For Her Eyes Only (28 page)

“Let me check your leg, then we’ll get Jade up to the kitchens.”

Vicky frowned. She wanted more hugs, more cuddles, more “you did goods”, not this distance. She knew she was being a sap but she wanted just a little more time in his arms.

His face was shuttered, and he jerked his chin at her leg. He was retreating.
Again
.

She sighed and sank down on one knee, trying to pull the torn, damp denim up over her leg. It snagged a little on the ankle holster.

“Come on, hurry up, let me see,” Ryan said roughly.

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, hold on,” Vicky snapped. If he was going to lose the warm and fuzzies, so was she. Sure, she was being stubborn, maybe even a little too proud, but she’d do it her damn self, in her own damn time.

Ryan sighed as he hunkered down, hands on knees.

She’d just managed to pull the denim up over the holster and cut, with gritted teeth and beads of perspiration dotting her brow, when the movement caught her eye.

Ryan’s attention was caught by the exposed wound on her leg, and he grimaced. “Damn, that looks painful.”

Jade sat up behind Ryan, a glazed look in her eye as she raised a ski stock overhead, the pointed end aimed at the head of the man in front of her.

Instinctively, Vicky pulled the gun from her holster with her left hand, her right dangling uselessly by her side. Ryan’s eyes widened.

She fired.

Twice.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Ryan dove out of the way as Jade slumped and fell behind him, her hand dangling from the cable tie on the chain-link fence. He glanced over at the fallen woman behind him. She gazed up at him, shocked, as blood bloomed across her chest from the wound in her shoulder. Her fingers opened, and she dropped the ski stock. She tried to roll to her side, but cried out in pain as she fell back again. She wasn’t going anywhere.

Good
. Ryan gritted his teeth as his arm burned and he turned to Vicky, her left hand trembling as she held the gun, still pointed at Jade Maxwell. Footsteps clambered down the stairs behind him, and Drew raced into view. He stopped when he saw the scene.

“There’s another body in the freezer,” Vicky said over her shoulder.

Drew went to the door and looked in, and his shoulders sagged when he saw who was inside. “Ah, damn.” He ducked his head and looked away, and it was several moments before he visibly shook himself. He lifted his chin and strode over to them. Ryan wondered briefly who the unlucky person was, but his aching body distracted him.

His shoulder felt like it had been kicked by a mule with hooves coated in gasoline and then set alight. Except the hoof was still buried inside him, burning. He lifted his hand to his shoulder and felt the warm liquid seep through his fingers.

“You shot me!” He said incredulously, eyeing the gun in Vicky’s hand. She’d shot him. He couldn’t believe it. Sweet, little old pal-o’-mine Vicky had put a bullet in him. She’d had to rescue
him
.

He looked up at Drew as their colleague hurried over to Vicky and took the gun from her, laying a soothing hand on her shoulder.

“I thought you said she could hit the target.”

“I did hit the target,” Vicky snapped as Drew helped her to her feet, keeping the weapon trained on Jade.

“You hit me!”

“You were about to get hit by her!”

“And you thought you’d beat her to it? I thought you were my friend.” He knew he was saying stupid stuff, but damn, she’d shot him, and it friggin’ well hurt. The spike of adrenaline was wearing off, leaving him sore and, well, cranky, damn it. She’d
shot
him.

Vicky’s jaw dropped, then she narrowed her eyes. “You’re still alive, aren’t you?”

“You shot me.”

“You moved,” she snapped.

“Of course I moved, you were shooting at me.”

Vicky closed her mouth with a snap, pivoted and started limping up the stairs.

Jade moaned. They ignored her.

“Hey, what about my shoulder?” Ryan called after her. He was a big boy, he could handle the pain, but he wasn’t ready for her to walk away, to leave him. Not yet. He wanted to look after her, damn it. She was limping and holding her arm, and he just wanted to make sure she was okay. Safe.

She didn’t even turn around. “Suck it up, Buttercup.” She even managed a stomp with every second step.

