“I’ll be back to take you home,” he said quietly.
Again she saw that strange flicker in his eyes but his expression was thoughtful as he stood over her. He lifted her hand, brushed his lips over her knuckles.
“I’m sorry you have to be in the middle of this. I’m sorry I hurt you.” He dropped her hand, turned, and walked out the door.
Laurie stared after him, confused and drained of energy. The remorse in his eyes stunned her as well as confused her. She didn’t blame him. He had not chosen her family any more than she had. Oh, he had scared her to death by not telling her he had removed Stacy but that was a forgivable mistake. He certainly had not hurt her. She wished he had stayed with her. On a heavy sigh of longing, she drifted gratefully into drug-induced sleep.
* * * *
Damien paced the hospital corridor in long, agitated strides. Glancing frequently into Laurie’s room, he paused and watched her. She slept, shifting restlessly from the pain of the accident. He finally closed the door to shut out her occasional whimpers of distress. But he stood by the window and continued to watch. He longed with every fiber of his being to stay in there with her. He wanted to hold her, soothe her, and take care of her.
“A week,” he muttered under his breath and scowled. How had he fallen so hard, so fast, so irrevocably? Was it the situation? Or was it simply Laurie herself?
He jerked angrily away from the door, spotted the doctor at the end of the corridor, and stalked after him.
“Doctor,” he barked so harshly the old man halted automatically and turned sharply around.
The blue eyes were bright, sharp, and wary behind the bifocal lenses. He might be over fifty-five but Damien sensed the man was no fool. He had talked to him earlier, before seeing Laurie.
“Can I help you, Mr. McAllister?” he asked firmly.
“I need to get her out of here,” Damien stated curtly. “I explained earlier that a very dangerous man is after her. The longer she stays in a public hospital, without protection, the more susceptible she is to danger. It’s easy for anyone to trace her.”
“I understand that, Mr. McAllister,” the doctor responded firmly. “But I am more concerned about her health. I insist she stay a little longer in case of complications.” He paused, raked his sharp gaze over Damien. “I think you are probably a very dangerous man, yourself.”
Damien nodded acknowledgement but persisted. “I can move her more safely at night.”
“Very well. I’ll check on her once more and we’ll see.” The doctor glanced at his watch and lifted his hard stare back to Damien’s. “I can give her something. It might be better if she sleeps through it. Come with me.”
Damien walked beside him, his mind churning through options. Keeping Laurie sedated for several more hours would make the move easier on him, as well. He followed the doctor into the room, took Laurie’s fragile hand in his, and watched the very thorough examination. He rubbed his thumb in idle circles over her soft skin, felt her slow pulse, and wished heartily things had been different. With his other hand he gently skimmed a few strands of hair from her face then lowered his gaze to the slow rise and fall of her breasts. He lifted his gaze, caught the doctor watching him intently. An uncomfortable flush of warmth disconcerted him.
“I can see you care for her,” the doctor said quietly. “I’ll let you take her to safety.”
ALWAYS A WARRIOR Patricia Bruening
61
Were his feelings so obvious? Damien shook his head slightly. The doctor prepared a syringe with whatever sedative he preferred. Damien watched, his stomach surprisingly queasy, as the needle slid under the skin of her inner elbow and into the artery. The doctor depressed the plunger, injecting the clear liquid that would keep Laurie asleep, at least groggy enough to be unaware of things. Damien’s heart turned over as the doctor withdrew the needle.
The old man tossed the needle into the biohazard container then stretched his hand over the bed. “Take care of her, Mr. McAllister.” It was part concern and part warning.
Damien shook the doctor’s hand firmly and smiled slightly. “Count on it.”
As the doctor left the room, closing the door quietly behind him, Damien sat on the edge of the bed. With Laurie’s hand still nestled in his, he contemplated his next course of action and the expected results, both professional and personal.
In spite of the drug, her hand tightened fractionally and her eyelids fluttered but remained closed.
“Damien.” His name slurred between her lips but he understood her.