Next to Die (33 page)

“Honey, you have nothing to worry about,” Penny comforted, even as she crossed her fingers in her lap. With Vinny barely out of his teens, his mother might be shocked and horrified to meet “the older woman.”

“You think?” Lia asked. “Vinny says she’s really nice and that she’ll love me the minute she sees me.”

“It might take her a little longer than that,” Penny cautioned practically.

Lia hadn’t asked her what her own holiday was going to look like. She could hardly believe it herself, but if she didn’t take a lengthy absence from Joe, she was going to buckle under her growing love for him, tell him how she felt, and send him running in the opposite direction.

No, the only option was to put distance between them, both physically and emotionally. If she came home to find another woman on his arm, so be it. She’d known what he was like when she agreed to an affair. Naiveté could be crippling. Penny had learned that lesson the hard way.

“Good morning, Admiral,” Penny called as she pushed open the door of the third examination room. Admiral Jacobs was here for his weekly therapy.

She found him seated on the examination table, his cane close at hand. “Where have you been?” he demanded. His watery blue eyes impaled her, scrutinizing her in a way that struck her as odd.

“I took some personal leave time,” she explained. “You shouldn’t have canceled your last appointment just because I wasn’t here. Commander Sparks is just as capable at keeping your knees from stiffening.”

“Nah,” the old man growled, waving away the suggestion. “She’s too rough.”

“Well, I wish my contribution could be greater, sir, but I’m afraid I have some tough news for you. I’ve taken a detailed look at your statistics, and I’m going to have to recommend surgery at this point. We haven’t made enough headway with manipulation techniques. You’re going to need a double knee replacement.”

When her words got no visible reaction, Penny tried again. “Do you understand what I’m saying, sir? You’ll never walk normally again, climb stairs, tie your shoes, unless you have surgery.”

“Suit yourself,” he said, with a shrug and that same penetrating stare.

Puzzled by his reaction—after all, surgery at his age was a huge and unpleasant obstacle to face—Penny pulled a pen from her breast pocket and made a note for the surgeon.
Check patient’s mental state
.

“I’m going to send Commander Huxley in to talk to you today, rather than go into our usual routine,” she warned him.

The admiral kept quiet.

“You’ll need to slip your slacks off,” Penny instructed, “and put on a patient’s gown.” She bent to fetch a gown from the drawer beside his feet.

As she placed it next to him, she saw him reach into his pockets as if to empty them. She turned to make her way to the door when he lifted his cane, blocking her path. He startled her by leaping off the examination table, moving faster than she would have ever given him credit for.

“I hate to do this, Lieutenant,” he rasped, gripping her arm to keep her from stepping back. “But I can’t take unnecessary risks.”

Perplexed and thinking he’d lost his mind, Penny opened her mouth to soothe him. But then she saw what looked like the needle of a syringe flash in his left hand. Dear God! In the next instant, she felt the needle prick her skin.

“No!” she exclaimed, jerking her arm back, backing away from him. “What are you doing?” she cried.

“Cleaning house,” he answered, chasing her. “I had no idea you were Danny Price’s daughter. Price is such a common name.”

Penny sought to hold him off, but he was amazingly strong and swift. To her horror, he seized her, whirled her around, and clapped a hand over her mouth, hauling her against his bigger frame. “Now hold still,” he growled, “or this will leave bruises.”

She twisted with all her might, managing to wrest free. “Wait,” she gasped, backing away from him again, eyeing the door on the far side of the little room. “Wait! I’m sorry about your son,” she stammered, as all the loose pieces fell into place. “It’s a travesty what happened to him, what happens to so many of our soldiers. But I had nothing to do with that, sir. You can’t kill me. That would make you the guilty one. You’re a patriot, sir, not a murderer.” She filled her lungs, preparing to scream for help.

“In times of war, my dear, even a patriot is forced to do the unthinkable.”

“But I’m not the enemy.” Strange, but her voice seemed to come from a great distance. A sudden ringing filled her head. The floor beneath her feet tilted, and she collapsed, falling across the therapy table. Oh, God. Whatever was in that syringe had gotten into her blood. She was going to die, after all!

