The Christmas Target

But she still needed to see Beatrice. For both of their sakes.

“Okay,” she agreed, because she didn’t know how she’d make it to the ICU any other way.

“And how about you sit and wait while I do it? I don’t want you to fall while I’m gone.” He was moving her backward, his hands still on her shoulders.

She could have stood her ground. But her legs were shaky, and when the back of them hit the bed, she would have fallen if he hadn’t been holding her.

“Careful.” He helped her sit, his tie brushing her cheek as he reached for the blanket and pulled it around her shoulders. Yellow. That’s what color the tie was. With a handprint turkey right in the center of it. Only a guy like Chance could wear a tie like that and still lead the most prestigious hostage rescue team in North America.

“Nice tie,” she murmured.

He crouched so they were eye to eye, smiled the easy smile she’d noticed the first day they’d met. The one that spoke of confidence, kindness and strength.

“A gift from my niece for Thanksgiving. I promised I’d wear it to my next meeting.”

“And you always keep your promises.”

For a moment, he just stared into her eyes. She could see flecks of silver in the dark blue irises. He had the thickest, longest lashes she’d ever seen, and when they’d dated, she’d told him that.

“I try,” he finally said. “I’ll be back in a minute. Don’t leave the room without me. They still haven’t found the guy who attacked you, and I don’t want to take chances. Boone is outside the ICU, making sure your grandmother is protected. You’re my assignment.”

“I’m your what?” she asked, but he’d already straightened and was heading out the door, pretending that he hadn’t heard.

If she’d had the energy, she would have followed him into the hall and told him just how likely it was that she was going to be anyone’s assignment. She’d been taking care of herself for years. Daniel had been part of an elite Special Forces unit and had been gone more than he’d been home during their marriage. When he was home, he’d been distant and unapproachable. She’d loved him, but their three-year marriage had been tough. If she was honest with herself, she’d admit that she wasn’t sure if it would have survived.

She’d wanted it to, but she and Daniel had both had their demons. They’d only ever fought them alone. That didn’t make for a good partnership. She knew that now. Maybe because she’d spent the last few years fighting beside and with Chance.

“Not the time,” she muttered. She had more important things to think about. Like the fact that the police hadn’t found the man who’d attacked her.

Men?

She still wasn’t certain.

If she had her cell phone, she’d call the local sheriff’s department for an update, but she’d left it at the house. There was a phone beside the bed and she picked up the receiver, tried to remember the sheriff’s number. Her mind was blank, her thoughts muddled. She dropped the phone back into the cradle and grabbed her pajamas from a chair near the window. Someone had folded them neatly. Her galoshes sat beneath the chair, side by side.

Chance?

She could picture him folding the clothes, setting the boots in place. Everything precise and meticulous.

She walked into the bathroom. It took a second to pull the IV from her arm, took a couple of minutes to wrangle herself into the pajamas. Her hands were shaky, her movements sluggish, but she didn’t want to be running from the bad guys in a too-big hospital grown.

Running?

She’d be fortunate if she could crawl.

Damp flannel clung to her legs and arms as she splashed cold water onto her face and tried to get her brain to function again. No dice. She was still woozy and off balance. A concussion? Had to be. She lifted the gauze that covered her temple, eyeing the wound in the mirror. The bump was huge and several shades of green and purple. No stitches. Just a long gash that looked like it had been glued shut.

She had a bandage on the back of her head, too. She didn’t bother trying to see. She felt sick enough from the effort she’d already put in.

Someone knocked on the bathroom door. One hard, quick rap that made her jump.

“Hold on,” she called, grabbing the handle and pulling open the door.

Chance was there.

He didn’t look happy.

As a matter of fact, he looked pretty unhappy.

“Why am I not surprised?” he asked, his gaze dropping to her pajamas and then jumping to the IV pole.

“You’d have done the same,” she responded.

“True, but that doesn’t mean I approve. You have a concussion. You’re supposed to be resting.”

“I’ll rest better after I see my grandmother.”

“You won’t rest. You’ll be out hunting down your attacker unless someone is there to stop you.” He took her arm, the gentleness of his touch belying the irritation in his eyes.

“No one would dare try,” she responded, jabbing at him like she always did. Usually, he jabbed right back, but this time he just shook his head.

“How about we not test that theory, Stella? Because I have better things to do with my time than babysit someone who won’t follow the rules.”

“I hope you’re not talking about me.”

“I told you. You’re my assignment. Or rather, keeping you safe is.”

“Since when?”

“Since about two nanoseconds after you collapsed on your way to my car. Sit.” He gestured to the wheelchair that was near the bathroom door.

“I’m not a dog.”

“Trust me. I am very, very aware of that.”

She was suddenly self-conscious in her wet pajamas. But this was Chance. He’d seen her looking a lot better, and he’d seen her looking a whole lot worse. They’d crossed a river together once, emerging on the other side soaked to the skin and shivering with cold.

Yeah.

This was Chance. There was nothing he didn’t know about her and no situation he hadn’t seen her in.

She blushed anyway, dropping into the wheelchair so quickly that pain exploded through her head.

Her eyes teared but she didn’t close them.

If Chance realized how much pain she was in, he’d insist that she get back into bed. Truth? She didn’t think she’d have the energy to fight him. She felt so tired, she thought she could close her eyes and sleep forever.

“Maybe this isn’t a good idea,” Chance muttered, grabbing the blanket and tossing it over her legs.