FlakJacket (15 page)

Madison was at the formal dinner to welcome her when she felt extreme cold settle into her—a sense of coming doom. She reached inside to understand her deepening fear. A cable had just been given to the ambassador, detailing a shooting abroad. The Minister of Agriculture had been accosted in America, and only the protective detail he had with him had saved his life. One man had been badly injured, but the Minister was all right.

Madison sat up, the color receding from her face, her stomach knotting. And the vision hit her, Jordan’s body on the ground bleeding profusely from wounds in his back and side. She stood and cried out, and then the world around her dissolved as she fainted scattering the dinner guests near her. The news of Jordan’s injuries flashed over Tim’s phone screen. He had managed to get a seat at the Jordanian dinner welcoming Madison; he looked up to see her swoon and fall, rushing to his feet and getting to her quickly. He showed his ID to those who were around her, and when they saw he worked for Lassiter Enterprises, they let him come to her.

“Get a doctor.” He felt over her body, but her color was ghastly and her heart beat rapid. It was only seconds until a doctor was there, taking her pulse and trying to bring her around. Tim orchestrated her care as a team of medics took her to a side receiving room so she could be examined.

“Jordan.” Her voice screamed out, but she wasn’t really awake, and she seemed in agony. Did she already know about the shooting, and if so, how? She was moved quickly to an upstairs bedroom, and the medical staff continued to work on her, monitoring the child now with a fetal monitor. Her eyes opened seeing Jordan’s nearly lifeless body on a table in a medical facility. “He needs to hear my voice. Please.” Only Tim seemed to understand her plea.

“I’ll get the call through,” he said, and he squeezed her hand. “I promise, Madison.” Tim messaged one of the men who was with Jordan and asked for him to get the phone to Jordan’s ear if at all possible; then he called that phone’s number, opening the line between them.

Out of the operating room and in the hospital ICU, Jordan lay attached to machines; his blood pressure numbers and his blood count were still falling, his breathing was shallow. The doctors had worked tirelessly to stop the bleeding and deal with the shock, but he had lost a great deal of blood before the hospital personnel managed to arrive, and it looked like it might be a losing battle. The medical staff with the patient was aghast when one of Jordan’s men made the request for the phone to be placed in his room. It was unorthodox, but there was nothing else to be done for him medically. The lead doctor allowed the iPhone to be decontaminated and covered in a plastic and to be placed beside him. A soft voice came over it; it was on speakerphone.

“Jordan.”  Her soft voice hung in the room. “You need to fight for me and for our son. You cannot leave me here to cope alone.” There was the soft sound of crying. “I love you. I’m paying your fee, so get your damned ass out of that bed and get back to work protecting me.” Now there were actual sobs. “Jordan. I mean it.” The phone was quiet, but the falling pressure numbers suddenly slowed down and leveled out, and Jordan’s breathing became less labored.

“Tell her to keep talking,” the physician shouted as he watched the numbers and examined the wounds to check on bleeding. Tim relayed the information to Madison as the hospital personnel stood around whispering to each other, watching the drama play out before them.

Her weak voice was back on the phone. “I hope you’re not giving these doctors a bad time.” Her voice rose in anger. “And why in the hell weren’t you wearing your bullet proof vest?” A hitch in her breathing stopped her words, but then she continued. “Your son needs you, Jordan. Listen to the sound of my voice; reach out to me; my hands are touching you, healing you; and you will sleep now. I’ll be on a flight just as soon as I can. Please, darling, let your body relax and give your soul to me to keep until I can hand it back to you.” The doctors were all looking at each other as everything about the patient stabilized, blood pressure actually rising, color better and breathing easier. The patient’s body relaxed, and he fell into a deep sleep. They had never seen anything like it. It could have been their medical intervention, but there was more to it, and each one knew it. Her words had done it.
She was a witch
.

Tim swallowed hard and fought tears as he told Madison, “He’s stable.”

N
o one on the medical staff spoke of what had happened in the ICU. How would one explain it? Most of the attending staff knew the name of the patient and that he was irrevocably joined to Madison Kelly; the papers were full of their love story. The waiting room was filled with State Department personnel and police, but no one could even begin to explain what had happened medically in that room. Jordan’s monitoring continued, and the doctor asked to see Tim with a request. “Can you keep that line open and keep her talking to him for the next half hour or so?

