Page 80 of Seal of Honor
Not bad.
His foot hurt more than the bullet wound. A pull on the sheet covering him showed it wrapped in an ace bandage and caught in a splint. Crutches leaned against the wall across from his bed.
He swung his legs over the side and sat up. Dizziness swamped him, but only for a second, and he studied the IV pole when his double vision merged back into one picture. A painkiller, no doubt. Saline. Both of those he could do without and pulled the tape, sliding the needles out of his arm. Machines started beeping, and he jabbed the off button. Last thing he wanted was for some pushy nurse to come running.
Gabe hesitated over the bag of A neg still hanging from the pole. It was almost gone, but he’d bled hard and probably needed every drop of the transfusion. Instead of unhooking it, he grabbed the bag and took it with him. His foot held okay, so he ignored the crutches, made sure his hospital gown was tied shut in the back, and peeked out the door.
A clock jutting from the wall halfway down the corridor said 2300. The hallway was dimmed for the night. With everyone tucked into bed and the staff whittled down to the skeleton night shift, that made things extra convenient. Should be no problem to find Audrey, get back to his team, and finish this whole goddamn catastrophe of a mission.
He slipped into the hallway and—shit, footsteps coming his way. The fast, sure, quiet stride of someone on a mission. He faded back into his room and waited for them to pass, but the steps slowed as they reached his door.
Yeah, figured. He knew it was too easy.
He pressed his back to the wall at the left of the door. Across the room, his bed, in plain view of anyone in the hallway, was a rumpled mess and obviously empty, but there wasn’t much he could do now to disguise that fact. Besides, if those heavy footsteps belonged to a nurse doing nightly rounds, he’d eat his dog tags.
Possibilities raced through his mind. One of Mena’s men come to get revenge? Or one of Cocodrilo’s men? Or, hell, with the rotten luck he’d had lately, it could be someone totally unrelated to this whole mess yet just as dangerous.
The man paused outside the door, then slid quietly into the room. He moved two steps before he realized the bed was empty and started to turn, but Gabe was already on him, an arm around his neck in a hold meant to put him to sleep in less than a minute. The guy tensed in automatic reaction like he wanted to fight back. His arms even came up, but then he relaxed, and his hand tapped out against Gabe’s arm in a very familiar way.
Quinn?
Gabe spun him around by the shoulders. Dim light spilled in from the hallway and cast deep shadows around his nose and eyes. Exhaustion, worry, and relief ravaged his normally stoic features, his gray eyes red-rimmed and haunted.
Gabe clasped Quinn’s head in his hands, just to make sure this was real, make sure he wasn’t still unconscious and dreaming of his best friend. He wasn’t. Quinn’s head was a solid mass under his hands, skin warm, beard stubble abrading the cuts on his palms.
He let out a relieved breath. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you, bro.”
“Same here, man. When I heard that shot over the phone—” Quinn’s voice came out thick, and he paused to clear his throat. Then he drew Gabe into a hard hug.
Gabe wasn’t a big hugger by nature. Still, with a brother as physically affectionate as Raffi, it was something he’d gotten… well, if not comfortable with, then tolerant of over the years. Still, he didn’t know who was more stunned by the contact: him or Quinn, who abruptly released him and backed up, looking anywhere but at him, uncomfortable with even that small amount of affection.
Well, shit. Audrey was right. He had never paid attention to it before, but Quinn was one very sad man. Lost. Drifting. Alone.
And days ago, someone might have used the same words to describe him. Not sad, because while he was no roses and sunshine optimist, he’d always done his best to retain an ounce of humor even when his world looked the bleakest. But drifting, lost, and alone? Oh yeah, he’d been the poster child.
Until Audrey. Odd that he’d find such a solid anchor in a woman most people considered flighty.
Of course, her anchoring effect was only temporary. Despite her confession of love—yeah, he’d been out of it, but he’d heard that nonsense loud and clear—he had no illusions that whatever he and Audrey had would last past the end of this mission. They hadn’t talked of a long-term commitment, or short-term for that matter, and even if they wanted to give it a go, she lived in Costa Rica, which was three thousand-plus miles from his home in D.C. How would that work?
And then there was the undeniable fact that they were very, very different people. He was a planner, a thinker, the sort to consider every angle before making a decision. Audrey, on the other hand, was impulsive, bordering on reckless, her passion and dedication sometimes blinding her to the bigger picture. Theirs was a connection born out of intense circumstances and mutual respect—but was it enough to last beyond the danger and adrenaline? Probably not.
And, besides, Audrey deserved more than a broken SEAL.
Quinn cleared his throat, wiped a hand over his face, then finally looked at Gabe. “You should be lying down.”
“Nah. I’m fine.”
“Gabe, you were shot.”
“Believe me, I know. How bad was it?”
“All considering, Jesse said it should have been worse. It tore up some muscle but missed all your vital organs and only needed stitching. You got lucky. An inch over would’ve been a direct gut shot. His biggest concern was the amount of blood you lost, which is why you need this.”
Quinn grabbed the bag of blood from Gabe’s hand and returned it to the IV pole. He eyed the two other disconnected IV lines but said nothing about them. “So don’t fuck around with this until it’s gone.”
Hearing how close he came to death, Gabe sat on the edge of the bed. Better not to press his luck any further. “Where’s Audrey?”
“She’s asleep in the waiting room down the hall. She didn’t want to leave your side and threw one hell of a fit until Jesse poured a mild sedative into her.”
