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Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
That was Damon’s first conscious thought as black nothingness disappeared and awareness returned. He was lying on something that felt suspiciously like a bloody uncomfortable bed, and five-star hotels did not have uncomfortable beds. He took a deep breath and frowned as the smells of antiseptic and sterile plastic filled his nose. What the hell?
Damon opened his eyes, trying to focus on...what was that? Was it a shower curtain? No. The fog in his brain cleared as he came fully awake. It was a partition. Damon turned his head on a white pillow and looked around. He really was in a bloody uncomfortable bed, covered with a functional sheet and a warm blanket, both white. An IV was taped to his left arm, inserted into the back of his hand. The line ran to a bag hanging from a tall, metal stand next to the bed.
Where the hell was he?
Damon tried to sit up and gasped softly as sharp pain sliced through his body. He let out a groan and sank back against the pillows. As soon as he relaxed, the slicing stopped, replaced by a dull, throbbing ache.
Hawk took a deep breath and forced himself to focus. What was the last thing he remembered? He’d start there. Maybe then he’d get some idea of how the hell he was lying in what seemed suspiciously like a hospital. Except he didn’t do hospitals. They couldn’t, he and Viper. It was too dangerous. So where was he?
They were on the balcony of the hotel.
The thought came to him suddenly. They had eaten dinner, and he was waiting for Sergei to put in an appearance at the hotel across the street. He was staying there with part of his entourage, and Hawk had been watching, waiting. Damon closed his eyes, his brows pulled together in concentration. That’s right. He was waiting for his target to show, and Viper had been sitting on a lounge chair working on her laptop. She got up and went over to the table where the left-over dinner was laid out. They were talking about something, but Damon couldn’t remember the conversation. Then what? How did he get from a balcony with Viper to...wherever here was?
Voices interrupted his thoughts, and Damon listened as they entered the room.
“...doing very well,” one said. “He’s very fortunate. It could have been much, much worse. Whoever patched him up before he got here saved it from being more serious. The wound was cauterized, which stopped the bleeding and prevented infection from setting in.”
The partition was pushed aside suddenly and Hawk’s eyebrows soared into his forehead. A doctor had pulled the curtain aside, a wrinkled but clean white coat hanging over blue scrubs. It wasn’t he who managed to surprise Hawk, however. Given the preceding conversation, he was expecting another doctor.
He was not expecting Charlie.
He stared at him, at a loss for words, and Charlie’s gray eyes stared back calmly.
“Ah, you’re awake,” the doctor said, glancing at the monitor. “How do you feel?”
“Like hell,” Damon replied, his voice hoarse. “Where am I? What happened?”
“You’re in a trauma center in Virginia,” Charlie told him. “This is Dr. White. He’s been taking care of you.”
Damon stared hard at Charlie, then turned his attention to the doctor examining a clipboard at the foot of his bed.
“Doctor,” he murmured in acknowledgment.
“You’ve had quite a couple of days,” Dr. White said, looking up. “You’ve been kept sedated, so I’m not surprised you’re confused. What’s the last thing you remember?”
Damon glanced at Charlie. He nodded, his unflappable calm reassuring.
“You can speak freely,” Charlie said. “He’s one of our surgeons.”
“One of our...” Damon sputtered. “I didn’t know we had surgeons.”
Charlie smiled faintly.
“There’s a lot you don’t know.”
Damon shook his head and looked back at the doctor waiting patiently for an answer.
“The last I remember, I was standing on a balcony in Singapore,” he said. “What happened? How did I get to Virginia?”
“You were flown here,” Charlie answered. He looked at the doctor. “Well?”
“He’s certainly not showing any confusion outside of what’s to be expected,” Dr. White replied. He walked over to the side of the bed and leaned down. A small flashlight appeared in his hand from nowhere and he shone it into one of Damon’s eyes, then the other. “How’s your head? Does it hurt?”
“Everything hurts,” Damon muttered, “but not my head especially. Why?”