Tim saw to it that Jordan could hear her soft voice as she told him of her trip and of her fainting at the dinner meeting. Her lyrical voice went up and down; as it did, the nurses noted that Jordan relaxed even further into a healing sleep. The wounds had stopped bleeding, and his pressure reached an acceptable level. The doctor declared him out of danger for the time being, but he asked Tim to make sure that Madison would be available at this number should he need her.

In the Senate conference room, Neville had to contain his anger. The man should have been dead. He’d been shot twice at close range for God’s sake. He did not believe in the powers thing—he didn’t. But he couldn’t get it out of his head that she had done something to intervene.

Madison pushed to be allowed up. Her heartbeat had steadied, as had that of the child’s. She was sipping on juice and nibbling on crackers. She wanted to leave immediately for the States, and arrangements were being made for just that. Tim’s phone lay in her hand, a lifeline to Jordan. She asked to speak with the doctor who went over his injuries carefully with her. The doctor wanted to ask, but his nerve failed him. The healing powers thing was true; no one could convince him otherwise. She said she would thank him personally when she arrived.

Tim made all the arrangements for her to go, accompanying her as she was moved from the Jordanian embassy in England to the airport. A private plane picked her up as soon as she arrived there provided by the State Department, and she was encouraged to rest as the plane taxied down the runway. She kept reaching out in her mind to find Jordan, and she sensed he was waiting for her. She finally put her head down after asking Tim to wake her if she was needed; she slept.

It had been a remarkable day.

Representatives of the State Department who wanted to talk with her met them at the Reagan National Airport. She refused to speak with them at that moment, asking for time to see to Jordan. The Jordanian embassy personnel also met her, offering her accommodations at the embassy for the night. They were filled with praise for Jordan’s quick actions in saving the minister. She declined with a smile, asking to be taken to the hospital as quickly as possible. Her child continued to move inside her as if knowing he was going to his father.

Cameras flashed over and over almost blinding her, until Tim requested that the press back off as he escorted her to a waiting car. As she entered the hospital, she asked to see the attending physician for Jordan, needing to hear that things were progressing; but she felt him with her.

The halls filled with visitors and hospital personnel who had heard the amazing story; all wanted a glance at her. A mother holding a very sick child stood to one side, murmuring to her little one, and Madison was compelled to go to touch the little girl softly, moving her hands over the her forehead and then down her body. “She will get better,” she said to the mother, and she kissed the little one. She continued down the hall to the elevator that would take her to Jordan, touching patients as she went.

The hallway outside ICU was filled with more people, and Tim could feel her weakening at the intrusion on her private world. He cleared the way for her to enter the ICU room where Jordan lay, and he pushed open the door for her. The shock on her face was evident when she saw his body surrounded by machines and tubes. “Oh my dear Jordan. What a mess you are,” she said softly as the door closed behind her. She stood beside his bed and took his hand in hers, placing it on her rounded stomach; his son fluttered madly inside her as they all connected. She leaned in and her lips met his in a gentle kiss as she pushed his hair from his face.

The doctor entered moments later to see her. Her quiet beauty struck him as she smiled and held out her hand. “I’m Madison Kelly. I owe you a debt of gratitude, doctor. Thank you.”

“He’s not out of the woods yet, but we are now very hopeful he will make a full and complete recovery. He was shot in the back and in the side, the bullets passing through his body and exiting. There were no major organs hit nor was his spine impacted. He is one very lucky guy. The side wound is a flesh wound only. We’re concerned about his breathing, blood loss and posttraumatic infection.” The doctor watched as her hands lay on the bandages on his side, reaching around to those on his back as well as those on his chest. She held her hands on them, her eyes closed, as she seemed to draw the wounds into herself. The machines around Jordan indicated that his breathing became even stronger, and his blood pressure rose to a good level. She removed her hands and turned once again to the doctor.

“When will he be awake?”

