyond that of simple friendship. It was an unconditional brotherhood. As Janet looked around at the women, seeing faces that reflected a fear of the worst but also a complete commitment to support Matt and their men, whatever the outcome, she knew the women had become part of that inner circle as well.

She thought of Savannah, the grip of her hands, the fear in her eyes. Whatever happened, Matt would have these people. His link to them would help him survive. But Janet knew what kind of road that was, and she wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

* * * * *

Marcie returned with a report that Savannah was holding her own, but that the outcome for mother or child was still in the balance. Janet could tell Marcie wished she had better news, but she delivered it with painful honesty, knowing Matt wouldn’t settle for anything less.

He nodded, taking a silent seat in his chair once again, staring straight ahead. Ben touched Marcie’s face, gave her a reassuring nod and the girl returned to Dana’s side. The vigil resumed.