“You had a mild concussion when you arrived,” Dr. White said, straightening. “Not surprising, really. You have a pretty good-sized lump on the back of your head.”
“I feel like I’ve got more than a lump on my head.”
Charlie let out a guffaw at that.
“A little bit more, yes,” the doctor said with a grin. “You don’t remember anything?”
“I told you, the last thing I remember was standing on a balcony, looking at...” Damon’s voice trailed off and his eyes widened. His heart started to pound and he suddenly went cold. “Oh my God,” he breathed, looking at Charlie. “Where is she?!”
“Whoa, careful!”
Dr. White moved swiftly, holding Damon back against the pillows as he pushed himself upright with his arms. Even in his weakened state, Hawk was much stronger and Dr. White shot a look at Charlie as he struggled to subdue the suddenly frantic man.
“Calm down,” Charlie barked, his voice acting like a bucket of ice water on fighting cats. “She’s fine. Who do you think got you here?”
Damon sighed in relief and sank back against the pillows. Dr. White shook his head and stood up, straightening his coat.
“Good God, man, do you want to start hemorrhaging?!” he exclaimed. “You just got closed up an hour ago!”
Damon looked from him to Charlie and back again.
“Would you care to fill me in on my injuries?” he asked, forcing himself to speak more calmly.
Dr. White glanced at Charlie, who nodded back.
“It was a high-powered rifle,” he said, “although, you look like you already knew that. The round entered your left side and nicked your large intestine before glancing off a rib, going through the muscle and exiting out the side. All things considered, you’re one lucky son of a bitch. If the bullet had been just a little to the right, you wouldn’t have made it here.”
Damon stared at him.
“That’s it?” he demanded. “It was a through and through?”
“That’s it. You hit your head pretty good when you fell, but like I said, you’re one lucky SOB.” Dr. White scribbled something on his chart and hung it back on the foot of the bed. “I want you to stay calm until we get your blood pressure back to normal, so no more outbursts. I also want to monitor for infection, so we’ll be taking blood regularly. No moving too much and no food yet. How’s the pain? I can have the nurse put something through the IV if you like.”
Hawk waved a hand impatiently.
“The pain is nothing,” he said. “I’ve had worse. How soon before I’m cleared to leave?”
“Barring any complications, you should be up and around again in two to three weeks.”
“Two to three...that’s not going to work for me,” Damon protested. “I can’t just lie here for weeks!”
Dr. White looked at Charlie.
“This is where you come in,” he said humorously. “I’ll leave you to deal with it.”
He turned and left the cubicle, leaving the curtain open, and Damon heard a door open and close beyond his line of vision. He turned his attention to Charlie.
“Where is she?” he demanded.
Charlie sighed and looked around. Spying a chair outside the cubicle, he stepped past the curtain and pulled it over to the side of the bed. He settled into it, crossing his legs comfortably.
“She’s in DC right now, then it’s my understanding that she’s going back to New Jersey,” he told him, sitting back. “Tell me what happened in Singapore.”
Hawk stared at him for a moment, then shook his head.
“I don’t know. I was waiting for Sergei Kuriev. She was standing about a foot away when...I saw a reflection in the hotel wall behind her. It was only a freak stroke of luck I saw it. There was a helicopter flying overhead and the lights glinted off the rifle. It lit it up like a beacon in the mirror finish on the side of the hotel.”
Charlie studied him for a moment.
“You saw all that in a reflection?” he asked softly.
Damon shrugged.
“I wouldn’t have seen it except for the light from the helicopter.”
Charlie was silent for a moment.
“Then what happened?”
“Apparently I was shot,” Damon retorted dryly.
Charlie’s lips twitched despite himself.
“Do you think it was Sergei?” he asked.
Damon thought for a moment, then shook his head.
“He didn’t know I was there,” he said decidedly. “He never saw me, and none of his body guards know me.”
Charlie nodded slowly.
“That’s what I thought,” he murmured.