Joe leaned an elbow on the clinic’s counter and cast Petty Officer Davis his most winning smile. “Good afternoon, PO3.”

She looked up, recognized him, and smiled back. “Well, hello, sir. Do you have an appointment today?”

“No, but I was hoping you could work me in.” He needed just fifteen minutes of Penny’s undivided attention. He had something important to ask her.

“Ah,” the aide winced, “I don’t know. The lieutenant’s with Admiral Jacobs right now. That usually takes a while.”

An unpleasant feeling stitched through Joe. Ah, yes, the admiral who’d known so much about him. “I’m sure she’d want to see me,” he cajoled, glancing into the offices behind the aide. “Where’s her U.S. Marshal?” he wanted to know.

“Oh, he went to get a soda from the snack machines,” said the aid.

“Really?” Joe’s consternation mounted. “I need to talk to Penny,” he said, with no leeway in his tone this time.

She eyed the schedule earnestly. “Okay, sir. How about if I squeeze you in right after she’s finished with the admiral?”

“Thank you.”

“Follow me on back, sir,” she invited, getting up to open the door.

Trailing Davis down the hall, Joe was aware of a rising sense of unease. He drew to a stop, ignoring Davis’s inquiring glance, to query his nagging sixth sense. What was it about Penny being alone with the admiral that disturbed him so much? Was it just that the man had messed with Joe’s mind, trying to convince him that someone was to blame for the failed mission? He’d seemed a little fanatical about it. Of course, he had lost a son to friendly fire, outside of Nasiriyah.

Friendly fire
. The words exploded in Joe’s head.

“What room is Penny in now?” he demanded of Davis.

“Sir, you can’t— ”

The clatter of a metal container had Joe pivoting toward a door on a different hall. Without pausing to knock, he depressed the latch and pushed his way inside. What he found scared the shit out of him. Penny lay on her stomach across the examination table, her grip slipping on the leather and the paper sheet. Admiral Jacobs hesitated in the act of rounding the table with a syringe in one hand. He swung his gaze between Penny and Joe as if deciding which of the two presented a greater threat.

“What did you do to her?” Joe demanded as Penny continued to slip. He rounded the table from the opposite side and hooked an arm around her waist, catching her before she hit her knees. The admiral lunged in the same instant, bringing the needle down on Joe’s back, but it slipped on the canvas material of his jacket. With a hundred-and-eighty-degree turn, and Penny in one arm, Joe lifted a forearm to deflect another jab. The syringe flew out of the admiral’s hand and struck the wall.

“Get help!” Joe shouted at Davis, who stood at the doorway, gaping. Davis took off. Penny lolled limply in Joe’s one-armed embrace. The thought that she’d become the admiral’s latest victim nearly paralyzed him.

But the admiral was going after the syringe, struggling to retrieve it from the floor.

“Leave it!” Joe commanded, torn between caring for Penny and going after the admiral. He satisfied himself by rushing the old man and shoving him off his feet. Jacobs collapsed on the floor, and Joe kicked the syringe out the door. He then lay Penny on her back across the table. “Penny, sweetheart, talk to me!” he begged.

The admiral groaned, unable to rise again. Joe’s heart stopped as he felt for a pulse and couldn’t immediately find it—but then there it was, throbbing gently beneath his fingers. With a whimper of relief, he bent toward her face to see if she was breathing. The sweet exhalation of her breath on his chin reassured him enough that he reeled away. He lifted the admiral off the floor by fisting the collar of his shirt and looked him straight in the eye. “She’d better not die, you sick son of a bitch! Is that ricin in the syringe?”

The old man set his jaw, refusing to answer. Joe shoved him into a chair. “Don’t move,” he warned, “or you’re dead.”

He was bending over Penny when three people rushed into the room: Penny’s U.S. Marshal, Davis, and Doctor Huxley. The U.S. Marshal looked from Penny to the syringe he’d apparently picked up in the hall. “There are still 4 cc’s in it,” he said, reaching for a paper towel to wrap it in. “Get a poison specialist in here, ASAP,” he said to Davis.

