Page 23 of Long Past Deadly

She threw back the covers, wishing for clothes instead of this beige flowered patient gown. “I’m not talking about this here.”

The words were shaky, not firm like she intended.

Mackey pulled back the curtain, and she took the moment of distraction to let go of Quaid’s hand and stand. God dammit, she’d do this on her own two feet. Mackey had clothes over his arm and shoes in his hand. She lifted her arm and made a gimme motion with her hand.

He eased into the room like a soldier on patrol waiting for an ambush. “Everything all right here?” She read the question in his eyes more than heard his words. He dropped the clothing and shoes on the end of the bed.

“It’s good. Go outside and wait for me.” Alanna lifted the phone from the covers and handed it to Mackey without looking at him.

“We’ll talk about this when we get to QM.” The intense expression in Quaid’s eyes deepened his eye color, but his face stayed as still as stone. He didn’t push even though he must have wanted to. The restraint touched her. Gratefulness. Partner. Family. She couldn’t label it exactly. But he wasn’t forcing the issue, and she needed the time.

He pulled open the drape again with a quick tug and waited for Mackey to go first.

He pointed at the floor outside the cubicle. “I’ll be right here.” He mouthed it as much as said it.

Alone, yet not, she laid out the clothes. Studying the jeans, red shirt, and denim jacket, she shook her head. Niles. The man was uncanny. These were her styles, her colors, and her comfort zone. And a new pair of her favorite black work shoes. “How does he do that?”

Sore muscles and cuts and bruises aside, she dressed with a care to her injuries and chewed her lip while trying to sort out what to tell the two men and what to protect. Not a good strategy. She’d reviewed the stellar work they’d done on one case, and from her own experience knew the more information they had, the faster they could accomplish solving the problem.

The brush and ponytails wrapped in the jacket stymied her, but she stayed in motion, brushed her dark hair, and pulled it from her face into a low ponytail. She couldn’t be at a disadvantage from now on. She wouldn’t have a repeat of years ago.

She shivered and finished tying her shoes. Leaving the ugly gown on the patient bed, she drew in several breaths, then pulled the curtain. True to his word, Quaid was right there, in the way, his back to her.

He turned and checked her over. “Bets has your paperwork. Quick signature and we’re out.”

She frowned and sorted through what he could have said. Bets appeared at her side. Question answered. Charge nurse. Instructions. Signature.

The woman handed her a pen, pointed out the signature spots, and gave instructions to Quaid. She wanted out and away from here enough that she didn’t even blink. Adding the hearing issues to the instruction process would have stretched her last nerve to snapping.

Mackey stood at the care station on the phone.

Bets made a ‘you call me’ sign and Alanna nodded to reassure her.

“Let’s go. Our medic can handle anything else.” Quaid took her elbow. Mackey came to her other side.

Step by step, she followed the lead of the two protective men. They had no idea what was coming at them and still they protected her. She had trained hard to be FBI and mastered every ability that gave her an advantage. She could take care of herself, but their support breached deep, touching a part of her she never let anyone near.

&&&&&&&&&&

Quaid startled when Alanna’s head dropped to his shoulder, the tips of black hair brushing his shoulder. He growled low in his throat. In the backseat of the SUV with Mackey driving and Marcus Delaney running shotgun, he’d stuck close, hoping to keep her awake. But she was asleep as predicted, and his baser instincts were at war. Shake her awake and demand answers or cuddle her close and take care of her. Jesus, what was wrong with him?

It was funny really. With his globe trotting parents and a grandfather whose attention was on the business at all hours, he’d learned growing up to keep his needs closed up tight and to pretend he didn’t care. Even when he’d lived with his grandfather as a ‘safe’ alternative, he’d been left to staff. Without a doubt his grandfather loved him in his own way, but expressing it was not in his playbook. The experience refined who he trusted and who he wouldn’t.

Then he became a Marine and joined the CIA, and he kept his activities and emotions closed off until Mackey, Hunt, and Cait plowed into his life with the force of a missile from a rocket launcher. Cait saving his life had turned her into a true friend – one who he confided in and trusted. Mackey was hardheaded and decisive and resolved from first meeting they would be friends, giving Quaid no quarter. And Hunt… the man was everything he wanted to be – from warrior, to friend, to husband. The three had turned into brothers in a blink of an eye.

He lifted a hand to shift Alanna’s hair, the texture a sublime balm to his senses. He eased her closer, trying not be obvious about making her more comfortable. Taking care of her apparently was winning.

Mackey glanced at him in the rearview mirror and frowned. “Guess we aren’t talking anytime soon.”

Tired in thought and muscle, he accepted this wasn’t a good combination for mystery exploration. He’d miss details which were going to be important. “She needs some rest. Frankly, so do I.”

“We need a direction from here or we’re stuck.” Mackey changed lanes to make their exit.

“I know.” He watched the heavy traffic flow around them, checking cars and sorting questions.

“Would the FBI have told us if she was involved with something that mattered, Mac?”

“Short answer. No. Having no direct experience with their agents, I’d still say no. They protect their own cases like we do.”