“Was Viper hit?” Damon demanded. “Is she OK?”
Charlie studied him for a moment.
“She’s fine,” he said slowly. “For now. You heard what the doctor said. The bullet went through your side. What he doesn’t know is that something threw it off target, which caused it to go through your side instead of your chest.”
Hawk stared at him, feeling hot then cold.
“You mean...”
Charlie nodded somberly.
“If you weren’t directly in front of her, and the shot was true, it would have hit Viper either in the throat or the head, depending on the path. Either way, she wouldn’t have walked away.” Charlie studied him for a moment. “Would you care to tell me why you saw fit to move yourself into the path of the shot?” he asked softly.
Damon met his gaze and a rueful smile crossed his face.
“How did you know?” he asked.
“She told me.”
Damon was surprised into a bark of laughter, quickly choked back as pain gripped him with the sudden muscle contraction.
“Of course she did,” he muttered. “Yes, I moved in front of her. I wasn’t thinking, I was reacting. I saw a rifle and moved. What made the shot off target?”
Charlie shrugged.
“We don’t know. It was a clear shot from the room the shooter was in. Viper’s guess is the helicopter. She remembered it passing after you went down. She thinks the same light that showed you the rifle blinded the shooter.”
“What?!”
“Dr. White was right. You’ve got some luck on your side, both of you,” he said. “At the very least, one of you should be dead, most likely both. It was only a freak accident that saved you.”
Hawk laid his head back and stared up at the ceiling, his mind whirling.
“Who knew she was there?” he demanded.
“No one,” Charlie said flatly. “No one knew you were going except me.”
Hawk looked at him. He pressed his lips together and was silent for a moment.
“I can’t be laid up here for two weeks,” he said finally. “It’s not gonna happen.”
“I know.”
Hawk looked at him, a glint of amusement creeping into his eyes, and Charlie sighed imperceptibly.
“Viper patched you up and took you to a private doctor in Singapore, who got you ready to travel. She had you in the air less than six hours after you were shot. She stabilized you, kept you sedated, and got you here to give you the best chance to recover quickly. It would be a shame to ruin all that effort by pushing yourself out of bed too soon.”
“It’s just a flesh wound.”
“A nicked intestine isn’t exactly a flesh wound,” Charlie said dryly. “At least stay long enough to make sure no infection sets in and let the muscles start to heal. You’re no good to me dead.”
“I’m not going to die,” Hawk retorted, “and there’s no infection. Dr. White said that when you two walked in. You can’t honestly expect me to hang out in bed while someone is hunting Viper. If they found out she was halfway around the world in Singapore, they’ll find out she’s in New Jersey.”
“She said the same thing just as she was leaving,” Charlie nodded. “I didn’t get the impression it bothered her. In fact, just the opposite. I think she’s looking forward to it.”
Hawk started to laugh, then groaned instead.
“Of course she is,” he muttered. “She’s looking for blood.”
“If she wasn’t already, she certainly is now,” Charlie agreed thoughtfully. “I wish she’d found what I sent her to Singapore for, but I suppose it will happen in its own time now.”
“Who is the ex-soldier you had her looking for?” Hawk asked, sending Charlie a sharp look.
Charlie returned the look squarely, his gray eyes hooded.
“Someone who tipped the scales,” he said obscurely.
Hawk scowled.
“Well isn’t that helpful,” he muttered. “And Sergei?”
“Oh, you’ll have to finish that,” Charlie said matter-of-factly. “However, it can wait until you’re healthy. By then he’ll be back in Georgia and it will be more difficult, but that’s something you’re used to.”
Charlie stood up and buttoned his charcoal suit jacket.
“I’m glad you’re not dead,” he said, looking down at Damon.
Damon grinned despite his pain.
“So am I.”
“Let me know if and when you decide to check yourself out. And try to give yourself every chance to heal. I don’t know how long we have before Viper takes matters into her own hands. I’d rather you were a hundred percent when that happens.”