Drew sniggered as he crossed over to Jade and turned her on her side, ignoring her cries of pain. He pulled her free arm up to the fence and used another cable tie to bind her wrists together.

“What’s so funny,” Ryan snapped. He felt like he’d been through the ringer. Panicking over Vicky, only to get shot by her.
What the hell?
Normally he was a cool customer in times of danger and high stress, but today he was a mess. The woman he loved had almost been killed. Several times, damn it. She was giving him gray hairs and a heart condition. Wait, loved? Hot damn, he loved Vicky. Probably would have been better if he’d realized it
before
she shot him, but hey, better late than never.

“You, you big jerk. She saved your life.”

Ryan ducked his head. “I know.” He’d run and saved her, but she’d had to look after herself at the end. He couldn’t help seeing that as a failure on his part. “I just...I wanted to save her.”

Drew frowned. “You did, you idiot. And then she saved you. Sounds like great teamwork.”

He pressed his hand against his shoulder. “She shot me.” He was being a whiner, and he knew it. He just wasn’t ready to face it just yet, to admit it. She’d done great as a field agent. She’d been strong, calm, and focused. Well, maybe not
that
focused. He winced as he tried to move his arm. If she wanted to be a field agent, there was nothing stopping her. And that scared him most of all. Any resistance to the idea was his problem, not hers. She’d done good. Really good.

“And she used her left hand.”

“So?”

“She’s right-handed. That was a hell of a shot.”

“You’ve got to help me,” Jade gasped. “I’m in pain, I’ve been shot.” Her complexion was pale, and she moaned again, trying to move.

Ryan and Drew looked down at her for a full minute. For the first time in his life, Ryan was tempted to kick a woman while she was down. This woman had hurt Vicky, and had been intent on killing her. No sympathy. His mouth curved down in a sneer as Drew hunkered down by her side. Drew’s voice was low, but Ryan had no trouble hearing his words, or the threat loaded within them.

“You’re breathing,” Drew told her. “You’re making enough racket to hurt my ears, and you killed a very good friend of mine. I suggest you shut up, otherwise I could be tempted to finish what she started,” he said, jerking his head to the stairs Vicky had climbed. He leaned closer, his face just mere inches from hers, and Ryan watched as for once, Jade seemed genuinely wary. “So go ahead, tempt me.”

Jade tightened her lips, and Ryan nodded with satisfaction. Drew had shut her up.
Good
.

“I suppose we need to wait out the storm now. They’ve cut the lines. One of us is going to have to hike down until we get reception.”

Drew stood up, shaking his head. “Nah. The storm was beginning to calm when I arrived. I called Luke and Reese from the lower parking area. They’ve got a team waiting at the bottom of the mountain. As soon as it’s clear enough, they’ll chopper up.”

Ryan nodded. “And Simon?” He noticed Jade’s eyes widen at the mention of her husband’s name.

Drew smiled, meeting her gaze. “Oh, he’s secure. That was fun. I rigged it so that if he tries to escape, he’ll set off some booby traps.” As he finished speaking a clatter of crockery and pans was heard from the kitchen above, followed by a male scream of pain. Drew’s smile broadened. “That was the first warning. He won’t want to go a second time.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Ryan blinked. He must have dozed off. He looked up and frowned. The TV over his bed was on. He shifted, trying to find the remote, and hissed as the movement jarred his shoulder. Drew sat in the chair next to the bed, his feet resting on the side of the mattress while he scooped a yellow mess out of a little cup. Ryan frowned.

“Is that my pudding?”

Drew licked the spoon. “Uh-huh,” he said, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“I was saving that.”

“Yeah, thanks. Now, shh. Brooke’s doing something very, very bad.”

Ryan followed his gaze to the soap opera on the screen. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. She’s sleeping with that woman’s husband.”

“No, I mean you’re seriously watching this?”

Drew nodded as he leaned back in the chair. “Only while you play Sleeping Beauty.”

“Give me the remote.”

Drew sighed and handed him the remote. Ryan shook his head as he turned off the TV.

“You need help.”

