Relentless (12 page)

After pondering several opening lines, she went with her default setting and said it straight out. “I've been wondering if you remember anything from... that night. When you were hit.”

His gaze was steady on hers. “The last thing I remember was going into the back room of the hut to get you.”

Her stomach knotted. Damn. That
would
have to be the last memory he had of her. She'd been crouched on the dirt floor like an animal in front of Mike, ready to attack whoever came through the door. It made her skin crawl with shame to think of Rhys seeing her like that, filthy and primitive, out of control. Reduced to mindless terror and survival instinct. “Nothing after that?”

“No. The next memory I have is seeing Ben next to my bed at Walter Reed.”

Nev lowered her gaze to hide the guilt she was afraid he'd see in her eyes at the mention of the hospital.

“What about you?”

Her head came up. “What do you mean?”

“You must have memories of that day.”

Of course she did. “Some.”

He wouldn't let it go. “Did you get help once you got home?”

She glanced away again, embarrassed to admit she'd sought professional help even though she knew she'd needed it. At the time, she'd told herself it was the most practical thing to do. Her job as a surgeon demanded she regain control of her emotions and master her fears. In the end, she'd jumped back into work as a distraction and to prove to herself she could do it.

She nodded. “I'm handling everything fine.” For the most part. The rest, she'd overcome in time. She wouldn't accept anything less. “The first couple of surgeries were tough. I almost couldn't make the first incision.” But she'd forced herself to, no matter how hard her heart pounded or how nauseous she became at the thought of slicing a blade into someone's flesh. Because she was a surgeon, dammit, and she'd fought long and hard to attain that status. No one, not even murderous terrorists, would take that away from her.

She cleared her throat. “I have a thing about knives now,” she admitted. Didn't matter what kind. They all made her guts twist with fear because of the horrific memories associated with them.

“I worried about that.”

Nev stared at him. Rhys, the remote, unflappable loner had
worried
? About
her
? “I'm fine.” Her voice sounded very small over the heavy thudding of her heart. Of their own volition, her eyes strayed up to the right side of his head and the pink scars hidden beneath his closely-shorn hair. Just looking at them made her throat close up.

Like they'd been held back by a dam that had just failed, the words burst out. “I can't believe you lived,” she whispered, near tears at the thought of how close he'd come to death.

Rhys reached over and took her hand. “Because of you.”

She shook her head and looked deep into his eyes. “No. I don't know how you survived, but... It wasn't because of me.”

“Yes it was.”

She blew out a breath and swallowed the lump in her throat. God, she wanted to touch him so badly, just run her fingers over the side of his head to assure herself that he was healed. A barrage of memories hit her, filling her mind. “You held my hand during the chopper ride to the rally point.” She'd been on a stretcher on the helo's floor and he'd stayed crouched next to her the whole time.

He smiled. “I'm glad.”

“Then Sam called on the radio and you ran down to get the truck. We saw the mine explode.” She pulled in a deep breath. “You were still conscious when I got to you.”

“Was I?”

“You were looking right at me.” He'd stared right into her eyes with a blank expression that chilled her to think about. Without warning, her body started trembling, though she tried to mask it. “You said, ‘I'm hit.’ “

Hold on, Nev. Take a breath and calm down.

But the words refused to stay inside her. “The right side of your skull was wide open. There was no way you should have been functional, but you were talking to me.” She could still smell the stench of burning flesh whenever she thought about it. And that wasn't even the worst part. “We got you intubated on the chopper to Kabul and you held on until we got to the hospital, but then you... You coded on the table in the OR. Did you know that?”

She'd almost lost it when he'd flatlined. Bringing the defibrillator paddles down on his bare, blood-stained chest and then watching his whole body arc up off the table with the force of the electric current had put her in tears. “We had to shock you twice to get your heart re-started.” And all the while the blood had streamed out of his head wound, as fast as they could infuse him.

“Yeah. Ben told me.” He stroked his thumb over her knuckles in silent comfort. “I'm sorry you had to see that.”

