ATTEMPTS
Although it was still relatively dark in the room, Pax had no trouble realizing it was morning. However, she was completely exhausted. She and Donovan had spent almost the entire night making love. Surprisingly enough, she woke up first. There was a tiny sliver of light creeping through the blinds and she longed to put it out for a few more hours. She wasn't one for mush, exactly, but she truly didn't want the night to end. Her slight movements awakened Donovan. He said nothing. Instead, he reached for her and she willingly gave in to his embrace. He kissed her deeply, not immediately wanting to let her go. He was intent on making love to her yet again, but Pax began to giggle against his lips. Thinking that she might have lost her mind a little, he rose up and gazed down at her. What the hell? Pax said nothing. She discreetly pointed down to the foot of the bed. We have company. He moved away, ensuring that her body was properly covered. Neither of them had on a stitch of clothing. As expected, Stasia was at the foot of the bed waiting for them to notice her. As soon as Donovan was properly covered, she didn't hesitate to climb onto the bed between them. Of course, it was a rare occasion for them to still be in bed together after dawn. Usually Donovan was up and dressed way before now. Stasia was probably confused as hell. The little girl bestowed a bear hug on her father before turning her attention to Pax. Instead of letting Pax go after her hug, she hung onto her. After a few moments, Stasia fell asleep against Pax's body.
Donovan smiled a little and kissed Pax's temple. "You two sleep. I'll make breakfast."
Pax smiled a little when she saw that he had prepared omelets for them. When she cut into hers with her fork, she realized it was the same type of omelet he'd made for her a few days ago. She wondered vaguely if he had done this on purpose. Frank Donovan was one sneaky little fuck, but she loved him. No one else would do shit like that for her. When he sat down across from her, she couldn't help but look at him. Uh. I'm fucking making goo goo eyes at him. What the fuck is wrong with me? She looked away to pick up a forkful of the omelet. The first time he had made it for her, the thought of eating turned her stomach. This morning, it tasted like heaven. Sensing eyes on him, he looked up and noticed that she was gazing at him. He gave her an amusing 'what' look. Embarrassed […dear Lord Jesus, he caught me looking…], she looked away and tore into her omelet again. I feel like a kid here. What the fuck is happening to me? Before Donovan left with Stasia, he gave Pax a long, lingering kiss. It was another of those weird moments that was hard to explain, but neither of them wanted to try. He stayed with her as long as he dared. The moment the door was closed behind them, Pax headed straight for the bed. Just because I've agreed to marry him doesn't mean I have to break my routine. Of course, Pax wasn't the only one watching Donovan and Stasia leaving for the day. God, finally, Draper thought. It was time to make his move.
* * *
Pax could hear very slight movements downstairs. She was in the place between sleep and consciousness. She was pretty damn sure she was dreaming. However, she hoped she wasn't. Perhaps Donovan decided to come back. No. You're just dreaming, dumb ass. She didn't move from her spot. Instead, she settled herself firmly onto the soft mattress. She hugged her pillow even closer to her. She was tempted to grab hold of Donovan's while she was at it. It smelled like him. Although she had bitched and bitched again about his cologne, it was what she loved most about him. It was what she missed when he wasn't around. Of course, she'd never admit that. Not to his face anyway. She slipped deeper into the land of sleep and the noises downstairs continued. At the moment, it sounded as if someone was on the stairs. Again, she attached no significance to it. She simply lay still, smelling Donovan's smell, and smiling about the gentle way he had made love to her all night. She needed a repeat performance tonight if he was up for it. Come on, we're talking about Frank Donovan. Of course, he's up to it. He's always up to it. She found it funny how the person walking around was trying to do so quietly so as not to be detected. Almost immediately, she awoke and sat straight up, but her realization came just a moment too late. Before she could take a breath, a man had thrown his body on top of hers. She couldn't breathe because the fucker had his hands around her throat. She didn't know who the fuck this man was, but he was ugly. His hair was greasy and black, and his eyes were ice blue. His pasty face was obscured in an animalistic snarl. He intended to kill her. It was as simple as that. She didn't know this man, yet he wanted to murder her.
