When the doctor finished stitching the gash on her forearm, Lindsey relaxed a little. The wound still hurt like hell. She had barely been able to contain the string of curses that had threatened to slip past her lips when the doctor had first began sewing the sutures in place.
When the doctor turned a corner and disappeared, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed her mother.
"Hello?" came Catherine's distant and distracted voice. She had clearly answered the phone without checking the caller ID, because she always greeted Lindsey in a way that showed that Catherine knew who was on the other line.
"Mom, come back to earth. I need you right now."
"Hey, baby. What's the matter? Something happened, didn't it?" Catherine was back, and all the attention that had been nonexistent only moments earlier was now baldly apparent.
"Yeah, I'd say so." Lindsey recounted the events that had taken place back at the house. "We're fine, Mom," she said when Catherine gave no response, then added, "Well, I am. The bullet got lodged in Drake's shoulder, and they had to surgically remove it. But I guess it's not that big of a deal."
It was a moment before Catherine spoke. "Was it Gedda?"
"How should I know? I don't know what he looks like. All I know was some fat slob tried to take me and Drake out, and failed miserably, because we're both still kick--" Lindsey broke off as her gaze wandered and fixed itself on the man that had just entered the ER. "Is this guy retarded or something?"
Lindsey jumped when her mother, obviously trying to get Lindsey's attention, nearly shouted, "Who?"
"It's the bastard who broke in. He's here." She slipped off the triage bed, moving behind the curtain and out of the man's line of sight. "What a dumbass."
"Did he see you?"
"No, I hid as soon as i saw him." Lindsey peeked around the corner, saw that the attacker's back was turned, and glided across the ER to the bathrooms, careful not to bring attention to herself.
"Just stay where you are. I'm sending Brass."
The call disconnected, and Lindsey leaned back against the bathroom door. An overwhelming sense of fear gripped her as the gravity of the situation finally settled its weight, crushing her, leaving her breathless. That's when the tears came.
Drake left the sterile area of the operating room, grateful that they hadn't needed to put him under to get out the bullet. He was also grateful that he was allowed to keep his gun on him, just in case. His shoulder throbbed, a dull ache limiting the use of his arm. Thankfully it was only his left shoulder, otherwise he'd have some serious issues doing his job.
As he entered the ER, he scanned the crowd for Lindsey. The realization that she was not amongst the throng of people wasn't what had him reaching for the gun at his hip, but the man that was sitting at one of the beds in the triage area, a doctor examining the stab wound in his side.
The man looked up at Drake, and fear as well as defiance were immediately branded in his eyes. Drake gave chase as the man shoved the doctor out of the way and made a beeline for the automatic doors of the emergency room's exit. The overweight clod's foot caught on an IV stand, launching him into the chairs that outlined the waiting area, toppling them with bull-dozing force.
The stranger flipped onto his back, groaning at the pain the effort caused him, as Drake approached him at a sprinting pace, not giving the man a chance to gather his wits. Drake aimed his gun at the man's head, only looking away long enough to see Jim Brass walk through the doors, gun in hand, presumably because of the screaming that had resulted from the short lived chase.
"Where's Lindsey?" Brass asked as he approached Drake, his gun also trained on the perpetrator's head.
"I have no idea. She wasn't here when I came out of the operating room. I didn't really have a chance to look for her, as you could probably imagine," he deadpanned, making a gesture at the man now being lifted to his feet and handcuffed.
Brass turned to the officers handling the man. "Make sure he gets patched up before you bring him to the station. We don't need any lawsuits because we denied him the medical treatment he came for." He turned back to Drake. "Go. Look for Lindsey. I've got this under control."
Drake nodded. "Sure thing, Captain Brass."
"Call me Jim." he paused. "I heard what happened. You saved Lindsey's life."
"I assure you, Jim, she did all the saving. If not for her, the bullet in my shoulder would have been joined by a bullet in my head."
Brass laughed a deep, gutteral laugh that Drake couldn't help but reciprocate. "Sounds like Lindsey. Just like her mother."
"No." He paused, a familiar feeling spreading within. "She's truly unique. I've never met anyone quite like Lindsey Willows." Brass fixed him with a knowing look, and Drake looked away, uneasy. "I'm, uh, gonna shut up and look for Lindsey now."