“I know. It’s an addiction. Ever since the resort.”

Ryan rolled his eyes, and sat up, looking around for the call button. “I want to get out of here.”

“If you want the nurse, you missed her,” Drew informed him, and Ryan paused midreach.

“I did?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t,” Drew grinned holding up a slip of paper with a phone number written in blue ink. “You lucky son of a bitch. She’s gorgeous.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

Drew blinked. “Really?”

“Really.” She’d been nice enough, but every time she’d walked into his room he’d hoped it was Vicky, and had been disappointed each time.

“Huh. Interesting.”

“I want out of here.”

“Yeah, she mentioned that.” Drew pulled a folder from between his body and the chair’s armrest. “Here are your discharge papers. Just sign them, and we’re gone.”

Ryan nodded, and took the pen Drew held out.

“Didn’t notice, huh?”

“No.”

“Has Vicky been to visit?”

Ryan’s movements became jerkier as he scrawled his signature. “No.”

“Have you spoken to her at all since the resort?”

“Once.” He set the folder aside.

“Oh.”

They both sat there silently for a moment. “What did you say to her?” Drew finally asked.

Ryan frowned. Drew’s tone was almost accusatory. “Nothing.” He threw off the sheet and got out of bed.

“You spoke, but said nothing, and she hasn’t visited?”

“Right.” He fumbled around in the cupboard and pulled out the clothes Drew had brought in for him the day before.

Drew leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “What did you say to her?”

“Nothing...much.” He removed his sling, grimacing as he changed out of the drafty hospital gown into tracksuit pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt.

Drew nodded. “I see.”

Ryan clenched his teeth as he donned his coat. “She called, but then she hung up on me.” The shock and pain still felt raw. In that one brief phone call he’d gone from joyous to rejected, within the swing of a pendulum. He shoved his feet into his shoes without bothering with socks, or with untying the laces.

Drew nodded again. “I see.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t.”

Drew’s brow wrinkled. “So,” he began slowly, “you guys spend four days pretending to be married, she shoots you, and doesn’t come to visit you in the hospital. I thought you guys were friends?”

Ryan’s frown deepened. They were more than just friends, damn it.

Drew’s eyes widened. “Oh. My. God. You did it.”

“Shut up.” He opened the drawer for his wallet and the book Reese had loaned him.

Drew lifted his feet off the bed and leaned forward in the chair. “You did it. With Vicky.”

“Shut up.”

“What the hell did you say to her?”

“I don’t know.” He didn’t. Ryan straightened and finally met his friend’s eyes. He’d been so happy to hear her voice, to hear she was okay. “I told her I couldn’t wait to see her.” And then she’d hung up on him, and he’d sat in his bed, alone, listening to the dial tone, and feeling his heart shrivel. He didn’t like that feeling, the vulnerability.

Drew’s eyes narrowed. “What
exactly
did you say to her?”

Ryan tilted his head back, trying to remember. “I think I said something like, ‘hey, buddy. Looking forward to arm wrestling with you.’ She was so sorry about shooting me, I was trying to tell her that I was okay, that my arm would be all right, make light of it, you know?” He looked at Drew.

Drew blinked. “You told her you wanted to arm wrestle?”

“Yeah. Maybe have some beers, chat.” They had a lot to talk about, like how he couldn’t stop thinking about that night, and her in that sexy little nightie. Or how he’d felt like his heart was ripped from his chest when he couldn’t find her, and didn’t know if she was safe. He’d had a lot of time to think, lying in bed and gazing up at the ceiling. He...missed her. Missed her clothes all over the room, the little sighs and weird conversations in her sleep, the arguments that challenged his thinking, his decisions. He missed having her body next to his, the touch of her skin, the scent of her perfume. Not having her around was like learning to live in foster care. Painful, with an overwhelming sense of loss.

“Just curious, Ryan, but if you said that to any other woman, do you think it would work?” Drew looked perplexed.

Ryan frowned. “Vicky’s different. She’s my...friend.”