As the U.S. Marshal dealt with the admiral, slapping handcuffs on him and questioning him to no avail, Dr. Huxley turned to Penny. With his heart in his throat, Joe watched him check her vitals and try to revive her. To his knee-weakening relief, her lashes fluttered and her eyes slowly opened.

“Penny!” Joe cried, nudging the doctor aside. “How do you feel?” No question, the blue of her eyes was the most beautiful color in the world.

“Okay,” she replied after several blinks. Lifting her head, she watched the U.S. Marshal grow disgusted with the admiral’s refusal to talk. “I guess I fainted,” she explained, sending Joe an apologetic smile. “Sorry. It was such a shock.”

Joe’s knees jittered. He felt in danger of fainting himself. To keep that from happening, he leaned heavily on the table and put his arms around the woman he loved.

Jesus, to think that she’d almost been wrested from him as second time!

An hour later later, Penny still lay stretched out on the therapy table. Joe was hovering. The room, which had buzzed with doctors, security personnel, and lab techs, was finally quiet. The U.S. Marshal had hauled Admiral Jacobs off to FBI Headquarters, where Hannah and Valentino would question him further. The poison specialist who’d drawn Penny’s blood had stepped out to check the results of the tests being run.

“I’m going to be okay, Joe,” Penny insisted, wanting to chase that shadow of worry from his eyes.

“We’ll know soon,” he agreed, rubbing her forearms briskly, as if to keep her blood flowing.

“I can’t believe it was the admiral all along,” Penny marveled, shaking her head. “I thought he was such a sweet man.”

“I’m sure he was,” Joe answered. “War has a way of blurring the lines of right and wrong. He was a POW in ’Nam for years. Who’s to say what kind of effect that had on him? And then to lose his son. In any event, it’s over now.”

She let the finality of his statement sift through her, feeling, at last, a sense of closure. “Thank God,” she whispered, reviewing what had happened. “You saved my life,” she realized suddenly. “If you hadn’t rushed in here, he’d have injected me on his second try. Why were you even here?” she asked him.

“I just happened to drop by. I wanted to ask you something.”

Her heart performed a slow backflip. No, it couldn’t be what she was thinking . . .

“You know how Thanksgiving is coming up soon?” he added, building the suspense.

It was hard to breathe . . . “Yes.”

“Well, I went to buy tickets for a flight to Nevada and I thought, ‘Maybe Penny wants to come with me.’”

His words further fanned her hopes. “You want me to meet your parents?” she guessed.

“Well . . . yeah.” He turned faintly pink beneath his tan.

“Why?” she forced him to clarify.

“Well, ’cause . . . you’re my best friend. I wanted to show you Red Rock Canyon, so you could see it in person. Besides, you’ve been through a lot this fall. You deserve a vacation.”

She wanted to ask,
Is that the only reason?
But it wasn’t fair of her to put him on the spot. This was Joe, after all, a man who lived for life’s thrills and challenges. She loved him for who he was, not what she wanted him to be.

“I’m afraid I can’t,” she said, revealing her plans for the first time. “I won’t be here at Thanksgiving.”

“Where will you be?” He looked perplexed.

“Flying over the Atlantic Ocean. I’m going to take the place of medics on emergency medical flights,” she explained, watching his expression for any suggestion of heartbreak.

“Why?” he asked, merely looking bemused.

“So that medics with families can come home for the holidays,” she reasoned.

For a second, he did look bereft, but then the creases on his forehead disappeared. “Okay,” he said slowly, processing her news. “When will you be back?”

“The day after Christmas.”

His stoicism slipped a second time. “You won’t even be here for Christmas?” he asked incredulously.

“Most of the crews have families,” she pointed out, “whom they haven’t seen in months,” she added.

“What about Ophelia?”

“She’ll be fine. She has Vinny now. And she’s going to meet
his
family over Thanksgiving.”