Radclyffe - Oath of Honor

somewhere, injured, possibly seriously. “I need to go. I’m sorry.”

“I think the risk is slight, but keep the team in the vehicle until I

report. It’s as good as an isolation room.”

“Roger that.”

Wes hurried away, wondering if she’d ever find out what she’d just

delivered. Her job was done—some might consider she had no further

need to know. She jabbed the elevator button, rocked impatiently on her

heels during the one floor trip, and strode rapidly outside. The instant

she stepped out of the building, she called Cameron Roberts.

“Roberts.”

“How is she?”

“We’re at George Washington. The docs are looking at her now.

They’re saying guarded condition.”

Which meant anything from walking wounded to potentially

serious. “Can I talk to her?”

“They threw us all out, but she’s awake—I know that much.”

Relief rushed through her so powerfully Wes staggered. She braced

one hand against the rough brick of the building and lowered her head,

drawing a deep breath until the churning turmoil settled a little. “If they

let you in to see her, tell her…Tell her I’m on my way.”

“I’ll do that.”

“The specimen is secure.”

“I had no doubt of that,” Roberts said. “I’ll be with her until you

get here.”

“Thank you.” Wes jogged to the SUV and said to the agent driving,

“George Washington University Hospital, as quick as you can.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Wes settled in the back and closed her eyes. Her part of the mission

was done, and all that mattered was Evyn.

v

The glass door to the cubicle slid back and the curtain twitched

aside. The doctor, a harried guy in rumpled scrubs and a two-days’

growth of beard, walked in. He looked even more tired out of the space

suit.

• 265 •

RADCLY f FE

“I guess I’m not buggy, huh?” Evyn said.

“Your boss says only universal infection precautions are necessary,

and we use those with everyone.”

“Good.” Evyn relaxed, the tight spring of anxiety coiled in her

belly loosening. Wes must be okay if they’d determined the team wasn’t

at risk from the virus. “So—I’m out of here?”

“Not quite. The bullet just grazed the soft tissue at the top of

your shoulder.” He taped a rectangular bandage on the top of Evyn’s

shoulder. “You’ll get some swelling in your arm and a fair amount of

pain. An overnight stay and a pain pump—”

“No,” Evyn said. “I’m not staying.”

“I’d recommend it.”

“But you’re not requiring it?”

He sighed and shook his head. “Leave the bandage on for twenty-

four hours. The nurses will give you a prescription for antibiotics and

pain pills when you’re discharged.”

“Thanks,” Evyn said, stretching for her shirt draped on the nearby

chair. She winced at the burn in her shoulder and stopped. She didn’t

like being naked, but she didn’t want to give the guy any reason to

restrict her activities. “When can I go back to work?”

“You’ll need to have a wound check in forty-eight hours—you can

come back here, or—”

“That’s okay. I’ll see my own doctor.” She almost smiled at the

thought of just how true that statement was, but the pleasure faded

quickly. Wes had been the one closest to the virus. Maybe she’d been

exposed, but the rest of them were in the clear. She had to get out of

here and find out what was going on. She needed to see Wes. “So—

we’re done? Thanks for everything.”

He looked up from the chart. “I’d rather you see a surgeon. General

medical doctors don’t really have the experience to evaluate this kind

of wound.”

“She’s not—”

The curtains parted and Wes walked in. She wasn’t in uniform,

but then she never needed to be to look like she was in command. Her

eyes were stormy and fierce, fixed on Evyn. “I’m sorry it took me so

long to get here.”

“I’m okay,” Evyn said immediately. “It was nothing. A scratch.”

• 266 •

Oath Of hOnOr

“A little more than that,” the emergency physician said, studying

Wes. “You are?”

“Captain Wesley Masters—chief of the White House Medical

Unit.” Wes glanced at Evyn. “And her partner.”

“Oh, well then.” He tucked the chart under his arm and pushed his

pen into the ink-stained pocket of his wrinkled lab coat. “I guess you

can do the follow-up.”

“I think I can handle that. Thanks for taking care of her.” Wes

cupped Evyn’s face, brushed a thumb over her cheek. The ER physician

disappeared through the curtains and Wes leaned forward and kissed

Evyn softly. “Now, how are you really doing?”

“I’m good. Even better now.” Evyn circled Wes’s wrist and

pressed Wes’s palm to her face to reassure Wes, and herself. “I’d feel

even better with my shirt on.”

Laughing, Wes plucked the shirt from the chair, and the laughter

died. Blood stained the shoulder and collar. Her hands trembled. Today,

Evyn had been lucky. The next time, she might not be.

“You know it always looks worse than it is,” Evyn said softly.

“Right.” Wes held up the shirt. “This will have to do until we get

you home and into something clean.”

“I’m not going home,” Evyn said. “I want to get back to base for

a sitrep. Roberts left a while ago to interrogate the suspects. Tom needs

to be briefed, and—”

“Evyn,” Wes murmured, “you’ve been shot, you’ve been given

pain medication, and you need to rest. You’re on sick leave as of

now.”“What? You can’t—” Evyn stared, her brow furrowing. “Hell, you

can.”Wes said nothing, waiting for the anger and the resentment.