“So she doesn’t deserve roses and chocolates?”

“She does—but she prefers gerberas and Cheetos.” He donned his sling, wincing as he adjusted it on his arm. No chipped bones, no major damage. He had to admit, if he was going to take a bullet, Vicky’s was the best way to do it.

“Yet you offer her a couple of beers and an arm wrestle.”

“Shut up.” The way Drew said it made him sound like an idiot.

“She’s your friend, but she’s still a woman, Ryan. Do you want her?”

“Of course I do. I...I love her.” The words left his mouth as a whisper. She was his best friend, and he...loved her. Okay. There it was. He. Loved. Vicky. He loved her loyalty, her intelligence, her bravery. Her sass. He thought of how he’d handled the conversation. He’d panicked. He realised that now. Hadn’t known how to handle his feelings with Vicky, or how to take that next step. Now, though, he didn’t want to spend any more time without her by his side. He wanted her. All of her, always. Period. Had he told her that? No. He’d teased her for an arm wrestle.

“I’m an idiot, aren’t I?”

“Well, that goes without saying.”

“How do I fix this?”

“I don’t know, why don’t you try telling her?” Drew rose from the chair and they both left the room.

“She isn’t talking to me.”

“Oh. You really did mess up, didn’t you?” Drew said as he sauntered alongside Ryan.

“It’s just—I don’t want to ruin this. I don’t want to lose her.”

“Well, make it up to her. What does she like? Make it personal,” Drew suggested.

“Personal.”

“Yeah. Do something for her.”

Ryan nodded. “You’re right.” He paused in the hallway as an orderly wheeled an empty gurney past them, nodding his head in time to the music only he could hear through miniscule earphones. Ryan watched him for a moment.

“I have an idea.” They started to walk again.

“Good for you.” Drew smiled, and patted him purposely on his injured shoulder. Ryan shot him a dark look.

“I’m going to need help, though.”

“Anything, you name it.”

Ryan turned to him. “Thank you,” he said, his tone sincere. Drew could be a pain, the resident blabbermouth and a Mr. Nosey Parker, but he’d never doubted the man’s friendship, or his good intentions. It had just taken Vicky to make him see it.

Drew shrugged. “No problem. As long as you’re not organizing some beers and an arm wrestle to woo your girlfriend. I’ve seen what she can do with a loaded gun.”

Vicky stood before Reese’s desk as he stared up at her, his expression guarded.

“Would you mind repeating that?” he asked.

Vicky took another deep breath. “I want my old job back.”

“I see.” Reese put his pen down and leaned back in his chair, the Chicago skyline, dark and gray, behind him. “Mind if I ask why?”

Vicky nodded, shifting the sling around her neck to a more comfortable position. “Sure. I don’t like being on the front line. I thought I would, but I don’t. I don’t know how Ryan does it. Every time I spoke with a suspect, I felt sick to my stomach, anxious that they would figure out who I was and what I was doing. And the nausea, oh, God, the nausea. I felt like I needed to puke or pee the whole time. Much as I thought I would like being on the front line, I discovered I don’t. Actually, I hate it. I think I’ve got an ulcer.”

Reese’s eyebrows rose. “I see.”

Vicky took the seat opposite his desk. Her leg was beginning to hurt. It had been just over a week since her return from Hawke’s Ridge, and her injuries were still mending. “Ryan is very good at what he does.” She could admit that, because Ryan wasn’t anywhere around. He was on medical leave. He’d tried to call her a couple of times, but after the first “hey, buddy” she’d avoided his calls. It hurt too much. She didn’t want to be his buddy, damn it, she wanted more. She couldn’t pretend that night hadn’t happened. She shivered. Hell no, she didn’t want to. It had been...wonderful. Hot. Steamy. Beautiful.

Reese sat opposite her, waiting for her to continue. Okay, Reese didn’t need to know about the most glorious night of passion she’d ever experienced. Just the relevant facts.