“You think that’s likely?” Hawk asked, startled.
“Given the look in her eyes when she left, I’d say it’s very likely.” Charlie paused, considering his next words. “It’s my understanding the house in Medford is still secure, but I don’t expect her to stay there long. Once she starts hunting - and she will - whoever arranged for the shooter to take the shot in Singapore will have another chance.”
Hawk nodded, his blue eyes serious.
“Where are you with that leak in Washington?” he asked softly. “That’s where this all started. That’s where it’ll end.”
“This is larger than just a leak,” Charlie said unexpectedly. His eyes met Hawk’s. “I’m working on it. I need you to trust me, and keep her alive while I sort it out.”
Blue eyes bore into gray, and after a long moment, Hawk nodded.
Charlie turned to leave, then paused.
“She stayed until you went into surgery,” he added, almost as an afterthought. “She asked me to give you a message.”
Damon raised an eyebrow questioningly.
“Well?”
“She said you owe her a tour of Singapore.”
Michael groaned and opened one eye, peering at the clock on the bedside table. The luminescent blue numbers read 2:54 and he groaned again. AC/DC continued to toll bells from his cell phone and he reached for it tiredly.
“You’d better be dying,” he growled.
“Not today, gunny, not today,” a cheerful voice greeted him, “although not for lack of trying on someone’s part.”
Michael sat bolt upright.
“Lina?”
“I don’t know why you sound so surprised. You’ve called fourteen times since Sunday.”
“Fourteen...did I?” Michael rubbed a hand over his face, trying to focus. “I was trying to get hold of you.”
“Clearly. Everything ok?”
“Yeah, everything’s just dandy,” he muttered. “You know, aside from the bombs and the terrorists loose in the country.”
There was a short silence, then she chuckled.
“Well if that’s all, you can go back to sleep. That’s old news.”
“Why are you calling at three in the morning?” Michael asked, leaning back against his headboard.
“I just landed and it seemed like a good time to catch you.”
“Just landed where?”
“I’ll touch base with you tomorrow sometime,” Alina told him, ignoring his question, “and you can tell me what warrants fourteen calls.”
“Sorry about that,” he said ruefully. “I had no idea it was that many.”
“Don’t worry. Stephanie has you beat by three.”
Michael grinned despite himself.
“That’s what you get for disappearing on us. Where did you go, anyway?”
“A little island getaway. I needed a break.”
Michael snorted.
“Yeah ok, and I’m selling the Brooklyn Bridge. Have you talked to Stephanie yet?” he asked suddenly.
“No. Why?”
“Blake’s got himself in a jam. I thought she could invite him up there for a few days.”
A beat of silence followed, and Michael was just wondering if she was still there when she spoke.
“What happened?” she asked sharply.
“Someone broke into his house last night,” Michael told her. “It doesn’t look good.”
“What did they do?”
“They planted drugs in his closet.”
Michael’s eyebrows soared into his forehead when he heard her swear softly.
“Who found them?”
“Luckily, he did. He’s reported it all to his superiors and they’re investigating.” Michael yawned widely. “I just think it would be best if he got out of the city for a few days.”
“Agreed,” Alina said, surprising him.
Michael frowned.
“You’re thinking something. What?”
“Nothing I can tell you now,” she answered shortly. “I’ll talk to Steph and follow up with you tomorrow. Thanks for telling me.”
Michael blinked, surprised.
“You’re welcome...why are you thanking me? Is everything ok?”
She chuckled again, the sound low.
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
And then she was gone.
Michael sighed and put the phone back on his side table, lying back down. He stared at the clock, his mind churning. She hadn’t seemed surprised Blake was being framed. In fact, if he didn’t know better, he would have thought she almost expected it. He frowned. What was going on? Where had she disappeared to? And why was she suddenly thanking him for information? She’d never thanked him before.
So many questions.
As he drifted back to sleep, Michael wondered if things could possibly get any stranger. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he groaned. It was probably just getting started.