Since he'd been the one going
through
that, his attempt to soothe her broke her heart. She was a trauma surgeon. She'd dealt with life and death situations dozens of times, but never with someone who mattered to her and her cousin, the only family she had. Never with someone who'd rescued her, and whose twin brother was in the next room giving units of his own blood for an emergency transfusion.

Her chest tightened painfully. Rhys had been unconscious the whole time so he couldn't have known how bad his injuries really were, but she would never forget those first agonizing, critical hours. “I don't know how you held on, I really don't. It was so damn close... ” She pinched the bridge of her nose.
Take a breath, Nev
. She did. But then the air caught in her lungs and wouldn't come out again. Her ribs jerked with the sob she fought to hold back. In a panic to get control of her emotions, she pulled her hand away and started to push up from the couch.

Rhys stopped her by snatching her wrist. “Hey.”

She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Let go.” She just needed some space, a few minutes to compose herself, alone.

He wouldn't release her.

“I have to... ” She sucked in a sharp breath. “To get myself together.”

“No need.” Instead, he tugged her back down and pulled her straight into his arms.

Worse. Much worse
. She resisted, her throat aching with unshed tears. “Rhys, no... I can't... ”

“Shhh.” He tucked her head under his chin and settled her against his wide chest so she could feel his heart beating steadily under hers, and stroked his hands over her back.

She shuddered in his arms and laid her palms against the thick pads of his pecs, assaulted by the sensations of being pressed close against him. Warmth and hard muscles. The faint spice of his cologne mixed with the soapy scent of his skin, his body heat seeping into her. His touch on her back was gentle enough to make tears well in her eyes. She let out a hiccup.

“Shhh, little one,” he crooned, his low voice caressing her ears. “I'm fine. Everything's okay now.”

Little one. Nobody had ever called her that, and if anyone else had, she'd have blasted them. But somehow from Rhys she didn't mind. Compared to him, she
was
little. He was so big he made her feel delicate and feminine. She nodded at his words, her cheek brushing over his left pec, right over the steady throb of his heart. She struggled for control. He must think she was such a loser, crying all over him at the mention of that day. It brought a watery laugh out of her.

Hands stilling, he angled his head toward hers. “What?”

“Nothing.” She wiped her eyes. “I was just thinking of all the money I've spent on therapy, and that one hug from you was better than all of it combined.”

Helping her sit back, he gave her an assessing look. “You always so direct?”

She blushed. “Blunt, you mean. And yes, I am. It's one of my biggest flaws.”

“Attractions,” he corrected. “I've never met anyone like you.”

“Trust me, it's not always a good trait. It's just that I'm a terrible liar.”

He lounged back against the cushions, still holding her gaze. He had amazing eye contact skills, better than any man she'd ever met. But his next words sent a chill of foreboding through her.

“That's good, because there's something I've wanted to ask you, and I'm hoping you'll tell me the truth.”

She stilled. This didn't sound good. “Okay. What is it?”

“You came to see me in the hospital, didn't you?”

The side table lamp gave off enough light for Rhys to see his question steal the blood from her face. He was sorry to make her uncomfortable, but he needed to know why she'd hidden it, and counted on her innate integrity to tell him the truth.

Nev folded her arms across her middle in a classic defensive posture. “What do you mean?”

He almost laughed. She really was a terrible liar. “At Walter Reed. You snuck into my room.”

Her sharp inhalation echoed in the stillness. “Who told you?”

“No one. I read the visitors log in my file the day I was released.”

“God.” She dropped her gaze to the floor and started pacing aimlessly. He waited for her to continue, and in a moment she stopped and faced him again. If he wasn't mistaken, she jutted her chin out, almost in defiance. “I only came to check on your progress— ”

“You came every day I was in the coma.”

She nodded stiffly. “Yes.”

“After hours, so no one else would see you.” She didn't deny it. “And then the day I woke up, you stopped coming. Why?”

“I knew you'd be okay then.”

Her answer didn't ease the frustration eating at him. “I don't buy it. Why?”