Pax struggled beneath him and managed to lift her leg. He apparently sensed what she wanted to do, because he settled his body more firmly atop hers. However, she didn't let up. If she did, she wouldn't see the light of day again. If she could have looked in a mirror, she would have seen that her face was turning an alarming shade of red. She couldn't breathe and the light in the room was growing dimmer by the second. She didn't quite give up. She continued lifting her leg, quickly raising its mate at the same time. They were skinny, chicken legs, but goddamn it, there was a lot of strength within them. Using her last bit of consciousness, she pushed with everything she had in her. It loosened his grip enough for her to take a hitching breath of air. Perhaps now, she would have a bit of a chance. She lifted her hand, readying to smash the heel of it up against his nose. Let's see if the fuck likes to feel bone splintering in his brain. He moved just before she dealt the blow. He rolled off the bed and took her with him. Somehow, Pax managed to roll away from him. She came up to her feet before the fucker even managed to get to his knees. Without thinking, she spun and kicked out at him, her foot connecting with his jaw. I hope I broke it, you son-of-a-bitch. He fell back against the side of the bed, upsetting it, nearly pushing it off the frame. Pax was in the process of giving the twisted fuck another kick when he reacted. He took hold of her foot and pushed backward. She felt the sinking sensation of falling and she hit the floor with an audible thud. Before she could recoup, the bastard was on his feet, coming toward her. She waited. Let him come. She would strike out again. She watched as he dug out a gun. Fucker can't handle a fair fight, so what does he do? He digs out a gun like a goddamn pussy. Amazingly fast on her feet […maybe I haven't lost my touch after all…], she was standing again. Her nose was bleeding, but she wasn't aware of it. He trained his weapon right between her eyes. Pax moved just as he pulled the trigger. The sick fuck watched as she dove down. She grabbed his ankle and yanked hard. He screamed out an incoherent curse as he came down to the floor. Pax began to scramble back up to her feet, but her attacker took hold of her leg. In a move Donovan had made many, many months ago, he used her leg as an anchor. Before long, he was on top of her, his rank breath fanning her face. He brought his gun up again and she took hold of his wrist. She could tell by the look on his ugly face that he didn't like how she fought back. Oh no he did not. She kept him from sticking the barrel of the gun into her abdomen, but wasn't so lucky with keeping it off her leg. Before she could scream out an indignant curse, he pulled the trigger, and she felt the hot searing pain of a bullet ripping into her flesh. Jesus Christ. She hadn't been shot since she defended Donovan's princess. Pax was certain he would finish her, but he didn't. Instead, he stood up and holstered his gun.
"Consider this a warning," he said.
Incredulously, Pax watched as he sauntered out of the room as if he were leaving a fancy party. The man had fought without making hardly any noise. It reminded her of her CIA days. Was this one of the fucks who wanted to clean her? She thought all that shit was in the past. When she heard the door close downstairs, she glanced down at her leg to assess the damage. She had no idea what shape her leg was in, but it hurt like fuck. Oh God. She was bleeding. There was no way in hell she could stand, much less walk. She cursed [SHIT] as she brought her body up into a half sitting position. The wound bled even more. Goddamn. What if the shithead hit an artery? She did the only thing she could think of. She took off her tee shirt and ripped a long strip from it. Maybe if she could set up some kind of rudimentary tourniquet, she could move just enough to get to the phone. She was no more than two feet away from it, but it seemed like five miles. After she tied a strip of her shirt around her leg, she gritted her teeth and turned to her side. It sent a jolt of pain throughout her body. Goddamn. Carefully, painfully, she crawled toward the phone. The crazy bastard who shot her had knocked it onto the floor when he upset the bed. She was still bleeding, so she knew she had to move her ass. When she finally reached the phone, she had to rest for a moment. She had forgotten how damn much getting shot fucked with the body. She rested for so long a time that her vision had begun to gray. Okay, Pax. Don't get all pussy. Wake up and dial the fucking phone. If you don't call Donovan, you might not make it. She was being just slightly melodramatic, she knew, but what the hell? What was life without drama? She wanted to laugh, but it hurt too fucking much. She dialed the number, feeling incredibly disconnected from her body, and listened to the ringing phone. She hoped he was there. When she heard his brusque greeting, she nearly started bawling like a baby. Good fucking God, what is happening to me?
