“I’m a doctor. I’m here to check you over while the military docs take care of your guy there. Trust me.” Aiden worked some kid of magic that maneuvered a quick seat shuffle so she could sit by Hugh’s head. Her brother reached into a first-aid kit and pulled out a stack of antiseptic wipes. He tore one open; the scent of alcohol stung her nose.
“I’m not hysterical.” Anymore. Although she wondered what he intended to do next with those wipes. “I just want to be near Hugh.”
Aiden crouched in front of her, his eyes so serious behind his glasses. “I hear you, but how about we clean you up before you see him.” He swept the medicated cloth over her cheeks. “And I do need to make sure you’re okay.”
She winced at the sting.
“Just a scrape,” he said calmingly. “And some cleanup.”
He tossed aside the wipe—stained red—and ripped open another. Only then did she realize she had blood on her arms. From Jocelyn. Amelia shivered in disgust and residual fear as her brother cleaned her up. The past hour became all too real. She’d been that close to dying. The whole horrific moment replayed in her mind, frame by frame as if in slow motion, until the logical part of her legal mind snagged on a stray detail.
“What about the military nurse? The one that took the baby from Jocelyn?”
“Security detained her back at the airfield, along with the child,” he explained as he tossed away the final wipe. He checked her pupils and took her pulse.
“And Jocelyn Pearson-Stewart, the woman who held me at gunpoint?”
He shook his head. “She’s dead.”
Nausea welled again. “I only wanted to make the woman surrender. It never crossed my mind that she would turn the gun on herself…”
Her big brother took her hands and squeezed.
“Deep breaths, kiddo, deep breaths,” he said, just as he’d done when he taught her to drive and she’d freaked out over stalling at an intersection. “She made the decision to end her life. You did not put the gun in her hand and you were not the one who took someone hostage. Her decisions. Not yours.”
She felt some calm ease through her veins. What had happened today wouldn’t leave her anytime soon, but her brother had given her enough peace to hang on when she desperately needed to stay in control. “When did you get to be so wise?”
He glanced across the plane at Lisabeth and smiled. “I married a woman who brings out the best in me.” He squeezed her hands again. “Thank you for everything you and Hugh did for us. There’s no way we can ever repay you, but know we are here for you and for him. Anything either of you needs. The sacrifices you both made to keep Joshua safe…”
Aiden pulled his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose.
And her brother didn’t even know the half of how difficult the journey had been for Hugh. He was a larger-than-life man for more than just his strength and survival skills. The way he’d bolstered her spirits as much as her steps. He had a core-deep strength of character that was rare to find.
And that fast the roots of her hair started tingling. Her eyes slid back to Hugh and she realized… She didn’t just think she loved him. She knew.
She loved him, so much she wondered if there could be such a thing as too much. She’d almost missed out on it back on the island, her feelings all tangled up in the sex and survival and adrenaline and, yes, also in the heartrending stories of a man who adored his family. Hugh was a man who could stroke magic from a guitar as fluidly as he did from her body. A man who tenderly held a child even when doing so exposed old grief.
He was everything a man should be. Everything she’d wanted when she got married before.
And when he opened his eyes again—she refused to believe he wouldn’t—she was going to make sure he knew she never intended to let him go again.
***
Hugh punched through the layers of consciousness, knowing there was some reason he couldn’t sleep in today. He tried to roll over, but he must be tangled in the sheets because somehow his legs were trapped.
“Hugh?” Amelia’s voice penetrated the fog. “You need to be still.”
His mind traveled some intriguing paths of exactly what she might have in mind for him, except the more awake he became the more he realized he hurt like hell. His leg. His head. Both throbbed like a son of a bitch.
With the pain, the memories came flooding free, of Jocelyn taking Amelia hostage, of the earthquake after. His eyes snapped open. He opened his eyes and instead of a sky, he saw a metal roof with cables, heard the roar of jet engines.
Amelia leaned over him, smiling, tears streaking tracks through the grime on her face. God help him, she was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen.
“Amelia?”
She touched his face with featherlight strokes. “You hit your head, which is why you passed out, and your ankle’s broken. You’re on an airplane heading to the States.”
He grinned back at her. “Which means you are on a plane heading to the States.”