Chapter Seventeen #2
Alone in the hush, Skylar kept Rawley’s hand warm in hers. The hum of monitors and the soft hiss of the oxygen machine formed a lullaby. An hour later, a tap at the door startled her awake. She lifted her head and saw a tall figure step into the narrow rectangle of light.
He wore dusty boots and faded jeans, and a dark Stetson shaded his strong jaw. His belt bore a badge on his left hip, and a leather holster was on the other side, but it was the Kevlar vest with Livestock Agent stitched on it that caught her attention.
“Ma’am,” he said, voice low and calm. He put his hand out in greeting.
“You work with Rawley?” she asked, and noticed the way he carried himself, steady, disciplined.
He nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Agent Killian Doyle.”
“Skylar McCoy. It’s nice to meet you.” She offered her own hand. His grip was firm, reassuring. “I remember you came into the bookstore with Rawley about those men being there.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Killian’s gaze flicked to Rawley’s face. “How is he?”
Skylar sighed. “He’s sore. The doctor said he’ll be fine, but it’ll take a little while, with the lung collapse and all. His chest is covered in bruises.”
“I’m sure.” Killian winced sympathetically. “Those bullets hit him like a sledgehammer.”
“Please sit, Agent Doyle.” She gestured to the empty chair.
“Killian, please.” He gave a quick nod and settled in the other chair.
She leaned forward, voice dropping. “So, you got the men?”
He lifted his hat, ran a hand through dark hair, then spun the brim in his hand.
“As I told you on the phone, three are dead. We’ve got Axel Roby, the ringleader, and one more in custody.
” Killian exhaled, shoulders tensing. “Hill, the informant who tipped Rawley off about the theft, sold him out. He wanted to help Roby nail Rawley.”
“Why?” Skylar’s tone sharpened, and she caught Killian smiling, ever so slightly.
“They didn’t like Rawley keeping tabs on them. Most of those thieves think they’re invincible.”
“That’s what Rawley said. They only care about money.”
Killian studied Rawley’s sleeping profile. “When can he go home?”
“A few days, the doctor said, but it could take up to two weeks for him to heal.” Skylar looked at Rawley, watching his slow, even breaths. “I was so scared when you called.”
“I told you he was tough.” Killian’s eyes softened at her worry. “Rawley’s one of the best agents we’ve got. We all know we can count on him.”
She managed to smile. “I’m sure he can count on you too.”
He stood, brushing dust from his jeans. “Always. I’ll get going. I just wanted to check on him. Tell him I was here, and if he needs anything, he only has to ask.”
“I will. Thank you for saving his life.” She noticed the wedding band on the ring finger of his left hand.
“I just got him here. The rest was up to him.”
“His parents just left.”
“I talked to them. I should go before my wife starts to worry. Have a good evening.” Killian touched the brim of his hat and walked out, the door closing with a soft click.
Skylar exhaled, exhaustion washing over her. She sank back into the chair, curled Rawley’s hand around her fingers, and rested her cheek against the mattress. The steady hiss of the muted heartbeat in the monitor lulled her into a dreamless sleep.
****
Rawley opened his eyes to a blurry ceiling of white tiles, momentarily lost in the fog between consciousness and sleep.
The antiseptic smell and rhythmic beeping gradually reminded him; he was in the hospital.
When he tried to shift his right arm, he realized it was pinned down.
Skylar’s hair spilled across his forearm, her face peaceful in sleep despite the dark circles beneath her eyes.
A sudden movement sent white-hot pain lancing through his bandaged chest. He couldn’t suppress the sharp hiss that escaped through his clenched teeth.
Skylar’s head jerked up, her blue eyes wide and alert in an instant. She scrambled from the vinyl chair, its legs scraping against linoleum.
“Are you okay? Do you need the doctor?” Her voice was husky with sleep.
“No—” His throat felt like sandpaper. “Water, please.”
Skylar’s hands trembled slightly as she poured water from a plastic pitcher into a Styrofoam cup. She guided the bent straw between his lips. The cool liquid was heaven against his parched throat. He gave a weak nod when he had enough.
“How do you feel?” Her fingers touched his hand.
“Like I got shot three times.” He leaned back into the thin hospital pillow that crinkled beneath his head. “When can I get out of here?”
“A few days.”
“No. I want to go home.” The fluorescent lights overhead made his eyes ache.
“You will listen to the doctor, Rawley.” Her tone brooked no argument. “I’ll be here with you. Oh, Agent Doyle was here checking on you.” A smile softened her worried expression. “He’s very good-looking.”
“He’s married.” The words came out more gruffly than he intended.
Skylar laughed. “So, I can look, can’t I?”