"Frank? If you want me to walk down the aisle with you, I think you'd better come home." Oh, she wanted to laugh, but the pain was horrendous.
If she could see him through the phone, she would have seen a confused look painted across his face. "Jonella? What's wrong?" Her voice sounded strained, full of pain.
"Somebody broke in on me. I've been shot."
After those words left her mouth, he heard nothing else but dead air. He wasn't aware that she had passed out.
* * *
"Jonella? Baby?"
Baby? Who the hell is baby? Surely he isn't talking to me? I can't remember ever being anyone's baby. She wanted to open her eyes, but for a moment, she couldn't. Her eyelids seemingly weighed a ton. It had to be due to the surgery. They had operated, hadn't they? Well, maybe they didn't operate, actually, but the bullet had to be dug out. Thank God she was knocked out for that. However, she sure as shit didn't like the hangover. And Donovan called her baby. Hell. What was wrong with the world today? She actually didn't remember all that damn much. She recalled calling Donovan, but after that, everything was a huge blur up until she heard Donovan's urgent whisper. Baby indeed. She would never let him live that down. She finally won the struggle against the dope and she opened her eyes. Donovan was seated almost up against the bed. If her wound didn't hurt so goddamn much, she might have laughed. This made her think of the other times he'd been with her in the hospital. The first, of course, was when he had shot her. She had loved the fucking fuck even then and had told him so. Baby infuckingdeed. She couldn't believe that she had done that. I was drunk. That's it. That will explain it all. The drugs were fucking with her mind. She hated them, wouldn't have had anesthesia at all if the hospital hadn't insisted. It took forever for her to get over it.
He opened his mouth to speak again, perhaps to utter 'baby' once more, but she didn't give him the chance. "I'm okay," she croaked. Am I? Am I really? "I've been shot before. You should know that. You've shot me. Hell, I took several bullets to the chest and shit. I lived through that, even if it did hurt like fuck. It's not the first time and won't be the last I'm sure. And what's with this baby shit?"
Donovan sighed heavily. "Goddamn it, Jonella."
Before she had the chance to move, he was kissing her and doing so breathlessly. Apparently, he had forgotten that she was injured, but it didn't exactly bother her that much. She was overwhelmed and overjoyed that she had made it out alive. When she first felt his lips on hers, she was tempted to start pushing him away. For Pete's sake, she was fine. She had been shot in the fucking leg. No big deal. She came closer to dying from the hits to the chest than to the one in her leg. However, she found herself responding like she never had before. Her hands were in his hair and fuck if she wasn't trying to pull him over on top of her. He broke the kiss before things became a bit pornographic. The hospital just might frown upon such behavior. Neither of them was quite inclined to actually give a ripe fuck, but Donovan had no desire to be arrested and/or kicked out of the hospital. He still had to hunt down whoever had gotten stupid enough to fuck with her.
"What happened? Who did this to you," Donovan began. "Was it someone from the agency?"
She gazed up at him. Was it? She had been asking herself the same question since she felt the bullet zinging through her flesh. "I don't know. He definitely fought like a CIA man. No noise. I don't think he would have roughed me up like he did if I hadn't fought back. I don't think he expected that. He got pissed enough to try to make me eat a bullet, but he didn't. Instead, he shot me in the leg. He said something like 'consider this a warning.'"