"Yeah, she needs you. Catherine said Lindsey sounded scared when she called."
"Right," Drake said quickly, hurrying away to begin his search. He paused for a moment, thinking of the first place someone would hide in a public place. The answer came to him almost immediately.
There was a knock at the door, and LIndsey's heart launched into orbit. "Just a minute," she called after an unsuccessful attempt to even her breathing.
"Lindsey?"
Drake. She wiped the stray tears from her cheeks before she stood and opened the door. "He's here, Cam. I saw him."
He tensed momentarily, then relaxed immediately. "I know. We got him cuffed. Once he's stitched up, Brass is taking him to the station for questioning."
"Thank God." Lindsey thoughtlessly threw herself into his arms as relief rushed through her. He grunted, and she winced. A moment later she stepped back--still only a few inches from him--and cringed at the look of pain on Drake's face. "Sorry. I forgot."
"It's fine. I'm just glad you're OK. You were smart to hide when you saw him." He pulled her back into an embrace, threading his hand in her hair, and she accepted the comfort gratefully. There was no sense fighting something she really needed. "I'm surprised Brass allowed him the luxury of medical treatment. Though I suppose he needed it. You really did a number on him, Lindsey. I'm impressed."
She looked up, stunned at the admiration that was showing plainly on his face. "Those self defense classes my campus offered really came in handy, huh?"
"Sure seems that way. Maybe I should take those classes. You saved my sorry ass tonight, you know? What are the boys at Quantico gonna say?"
His eyes sparkled with humor and vitality, and it was only then that she realized that the same tingling heat she had felt at the safe house had returned, and fire burned in her cheeks. She stepped back quickly.
"What's the matter?" he asked. The look in his eyes told her that she didn't need to answer the question. He knew exactly what was wrong, and he was playing the ignorance card. "You know you're safe with me, right?"
"Yeah, of course," she answered, confused.
"Because no one will hurt you while you're under my protection, Lindsey. No one." He stared pointedly at her, and almost instantly the humor returned to his light eyes. "At least, not again. But I will point out that I was incapacitated at the time you gave yourself that nasty cut."
"Yeah, OK. Keep telling yourself that, Cam." She laughed, stopping only when she saw the look on his face: a stupid grin, and she was bound to be annoyed when she found out what it was for. "What?"
"Oh, nothing." The grin widened, and she glared. "Only that you called me Cam. Twice. Within an hour."
"It's your name, isn't it?" she said innocently.
"I know that, but I didn't know you did. You always call me Drake."
"Well, now I'm calling you Cam. You have a problem with that?" She amped up the defiance in an attempt to intimidate him into dropping the subject.
"No. I rather like it, actually. I could definitely get used to it." Her eyes met his, and the look he was giving her alluded to the rising sexual tension between them. She blushed deeper. "I could also get used to that."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," she lied.
But he saw right through it. "Yes you do. You just don't want to admit that you could get used to this too."
"And understandably so. I'm not exactly experienced in this sort of thing." She looked down, crossing her arms across her chest defensively. "I lied. About why my boyfriend and I broke up. It wasn't because of school. It was because I..." she stumbled, and the blush grew deeper still.
"Because you wouldn't sleep with him?" Drake offered. She nodded. "Well, if it's any consolation, that wanker didn't deserve you. You're much too good for him."
"Oh? And how would you know?" she asked doubtfully.
"Perhaps I wouldn't, but what I do know is that you're smart, beautiful, tough--"
She cut him off. "Beautiful? You think I'm beautiful?"
"Yes, Linds, and you damn well know it." He stepped closer. "You see the way I look at you. I can't help it. And you look at me the same way."
"I do not," she said, a weak protest against the ever growing tension.
He smiled knowingly, but didn't call her out on it. "Alright, I'm going to drop this for now before you deck me. But this discussion is far from over."
Turning on his heels, Drake walked away, hand resting on the holster attached to his belt. Lindsey's mind was reeling with a slew of emotions, most unidentifiable. She shook her head in disbelief. She'd just have to brush this aside. Again.
With a strong sense of déjà vu, Lindsey exited the bathroom and left the hospital.