Page 12 of S.O.S. Mizzay

“Andy,” Missy heard Cobble say groggily as she fought the oddly strong lady. “Are you okay?”

“Hit the call button,” Missy yelled to him, eventually able to straddle the woman to gain the upper position. She forced the hand with the syringe down to the floor where she beat it against the linoleum again and again.

“I. Said. Let. Go.”

Finally, the woman’s hand opened and the syringe tumbled out, but the tenacious female hadn’t given up her fight.

In one last, desperate attempt to free herself, the miscreant bucked her hips, trying to dislodge Missy.

Missy smirked.Right.That move was something she’d learned to counter during her close-quarters-combat 101 classes, and she easily kept the woman pinned.

After a few more fruitless struggles, Missy’s adversary finally lay still.

“Who are you and what were you doing in here?” Missy heaved, catching her breath not from lack of oxygen, but from the after-effects of the adrenaline that still flooded her system.

The woman simply sneered, spitting blood up at Missy.

Seriously? Missy snarled. “Do that again, and I’ll make sure you lose teeth.”

The woman became passive once more, but Missy could see the gears turning, and knew her adversary hadn’t given up.

Missy called to Cobble, not moving her gaze away from her captive. “Did you ring for the nurse?”

“I…I’m trying,” he grunted, and she risked a quick peek.

Oh, hell no.Cobble was teetering dangerously, perched on the side of the mattress.

“She must have thrown it away from me,” he clipped from between clenched teeth.

Missy could see him struggling, and…shit!Cobble wasn’t supposed to be out of bed yet. But being the soldier he was, Cobble wouldn’t give up. Missy knew that.

“Stand down,” she ordered, panicked now for two reasons. If Cobble hurt himself—

“What the hell?” A distinct growl came from the door.

“Chuck?” Cobble’s strained greeting turned to a sigh of relief as he collapsed back onto the bed.

“Perfect timing.” Missy hissed as the woman beneath her struggled anew to get free. “I told you not to move, lady.”

She aimed her next query over her shoulder, toward the newcomer. “Mr. Smalley, I assume? I have one question. Did they allow you to bring in your service weapon?”

“As a matter of fact, they did. And I have it trained on your captive, as we speak,” he snapped. “Now, who are you, and do you want to tell me what’s happening?”

“Second Lieutenant Millicent Andriopolos at your service, sir,” she clipped out. “I was in the hall when I saw this woman acting suspiciously. So I followed her. I watched as she entered this room, and because she is not one of the staff with whom I’m familiar, I quickly stopped her from trying to administer something to Cobble, via his IV.” Missy canted her head toward the syringe laying on the floor.

“Good work, Lieutenant,” Smalley praised, although clearly angry at what he’d walked in on after a…what? Twenty-four-hour, plus, trip?

He turned part of his attention to Cobble. “You okay, Sawyer?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Cobble answered. “A little disoriented because my head is spinning, but I don’t think anything’s damaged.” He gave a wry chuckle. “At least not any more than it was before.”

“And that’s thanks to your LT,” Smalley allowed, then addressed Missy again. “I think it’s safe for you to get up now but take it slowly while I keep my weapon trained on our perp,” he cautioned. “Then we’ll find out what this is all about.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Missy answered, slowly releasing the iron grip she had on the woman’s arms, then carefully easing to her feet.

“Okay,” Smalley ordered, pointing his gun directly at the woman. “Now, you. Get up.”

Before either Missy or Smalley could discern her intent, the intruder lunged for the syringe, picked it up, and jabbed it into her own leg, depressing the plunger. She gave them an evil, bloody smile.

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