“We don’t know for sure. He seems to be in a deep sleep right now, but I would guess he should be with us in the next six or seven hours, depending on the shock.”

Madison nodded. Tim pulled up a chair for her, and she sat beside Jordan, holding his hand and talking to him. “You’ve dragged me home, just as you wanted. You had better join me soon. I’m willing to listen, and you owe me an explanation.” The doctor had no idea what she was talking about.

“Do you want me to notify your gynecologist that you are here?” the doctor asked.

“I’m sure everybody in the world knows I am here, doctor. I’d just like some time with him if that can be arranged.”

“Would you like something to eat?”

“My close protection will get it for me, but thank you for offering. Your people are very busy. I will be forever in your debt.”

“There are a number of people out here asking to speak with you,” he added.

“Not now, doctor.” He nodded and left; the energy level in the room had been intense now that he was in the hall. He ran his fingers through his hair. The woman was something else; he told everyone she would be unavailable for some time.

It was late evening before Jordan opened his eyes, taking her in; her red hair spilled over his sheets as she slept, his hand held in hers. He moved his other hand with needles and tubes to touch her softly, pushing her curls from her face. She was here; he had been in a dreamland of sorts, thinking he could hear her talking to him and scolding him. He noted his hospital setting; what in the hell had happened? The last thing he remembered was the man in the crowd and the gun, and then the searing pain of bullets. Everything beyond that was in a haze, like it was happening to someone else. He had fallen, and it had all disappeared. Now she was here. The door pushed open slowly allowing Tim to enter. He saw that Jordan was awake, and Jordan motioned him closer.

“Get her doctor. I want her checked out,” he whispered in some pain. Tim nodded and exited as Jordan lay back and just watched her even breathing. Within ten minutes, Dr. Lambert pushed through his door, viewing the scene before her with a smile. Jordan’s hand was wound in Madison’s red locks, soothing her softly, rubbing her neck. She slowly came awake.

“Hey beautiful. Your doctor is here.” Her sleepy eyes came up to meet his blue ones, and she smiled; then tears began to slide down her face. Dr. Lambert helped her to sit up from her awkward sleeping position, and she put her arms around Madison giving her time to compose herself.

––––––––

“I
think you better kiss this lout before I take you for a quick exam. Let’s make sure this baby is doing all he should be doing. I want some food in you, but you can eat with Jordan if you’d like.” Madison nodded and turned to Jordan for her kiss. He kissed her softly, his tongue moving into her mouth to meet with hers, the kiss reminding her that he was very much alive and getting better. The connection was intense.

“Go.”
Witch.
“I’ll give you ten minutes or so.” The words were so Jordan—giving her minutes to do as he asked. She sobbed all over him again as he caught her to him with his one good arm and hugged her, wincing with discomfort from his wounds. “I’m fine.”

Dr. Lambert said, “We’ll be right back,” and she took Madison out of the room and into a side one to complete her examination.

Tim cleared his throat. “Can I get you anything else, boss?”

“A whiskey would be nice.” Tim shook his head. “You deserve a raise; I’ll see you get it, and thank you for your diligence. She’s OK?”

“Yes, sir. I believe she is now.”

“I need to know exactly what happened. You have ten minutes to fill me in.”

Tim smiled. “I’m not sure ten minutes will do it, Sir. But, I’ll try.”

The two men talked until the door opened and Madison returned, a smile on her face. “I’m fine, Jordan, and so is our son, so you can stand down.” He glanced at Dr. Lambert for confirmation. She nodded.

He threw his best smile at Madison. “Well, thank God you do as you’re told some times. You’re improving in the obedience arena.”

That brought a sparkle of anger to her eyes. “Better watch it, Jordan. You’re not at full strength.” He smirked at her, but she noted the pain etching his face. She walked to him, her hands moving softly over his wounds and then touching his face. Warmth filled his body. She put her hands around his neck, rubbing slowly, touching his pulse point often. Her eyes were on his. She felt him relax underneath her. “Rest now. I promise I will be here.” He lifted his eyebrows in a look of disbelief. “Jordan, I promise.” He nodded, and his eyes closed, the pain receding even though he hadn’t taken his pain medication.