The general tensed like a cornered rabbit.
Liam leaned closer. “That would be a damn shame too, because I can tell you—inside scoop?—they want you alive, if possible.”
They did? Although on second thought, of course they did. The military would want to interrogate him, find out how deep his espionage went. And listening to Liam manipulate the general with words as skillfully as he wielded any weapon, Rachel was humbled. A little awed.
And a lot grateful to have him on her side.
“General, being shot down or crashing isn’t any way for a hero like you to go out. Your life and career will be defined by people who aren’t fans of yours. You will never get a chance to have others understand your motives for doing what you did. History is written by the victors, and it’s rare to find a victor at the bottom of the ocean.”
“I’ll get to explain,” Sullivan echoed as if grasping a lifeline. His chest puffed with a sick, twisted bravado.
“Yes, sir,” Liam answered, giving the superior officer a subtle ego stroke with the sir. “You can be certain there are plenty of people on the ground eager to talk to you.”
General Sullivan’s throat moved with a long swallow before he keyed up the radio, calling in to the tower with his landing plan as if this were any normal flight. The egomaniac. Liam had played him perfectly.
The plane banked left, turning toward home in his smoothest move since they’d started this nightmare flight. Liam’s hand cupped Rachel’s shoulder. He never took his eyes or the gun off Sullivan. But his warm steady grip on her shoulder never left her. She covered his hand with hers and squeezed tight in a connection that went deeper than just comfort. Liam held on to her.
And she knew now, he always would.
***
Catriona begged, pleaded, and finally bullied her way in to see Brandon.
After an hour of searching, she’d learned he’d been sent to a larger medical facility off base. Then she’d paced for more torturous hours in the waiting area before being told he’d come out of surgery, but only family was allowed in to see him.
Once upon a time, she would have backed quietly into the shadows. But not any longer. She wasn’t blood related, but the only way hospital staff could keep her from him was to call in security, phone the cops.
And for their information, Lieutenant Brandon Harris was an air force security cop himself, and she was his girlfriend. Finally, finally, a sympathetic night shift nurse ushered her back if she promised to keep things quiet, and if the guard outside his door gave the okay.
“Of course,” Catriona said primly. “I’m always quiet.”
She ignored the chuckle from the wiry, older nurse and the guard as she pushed the door open into Brandon’s ICU room.
One look at him and tears clogged her nose. There were oxygen tubes. IVs dripped meds and what looked like a transfusion. His face was pale and puffy. Gauze was wrapped around his chest, his whole chest. How many times had he been shot? How many new scars on top of old ones would he have to bear for his country?
The nurse patted her shoulder. “He made it through surgery. That’s a good thing. You can sit with him and hold his hand. I’ll be right outside if you need anything.”
“Thank you…” Catriona choked out the words, trying to smile.
Her mom had been emphatic about manners, a good thing really. All the past frustrations at her parents felt so very small right now.
She pulled the chair closer to Brandon’s bed and took his hand, the one without IVs taped on top. “I’m so sorry this had to happen to you. But I’m here. I tried to bring Harley, but they wouldn’t let me, since she’s a therapy dog and not a service dog. Hopefully soon, though, we’ll work something out. For now, all the dogs are with Sunny. So don’t worry.”
Her voice faltered and she pressed her forehead to his arm, just letting the tears fall. She wasn’t sure how long she sobbed her heart and fears out, but the sheet was getting pretty wet and she needed tissues for her nose. Still, she didn’t want to let go. Touching him was reassuring, and they could toss her out at any minute. She would just stay like this a while longer, enjoying the way he stroked her hair—
He stroked her hair?
She looked up. “Brandon?”
“Yeah, Cat,” he answered, his voice a hoarse whisper, his touch heavy and a little clumsy. “It’s me. The others? Rachel?”
Clasping his hand, she pressed it to her cheek. “She’s okay. Everyone is all right. You did it. You called base security and alerted them. You relayed details it would have taken critical time to figure out otherwise. They got Rachel out alive and arrested General Sullivan.”
“Good. Thas… good…” His words slurred.
His eyes drifted closed and she tried not to be sad over that. He needed his rest.
Angling over him, she kissed his forehead and whispered what she hadn’t dared tell him when he was awake. “I love you.”