Her deep sigh filled the air. “Because I realized how pathetic and clingy it looked, that's why.”

He frowned. Why would she—

“I didn't want to make it any harder on Ben or your parents, so I made sure I came in when they went down to the cafeteria for dinner every night. I'd check in with the staff about your progress, stay in your room for fifteen minutes, then leave before Ben came back for the night.”

He ruthlessly pulled all that apart in his mind. “So you stopped coming in once I was awake because you didn't want me to know you'd been there?”

The pink flush still rode high across her cheekbones. “Visiting you under those circumstances was highly unprofessional of me. I was embarrassed about it.”

Yet she'd done it anyway. More than her actions, her reasoning stunned him. She'd gone through her grueling debriefing at Langley, and then stuck around just so she could sneak fifteen minutes a night to sit with him. Didn't that say she had strong feelings for him? He pushed, needing answers. “When you came to see me, what did you do?”

Her gaze strayed to an ocean scene print hanging on the wall beside her. She swallowed. “I changed your bandages, then held your hand and talked to you.”

His heart squeezed. He could picture her there, perched next to his hospital bed, cradling his hand in her magical ones and speaking words of encouragement in her sultry voice. “What did you say?”

“I thanked you for rescuing me, and told you to hang on. That you had people who loved you and needed you to wake up.” She shrugged like it didn't matter. “Things like that. I know it was dishonest of me to sneak in, but I wanted to see you and... Yeah, I'm sorry. I was being selfish, looking for closure that way.”

Closure?

“You have every right to be angry.”

“Do I look angry?” he asked, forcing himself to stay where he was and not march over to take her in his arms again.

“You must think I'm a stalker now.”

“I don't think that at all.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Don't you?”

“No.” Rhys leaned forward and laid his forearms on his knees, edging closer without crowding her too much. He needed her to understand. “Did it ever occur to you that you might be the reason I came out of the coma? That I might have heard you?”

Swallowing, she turned her head and met his eyes. “That's not... You came out because they decreased your sedative levels, and because your brain had healed enough to allow you to resurface.”

Bullshit. “You're a doctor, so you ought to know better than that.”

“If you came back because of anybody, it's Ben.” Her gaze dropped once more. “Well. Now you know what I did, and I apologize for any invasion of privacy.”

“Dammit,” he muttered, coming off the couch. Her eyes widened and she backed up a step, but he kept going. “You're not listening to me— I don't want an apology.” Reaching out, he took hold of her upper arms and pulled her until her breasts touched his chest.

Her eyes were huge as she gazed up at him. “What— what do you want?”

More than he'd ever imagined wanting. He had no clue what to do with his feelings for her, but all he knew was they were getting stronger and weren't going away. This was a whole new world of unknowns. “You had every reason in the world to go back to New York and put everything behind you, but you stayed. Not even to be with Sam, but for
me.
” His eyes bored into hers, refusing to let her shrink away from the truth. “Tell me why you did it.”

“I... ” She licked her lips, staring up into his eyes.

“Because you operated on me? You felt responsible for me? What?”

“A-all those things,” she whispered, then hesitated and bit her lip.

“So that's it?” He was ready to explode.

“You know it's not.”

Yeah, but he wanted her to say it out loud so he knew he had it right. “Tell me.”

She broke eye contact and stared at the base of his throat. “Because of my personal... attachment to you.”

The whispered admission knocked the breath out of his lungs. “Nev. Look at me.”

She hesitated, but then raised her head. Her eyes were wide and her heart thudded hard against his chest. Was she actually afraid he'd reject her or something? That he'd laugh at her?

He shouldn't touch her at all, but they were way past that now, and he couldn't keep pretending he didn't need this as much as she seemed to. It didn't matter that everything between them had been forged out of dramatic and emotionally charged circumstances that held no basis for a relationship. It didn't even matter that he wasn't good enough for her, or that he'd never been in a serious relationship before. All he knew was she was standing in front of him with her heart in her big blue eyes and he'd die if he didn't kiss her.