“Welcome back to the world, son,” Admiral O’Riley told her patient.
Janine shoved back the tendril of hair that kept brushing her face and checked Michael Lamont over.
“Admiral...” He sounded so weak.
“You’re a lucky man, to have ended up on the operating table of Dr. Janine Morris.”
“Thanks...for the...best, Admiral.” His lips twisted into the semblance of a smile.
“You’re welcome, although I believe I’m in quite a lot of trouble with her. She thinks I arranged for her to work at the Hershey Medical Center, when in all actuality, I only gave a reference.”
She snorted as she checked her patient’s vital statistics.
“Blame...me,” Michael said, looking at her with more power than she thought possible. Janine stared at him. Into those endless, bottomless blue eyes. A woman could become ensnared by those depths, and find herself drowning. A fate she didn’t particularly care to know.
“You arranged for me to work there?” She kept up her end of the conversation, barely. Where was the rage she should be feeling? What about disgust that her own abilities hadn’t landed her dream job?
He nodded. “KC loves...you...and a member of...my team. Living in Hershey... good.”
She stared at him, askance. She couldn’t believe he arranged things so neatly for her. And apparently he had known her name. That in of itself was highly unusual. How had he known her? She certainly hadn’t known him. He also mentioned KC, so this man had to be Greg Gilmore.
“See, wasn’t me,” Admiral O’Riley piped up smugly.
She sent both men a disbelieving look before she addressed her patient. “I can’t believe you arranged for me to work there. I was trying to obtain a position on my own.” She didn’t sound quite as severe as she intended, but then Michael-Greg wasn’t as well as he could be, either. Yet. She had every confidence he’d recover. Fixing him up had taken every skill she possessed and a few she invented along the way, but she patched him back together. Once he healed, she hoped there would be little indication of what he suffered.
He gave the semblance of a shrug before something close to a wicked grin crossed his face. She’d seen a similar expression on KC and Ryan’s faces from time to time. That look spelled trouble.
“I only gave ... reference,” he lied. The admiral let out a bark of laughter. The two men grinned innocently at her.
“I hate you both,” she said gruffly, but couldn’t help the smile that lifted her lips.
Their guffaws lifted her unwelcome humor higher.
She and the Admiral were the only ones in the room with her patient at the moment, so she monitored him as they talked. Or in her case, as she scolded him. He didn’t appear to be any more apologetic for his actions than KC. Despite his being a problem-child, Janine was happy with his rapid progress.
Moving him had been very risky, but once the operative realized their intentions, he rallied round and fought to improve. He was prepped for surgery within hours, and she laid the ground work long before he actually entered the operating room.
She studied x-rays and ran so many tests she probably knew Michael Lamont’s body better than he did. Fortunately, he kept himself in excellent physical condition, and his body responded well to all she subjected it to.
“What about... work?” The admiral straightened and turned his attention to her when Michael asked the question.
Though he’d heal nicely, she wondered if he would be able to return to active duty. “I don’t know yet.” She studied him in an attempt to gauge his reaction.
Nothing. She didn’t see so much as a flicker of alarm, or excitement, or resentment. Just ... nothing. Frowning, she glanced at her former boss. He stared at the man in contemplative silence.
Since neither of them spoke, she decided to change the subject.
“Those guys did a great job with the bomb that blew you up. One of them is probably being toasted for your wounds, and the subsequent fact you’re dead.”
“Self-inflicted.” He grimaced as he tried to move to a more comfortable position.
She reared back and stared at him. “What?” The admiral looked as interested in the agent’s answer as she.
“I set...bomb. Killed ‘em...all... but didn’t get away...fast enough.”
“You set the bomb?” The admiral’s eyebrows shot into his hairline. Acute admiration and respect crossed his face.
Lazy satisfaction crossed her patient’s. He looked so much like KC and Ryan Janine had to resist the urge to stroke the hair from his forehead. “No one...should be alive...got ‘em all, but,” he began to cough, and Janine rushed forward to support him.
She placed a hand over the stitches on his abdomen, and winced as she thought about the pain coughing would cause. He sucked in a shuddering breath, but turned adamantly toward the admiral. “Traitor...in midst. After...Ben...SEAL team.” His voice, while weak, was fierce.
“Where did this occur?” O’Riley’s quiet voice sounded loud in the room.
“Terrorist installation... upper Pennsylvania...as suspected.” He began coughing again. She pressed her hand against him during the spell, fearful of his stitches.
“But you took out the installation?”
KC’s brother nodded. “Traitor...all...left.”
“We’ll take care of the traitor,” O’Riley promised. The cold, alert look she associated with military men who had survived the uglier side of life surged in his eyes.
Her patient nodded.
She swept her eyes over him, trying to determine if he’d done himself any harm with the coughing spells. She noticed abruptly that her hand was still curled over his rock hard abdomen. Possessively, in fact.
Using more self-control than she should have needed, Janine calmly removed her hand from Michael’s stomach, rather than wrenching it away, as her instincts cried for her to do. But that would draw attention and could hurt him, so she forced herself to be calm, despite the fact she wasn’t experiencing that emotion at the moment.
Where had such a feeling come from? This possessive, proprietary one she had never experienced before? She’d operated on thousands of men, and had never once felt this way about any of them. Swallowing, she turned away as the admiral questioned Michael more. She didn’t doubt their leader would have all the information he needed by the time they finished their “discussion”. Nor did she doubt who would be called up to assist in taking the traitor down.
While one part of her howled at the fact Ben would have to go, the other, more rational part explained that her brother was fully trained for this type of duty and his team was top of the pack. Besides, she’d just faked a man’s death and then operated on him, after spending seven hours in the operating room already.
Then there was the fact she knew things that could get her and many others killed. Then there was the information she didn’t know she knew that could also get her killed. Either way, her retirement could become pretty hair-raising, if not outright spectacular.
Therefore she realized she had no cause to complain about her brother’s dangerous job. Besides, Treeny would be the one who had to deal with his erratic schedule and peril more than Janine. Bless the woman who chose a military man to love. Especially a military man like Ben. One who loved his job and possessed the skills to validate that love.
For some reason her eyes slid to the man occupying the only bed in the room.