“I found it...stressful. I hate admitting that. Ryan had to step in and cover my...behind,” she stopped as memories of him covering her behind rose within, and she tried to ignore the bloom of heat in her cheeks, “and we managed to apprehend the Maxwells, but so many people died, Reese. We could have, should have, been able to stop those murders.”

Reese frowned. “I see.” He swiveled in his chair. “I didn’t ask you to come in for a performance appraisal, Vicky.”

She lowered her eyes. “I know.” She hated feeling that she’d disappointed him, disappointed Ryan.

“But since you started it...,” Reese opened a folder on his desk. “In the total fallout, we have a dead plastic surgeon, a dead surgery assistant, a dead counselor, a dead maid and a dead guest.”

She nodded, blinking. It was terrible, just terrible what had happened. Those poor folks. Her thoughts turned to her friend, Orla, and she blinked faster. She was gone, she had to accept that.

“On the flipside, you were instrumental in apprehending two spree killers who were both on a psychopathic hunt for revenge. They were growing excessively more violent with each kill, they had clearly planned everything down to almost the last detail, and nobody knew who they were or why they were killing. The flipside of that body count was that those two had planned to kill every single guest at that resort. Kurt Valden has sustained serious head injuries, with some brain damage, but should make some form of recovery. Elliot survived his attack, as did Jennifer. Hank and Deborah managed to survive unscathed, as did Jeffrey. And you and your partner survived, although not without injury,” he said glancing at her.

“And that was my fault, too,” she whispered. She’d shot Ryan. She’d been horrified when she’d realized she’d injured her lover. Yes, damn it, lover. She loved him. Sure, there were times since then that she’d been tempted to shoot him again, but over all, she was dismayed that she’d hurt him.

“These people were fully intent, and capable, of doing more damage. You and Ryan stopped them. You have nothing to feel bad about, Vicky.” He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his desk. “The Maxwells are sick and twisted individuals. Our job isn’t to take responsibility for their evil deeds, Vicky. Our job is to stop them from doing any more. You did your job. Ryan gave you a glowing report. He actually said that he’d be proud to have you as a partner.”

Her eyes widened. “He did? I shot him.”

Reese’s lips quirked. “His words were ‘you did what you did to get the job done.’ And you got the job done.”

Vicky sat back.
Huh
. Ryan had praised her. Had even offered to work with her again in the field. He finally saw her as something more than a “travel coordinator” and she wanted to go back behind the desk. Maybe...? No. Just the thought of going through another experience like what had happened at Ultima Resort was enough to start her shaking her head.

“I’m sorry, Reese. I can’t. I feel out of control out there. I want to feel in control, coordinating from behind the scenes.”

Reese nodded and made a note on his file. “I understand. If you ever change your mind, talk to me.”

She nodded, relieved her boss was so understanding, particularly as she’d lobbied hard for the field agent role in the first place.

Reese held the file over the desk and smiled. “Welcome back.” She grinned back at him and rose from the chair to take the folder.

“Thank you, Reese.” She left the room, still limping, but grinning from ear to ear.

* * *

“No, thank you, Vicky,” Reese murmured, rubbing his hands together. Mal had taken on Vicky’s role while she’d been up at the resort, and quite frankly, he was driving everybody crazy.

He leaned back in his chair. Vicky was back to managing operations. Everything would return to normal. It had been a risk, letting her go out on a mission. He knew she’d be safe with Ryan. Everyone knew Ryan would sacrifice his right hand for Vicky. He chuckled softly. He almost had.

Reese was still impressed with Vicky’s success on the mission. Sure, he wouldn’t have let her do it if he’d thought she couldn’t cope, but she’d handled herself very well. The risk had been that she wouldn’t come back to the office. And if that had been the case, Reese would have accepted it, and given her his blessing.

Instead he could move Mal out of that post. His temporary assistant had started to snarl at clients. And his coffee sucked. And Noah—well, Noah had nearly come to blows with him over some logistics issue.

Yep, everything could return to normal. Well, almost normal. Ryan was still recuperating. Reese chuckled. Drew had told him about the incident. They were having baseball caps made. Speaking of Ryan...