Her words didn't sit well with him. Without another word, he stood and went to the phone at her bedside. She listened curiously as he made his call and asked Cody to call the hospital and then fax him a photo of Pat Draper. With a confused look on her face, she watched as Donovan darted out of her hospital room. What the fuck was going on? Had he gone over the deep end or some shit? After no more than five minutes, Donovan returned with a sheet of paper in his hand. Before he took his seat again, he stared down at the paper for a long time. He eventually sat down and passed the sheet of paper over to her.
"Was this the man who attacked you?"
She took the paper and gazed down at the face. The greasy black hair, the pasty face, and the beak-like nose were quite familiar. Oh yes they were. If the picture were in color, she would have seen his ice blue eyes. "Yeah. This is the fuck," she told him. Instead of giving him the photo, she balled it up and tossed it into the wastebasket beside her bed. "Don't tell me. This must be the guy who knocked off your ex and her husband, right? This is the fuck who did this shit, who left the evidence, and then allowed it to fall on your shoulders. God Frank, if you love me, you'll tell me I'm fucking wrong."
Donovan sighed angrily, immediately realizing that Patrick Draper had one fuck of a death wish. "I love you, Jonella, but there's no way in hell I can tell you you're wrong. Apparently, the secret is out. It doesn't help that we have a goddamn cop breathing down our necks. I'm not sure if she is aware of the damage she has caused. She probably led Draper right to you. He's hurting you to get to me. Just as he hurt Remy to get to Hilton." Before he spoke again, he took a moment to gaze at Pax. He had nearly lost her today and he couldn't fathom that idea. "I don't think it's a good idea for you to stay here without protection. If he came after you once, he'll do it again."
"Donovan, I can take care of myself," she told him stiffly. "But I do think you should worry about the kid. You might want to consider sending her to Florida to be with your folks. She's the only defenseless one here."
"Stasia will definitely be safer with my parents, but I'm not leaving you without protection. You cannot imagine the shit that was going through my head when I heard you were shot. You just don't know. I'll have one of the team stay with you until I get back from Miami. There's no way in hell you can watch your own ass in this condition."
"One of your team," she said. "Oh God, please no. Who? Not that Jake shit. Please not him, Donovan. Okay? Anybody but him."
Donovan shook his head. "Him exactly, Pax. Don't start any shit about this, okay? Someone needs to look out for you, and right now, it can't be me."
"Okay, fine," she said, sulking. "But if he says one word out of line, I'll smack him. I swear to God."
"I would hope that both of you can behave," he said. "I won't be gone for any more than two days if I can help it."
She watched as he approached the phone again. She listened as he made flight arrangements. When he hung up, she watched as he dialed the phone again. After a moment, he began speaking to Jake about his new 'assignment.' From listening to Donovan's end of the conversation, she was certain that he wasn't any more thrilled with the idea of guarding her than she was having him as protection. They argued a few moments before Donovan hung up. He noticed that Pax was watching him intently. He truly hated leaving her with anyone else, but he had little choice. He moved back to his chair by the bed and took her hand in his.
"I know you're less than thrilled with my bringing Jake here to stay with you, but I cannot allow anything else to happen to you, not unless I want to lose my damn mind. When he gets here, I'm leaving so I can get back as soon as possible. Promise me you won't do anything crazy. Promise me that you'll stay put for once. Promise me so that I can rest. If I were to lose you now, I can't imagine what would happen to me. Give me your word, Jonella. Give it to me now."
"I'll be good," she said, her voice slightly mocking. She sighed. "I'm sorry, Frank. I won't do anything stupid, I promise. Jake and I will have a grand old time while you're gone. Perhaps I'll teach him how to play Oh Hell.* I have to be completely honest here, I never feared death. At one time, I longed for it, wanted it. But I want something else now. I'll be good. I'll do whatever Jake tells me to do…within reason. Just get your ass back as soon as possible. Worry goes both ways, you know."
"I know," he told her. "I love you."
"I love you, too, you witless fuck."
_____________________
To be continued…
*Oh Hell—This was/is some type of hellishly difficult card game played with two decks and like two sets of die. After trying to learn how to play it once, I can readily see why it's called Oh Hell! J