Page 8 of Risk of a Lifetime
Her eyes closed and her breathing weakened.
“Why’d you send the divorce papers?” He needed her answer. Needed to know what or who had taken his place.
“I figured you’d get mad and come back…and we’d be like before.” She loosened the hold on his hand. “Didn’t work. You never came back.”
Like before? They’d been young and naive. Not anymore. He’d developed an edge that went with the job. One she’d never be able to understand. And her? From the letters Sadie sent him, Marcy had regrouped and moved forward. But she’d still never left Crayton except to go to college.
Like before? Nothing could ever be like before.
A nursed opened the doors to surgery, and the orderly pushed Marcy into the cool hallway. The doors slowly closed back into place.
He braced his head against the doorframe. A whole lot had happened in the last eight hours since he drove back in to Crayton. One hell of a lot.
Sadie touched his shoulder. “You two could try again.”
“It’s not that simple. Marcy couldn’t stand the thought I might be killed on the job like her dad. It tore her apart every time I got hurt.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Can you honestly tell me she’s gotten past that in the past few years?”
“She was only eight. A thing like that sticks with a kid.”
“Hell, do you think my childhood was a damn picnic? Not hardly. Doesn’t mean I didn’t have to grow up and stop making excuses long enough to move forward.” JB quirked the side of his mouth with a sarcastic grin. “Or in my case, move out of town.”
Sadie set her hands on her hips, a mirror of Betsy earlier. “So move back.”
“I’m sorry, Sadie, but that’s not even on my radar.” JB shook his head and headed for the waiting room. There was no way to explain to anyone how much he needed the excitement of the chase and apprehension that went along with his career. He was good at what he had become—a loner who got the job done. Sure there were times he ended up in a bad situation, but he always found a way out. Worked smarter the next time. Got stronger.
Did he think he was invincible? Hell, no. But he knew he’d fight to the end. The day he finally went down and didn’t get back up, no one would say he hadn’t given everything he had. No big deal. That was the risk he faced every day.
After all, what good was life without a little risk?
Chapter Three
The morning nurse shooed JB out of Marcy’s room so she could change her bandages and give the bed a quick clean-up. He took the opportunity to grab some breakfast in the hospital cafeteria. Focused on his third cup of strong, hot, black coffee, his eyes were at least open.
Last night had been long and uncomfortable in the recliner next to her bed. He’d spent most of the time calming her moans and scared mutterings. Even with medications, she still tossed and turned. Might even help if they took her off some of the pain killers.
He didn’t like sitting around doing nothing. The nurse had said to give her an hour. By his watch, that hour had come and gone fifteen minutes ago. Time to get back. Marcy’s scream met him as he turned the corner. He charged through the door to her room.
A man stood next to her bed while she flailed her arms at him. Blood trickled from the IV in her hand. The man lowered his forearm across her chest, and she clawed at his face.
JB grabbed the man from behind and flung him across the room. Dropped him to the floor with one swift maneuver. Braced his hand and arm against the back of the intruder’s head and dug his knee into the man’s back. “Don’t even think about moving.”
Dr. Crowley charged in to the room and pushed the call button. “Get security down here stat. And a nurse.”
“Cool it, JB. It’s me.” The man on the floor didn’t fight back. “Agent Landon.”
JB eased his hold. “Landon? When did you get to town? Better question, what the hell are you doing in here?”
“Trying to find you. Wilson said this job was top priority, so I drove in last night. I thought you might be able to help when I interview this Leon guy.” The man stood up, brushed himself off. “One look inside the door told me something was wrong. She was ripping at her IV. Banging her head against the side rails. Already had the oxygen tube tossed away.”
“Help me. Help me.” She backpedaled on the mattress. Her feet slipped. She got nowhere.
The doctor worked to calm Marcy down as the nurse cancelled security.
JB rushed to her side, lowered the bedrail, and climbed in beside her. “You’re okay, sugar. Everything’s okay.”
She clutched at his shirt as he folded her in his arms.
“I’m right here, Marcy.” He stroked her hair, kissing her forehead. He needed to stop doing that. And for damn sure stop calling her sugar.