“No.” He caught her gaze, drinking in the sight of her. “I’ve missed you, Skylar.”
“I missed you too.” Her voice dropped to a whisper.
“Did Killian say anything about the men?” The stakeout flooded back.
“Three were killed and two are in custody.”
“Which two?” His heart monitor picked up pace.
“Axel somebody and the guy who talked with you.” Her cool fingers found his, squeezing gently. “Killian said he set you up.”
“Damn it. I knew he was lying.” The surge of anger sent another wave of pain through his chest, forcing a groan through his gritted teeth.
“Rawley, relax. You’re going to hurt yourself.” Worry etched lines around her mouth.
“I already hurt. I want out of here. I want to talk to them.” He tried to push himself up, IV tubes pulling taut, but pain made him stop.
“That is not going to happen, Agent Bowman.” The authoritative voice from the doorway belonged to a man with salt-and-pepper hair and a stern expression.
“Dave…” Rawley sighed, recognizing defeat.
“Nope. Not happening, Rawley.” Dave crossed his arms over his chest. “You will take time off to heal. Those men will be taken care of. Killian’s on it.”
“It’s my case.” Rawley’s voice was hoarse.
“Okay. You show me you can get out of that bed, and I’ll let you talk to them.” Dave smirked, his weathered face crinkling at the corners, badge glinting under the fluorescent lights.
Rawley shook his head, wincing at the movement. “You know I can’t.”
“I do. You have a collapsed lung and two cracked ribs. You are not coming back until a doctor releases you to return to duty. That’s that.” Dave’s tone was firm; his shoulders squared beneath his shirt.
“Yes, sir.” Rawley huffed. “Alright, but please keep me in the loop.”
“Killian will,” Dave said then looked at Skylar, his gaze softening at the sight of her. “Ma’am, I’m this stubborn man’s boss, Dave Merkle.”
“Skylar McCoy. It’s nice to meet you.” She offered a small smile; her fingers still intertwined with Rawley’s.
“You too. I just wanted to stop in and see how you’re doing, Rawley. You take it easy.”
“I will.”
“I’ll make sure he does,” Skylar said, her tone gentle but resolute.
Dave nodded, a knowing look crossing his face. “I’d listen to her if I were you. She looks like she can handle you.”
Rawley chuckled, then hissed in a breath, his free hand instinctively moving to his bandaged chest. “Damn.”
“I’ll see you soon.” Dave looked at Skylar, tipping his head respectfully. “Ma’am.” Then he walked out, his heavy footsteps fading down the antiseptic-scented corridor.
Rawley held Skylar’s hand and squeezed it until she looked at him, the moonlight shining through the window.
“I’ll have Killian get my dogs.”
“I can get them. In fact, I’ll go tomorrow before I come here.” Her thumb traced circles on the back of his hand.
“Are you sure?” His eyes searched hers.
“Yes, of course.” Her voice was warm, unwavering.
Rawley nodded. “Could you do me a favor?”
“Yes, what is it?” She leaned closer, the scent of her vanilla perfume momentarily masking the clinical hospital smell.
He grinned. “Kiss me.”
She laughed. “My pleasure.” She carefully leaned over him, her hair creating a curtain around their faces as she pressed her soft lips to his. He lifted his hand, cupped her cheek, lifted his lips, then stared into her eyes, which were bright with unshed tears.
“Do you know what I thought when I was shot?” His voice was barely above a whisper.
“That it hurt?” A teasing smile played at her lips.
“Smartass. I thought about nothing but you. How I never said what I should have.” His thumb brushed across her cheekbone.
“What’s that?” Her breath caught.
“That I love you. I should have told you, but I didn’t want to tell you before I got those men.” The confession hung in the air between them, as tangible as the beeping monitors around them.
“You love me?” Her voice trembled slightly.
“Very much.” His eyes never left hers.
“I love you too.” The words rushed out, like she’d been holding them back too long.
Rawley grinned. “I know.”
Skylar gasped. “You do not.”
“I do. I can feel it in the way you look at me and touch me.” His voice was tender, knowing.
“I have for a while now.” A blush crept up her neck.
“We’ll talk about this later. Right now, I need something for this pain again.” His face tightened, betraying his discomfort.
“I’ll get a nurse, so you don’t have to move. I’ll be right back.” She squeezed his hand once more before standing.
“Okay, baby. I’ll be here.” His attempt at humor was undercut by the strain in his voice.
She smiled then walked out the door, her footsteps quick on the linoleum floor. Next was asking her to marry him, Rawley thought as he watched her go. Damn. That scared him more than going on a stakeout in the worst part of town on the darkest night.