Gathering of Angels(46)
“I hope you don’t mean that literally.”
Laughing, she straightened. “Hand up?”
“I think we’re going to need stretchers.”
Between them, they got Claire upright, then Simon. Heather stirred, groaning, and Mindy Kay moved to her, smoothing back the sweat streaked blonde hair as she spoke, her voice gentle, soothing.
Annie brushed her cheek. “I’m going to bring the van around. There’s an access road that leads right to that door.” She pointed to the French doors in the middle of the opposite wall. “Don’t go anywhere.” Leaning in, she kissed Claire’s forehead. “I’ve never been so scared. I thought I was going to—never mind.”
“I’m right here, Annie.” Claire took her hand, ignoring the flare of pain. “And I plan on staying a while. Start a new chapter in my story.”
“Right—okay.” She smiled, those warm brown eyes filmed with tears. “Be back with that stretcher.”
Simon looked down at her. “I think you owe me a story, too.”
“I just may tell you. Someday.”
FOURTEEN
Lea waited for them outside when they pulled up to the cabin.
Annie had already prepared Claire for what may be waiting inside; she climbed out of the van with Lea’s help, braced herself for bad news.
“He’s turned the corner,” Lea said, tears filling her hazel eyes as she smiled. “Eric said the poison is leaving his system. Slow, but he’s out of danger, for now.”
“Thank you.” Claire wiped at the tears that slipped down Lea’s face, fought her own.
“Let’s get you inside.” Lea guided her into the cabin, and didn’t even ask before continuing into the bedroom and settling her in a chair next to the bed. “Eric—you have another patient. Two, from the looks of Simon.”
He crouched in front of Claire, concern darkening his blue eyes, and checked her pulse. “I hear you smoked a ghost.”
“Annie does have a way with words.”
“Does anything hurt?”
She swallowed. “Everything, just in general. It’s nothing a long appointment with my bed won’t cure. Simon was injured.”
“You stay here.” Standing, he leaned in to kiss her cheek. “Welcome back.”
Claire took in a shaky breath, lifted her head. And met a pair of exhausted green eyes.
“Marcus—”
“Taking on the enemy alone again?” he whispered.
“You know me.” Pushing out of the chair, she limped to the bed. “So, dire predictions of your death seem to be premature.”
“I hope I do not disappoint—”
She shut him up with her lips. Warm, shaking fingers closed over one shoulder, then slid into her hair. When they came up for air, she found herself on the bed, wrapped in a one armed embrace.
“You are cold,” he whispered, brushing his lips over her cheek.
“And you feel like an open oven.” Reaching up, she pushed wild black curls off his face. “I thought I lost you.”
“Part of me wanted it, Claire.” He closed his eyes. “Redemption by death. I am certain you are familiar with the concept.”
“And it meant nothing, Marcus. It gave me nothing.” She cupped his chin, waited until he met her eyes. “But it hurt my friends, gave them grief they didn’t deserve. Don’t take that path—you didn’t earn it, whatever you may think.”
“I will tell you the rest of the tale. You may think differently after.”
“The tale can wait. And I won’t.” She kissed him, cradled his cheek. “Get some rest. I expect we’ll be leaving sooner rather than later.”
Swallowing the moan in her throat, she got to her feet, limped out to the living room.
Simon sat at the kitchen table, his shirt off, bandages covering a good portion of bare skin. Lea hurried forward, helped her sit.
“I’ll get you something to eat. Stay put—you look exhausted.”
She looked at Simon. “Feeling better?”
“Give me six months to a year—I’ll get back to you.” He winced when Eric taped the bandage on his left forearm. “You’re leaving.”
“I think we’ve pretty much worn out our welcome.”
“Burned the welcome mat.”
She laughed—then groaned, pain flaring up her back. “I’m all right.” She waved Eric away. “Finish with him.”
Simon flashed her a grim smile. “Thanks.”
Her lips twitched. “My pleasure. What are you going to do now?”
“Bury our dead. Tend to the living. I will be busy for some time.”
She touched his right wrist—one of the few uninjured spots on his upper body. “When you get past the busy, I would like to show you my beach.”