Page 127 of What About Love

“Shit,” she whispered, which most likely wasn’t heard over the general’s soft laughter.

Chapter 29

GROGGY AND HEAVY HEADED, T struggled to wake through the dense fog surrounding him. Disoriented, he tried to open his eyes, the lids feeling weighted down. He cracked one open and squinted up into harsh institutional grade lights overhead. Rolling his head toward the source of the incessant humming in his ear, he saw a pump with tubing attached to an IV pole.

What the fuck?

He tried to pull it all together. Last he remembered, they were evacuating nine scared college kids by chopper. They’d left a mess behind, but the general with his contacts in Washington and Cap with the senator’s assistance would somehow clean up after them.

Their mission accomplished, the adrenaline rush had faded and so had T. He recalled lifting off and leaving Guatemala behind while Angie fussed over him, staunching the bleeding wound in his shoulder as best she could with the limited supplies in the first aid kit. The concerned look on her face that produced twin creases between her brows and the way she bit her lip while taping the bandage in place was his last memory before blackness had overtaken him.

A dull squeaking to his left drew his attention. Angie was shifting in the ugly-ass tan vinyl chair she’d pulled close to the bedside. She squirmed for a moment then settled back to sleep.

His eyes roamed her face. The frown she’d worn on the chopper persisted even while asleep. He noticed how tired she appeared, and pale. She had dark smudges beneath her eyes that hadn’t been there before. It didn’t detract from her beauty; he doubted anything could.

As he observed, she wrinkled her nose and brushed at the loose tendrils of hair that fell across her face, having worked free from the high ponytail at the back of her head. The rest of it hung long and lustrous across her neck and over her chest.

As he continued his perusal from there, he noticed her nipples standing out in hard relief against the thin cotton T-shirt she wore. She was chilled, the air in the room blowing down from a vent directly above her such that she’d curled on her side, her arms pressed close to her body and her hands tucked between her blue jean-covered thighs.

He wanted nothing more than to scoop her up in his arms, carry her to bed and tuck her in, crawling in after to keep her warm. He should cover her, he thought, and shifted to sit up. As he did, a sharp pain shot through his shoulder.

“Fuck,” he bit out. Angling his chin down, he took in the bulky white bandage covering his shoulder, half his chest, and most of his arm.

“A mere flesh wound my ass,” a sleep-husky voice purred. He looked around to find Angie perched on the edge of the chair, watching him. “Do you need something for pain?”

He shook his head. “No, it was the sudden movement. It’s easing off.” His voice was dry and raspy. Without asking, she got up and poured him some water from a pink pitcher. “How did I get here? And where exactly is here?”

“You’re at County Hospital in San Antonio. You don’t remember?”

He shook his head, stilling abruptly as the movement jarred his wound. “Last thing I recall was you patching me up.”

“You’d lost a lot of blood.” The frown was back. “You had no business finishing the mission with a bullet in your shoulder, you know?”

“We got the kids out?”

“Yes, you were the only one wounded.” She shrugged with a grimace then amended her statement. “On our side that is.”

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