They’d had so little time to find their personal balance and now they

might never be able to. She had to pull rank—she had a duty to Evyn,

to the president, to Evyn’s team—she had to take care of her, no matter

the cost.

“You better like cats.”

“What?” Wes asked.

“Cats. I come with a cat. And if I’m going home, so are you. As

least until Roberts wants you back to debrief.”

• 267 •

RADCLY f FE

“You want me to drive you home?” Wes couldn’t quite grasp what

Evyn was saying. “You’re not pissed?”

“Sure I am. I don’t get why you don’t appreciate how superhuman

I am. After all, I’m a United States Secret Service Agent.”

Wes smothered a smile. Evyn’s pupils were pinpoints. The

medication was kicking in. “You are. And a stellar one.”

“So—you’re coming home with me, then?”

“I am.” Wes held up Evyn’s shirt. “This first.”

Evyn slid her good arm into the sleeve, and Wes helped her thread

the other sleeve over her injured left arm.

“We alone?”

“Yes.”

“I take it everything’s all right with the package? The doc ditched

his suits.”

Wes nodded. “I called when I got the preliminary from the lab on

my way in. The vial is intact.”

“You weren’t compromised out in the field?”

“No. I’ll take culture specimens from everyone to be complete,

but I think we’re all in the clear thanks to your quick work out there.”

Evyn started to shrug, then grimaced. Her shoulder burned. “Not

quite quick enough. I wasn’t expecting the gun, but I guess I should’ve

been. She’s military, after all. And on a mission.”

“I would’ve preferred if you hadn’t used your body to stop the

bullet.” Wes carefully buttoned Evyn’s shirt. She knew the risks of

Evyn’s job, accepted them, knew the overwhelming odds were she

would be safe, but there was always the threat that she would be hurt.

Wes gripped the material harder, hiding the tremor in her hands. She

kissed Evyn again. “You did well, all the same.”

“Huh. Maybe.”

Evyn pushed off the treatment table and swayed on her feet. “I

was watching the hand on the bag—I was afraid she’d pull the virus out

and toss the vial into the street as a diversion. It gave her just enough

time to get the gun out. Dumb rookie move.”

“Instinct. That’s what training is all about, right?” Wes slid her

arm around Evyn’s waist. Evyn might not need the support, but she

needed to touch her. Needed to be sure she was alive and well and hers.

“I love you.”

• 268 •

Oath Of hOnOr

Evyn rested her head on Wes’s shoulder, holding on to her with

her good arm. “I love you too. Sorry if I gave you a scare.”

“You did what you had to do. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you out

there.”“You were where you needed to be, doing what needed to be

done.” Evyn squeezed her. “Just like now. You’re here when I really

need you.”

“I always will be,” Wes promised.

“You haven’t met my cat yet.”

Wes laughed and softly kissed her. “Then we should go.”

“Yeah.” Evyn pressed her face to Wes’s neck. “I want you, you

know. Today. Every day. Feels good. Really good.”

“I know. I’ll be here.”

Evyn sighed. “So let’s go home.”

• 269 •

RADCLY f FE

chapter thirty-fOur

Derrick Sullivan slipped into the parlor and signaled discreetly

to Russo.

Russo smiled at the bejeweled, pencil-thin blonde by his side,

grateful for the interruption. He only suffered her vacuous conversation

because her husband was one of his largest campaign donors. “Will you

excuse me, Mrs. Winthrop?”

She pouted slightly. “Only if you promise to return.”

“As soon as I possibly can—I want to hear more about those

famous racehorses of yours.”

She brightened and fluttered her thick lashes. “I can’t wait.”

Russo threaded his way through the tuxedoed and coiffed crowd

to where his aide waited just inside the door. “What is it, Derrick?”

“Sorry to disturb you, sir, but you’re needed in the study.”

“Dinner is being served in fifteen minutes.”

“Yes, sir. Shall I tell the caterers to delay?”

“No, go ahead. I’ll be there.”

“Yes, sir.”

Russo ignored his wife’s questioning glance as he hurried out and

down the hall to his study. He let himself in and closed the door behind

him. Hooker lounged on a leather sofa facing the fireplace, one leg

crossed over the other, his arms stretched out along the back. At least

he’d worn presentable clothing, but he looked haggard—his face drawn

and creased with fatigue.

“It’s Christmas Eve,” Russo said, “and I’ve got a houseful of

guests. What are you doing here?”

“A problem,” Hooker said. “I could use a drink.”

• 270 •

Oath Of hOnOr

Russo clenched his teeth but walked to the bar on the opposite side

of the room and splashed whiskey into a glass. He set it on a polished

mahogany table next to the sofa and made his way behind his desk.

“You have ten minutes.”

Hooker leaned over and picked up the drink. “The exchange was