The Search (14 page)

"Why there?"

"Why not? It's a pleasant enough place. You stayed there yourself for a while with Eve. I don't suppose you'd want to live there until Monty has recovered?"

"No way. I want to go home."

That's what he'd been afraid of. "Do you mind if we go to the house first before I have you taken home? I need to get this bullet out."

"The house instead of a hospital?"

"Hospitals ask questions."

"Doctors are bound by law to report gunshot wounds."

"But they can often be persuaded to delay or forget the report."

"Money?"

"Or influence. Or even a charitable donation. Doctors see so much suffering, sometimes they weigh legalities against a contribution that can help heal thousands."

"And risk their license."

"It's their choice, Sarah." He closed his eyes. "Now go away and let me and Monty sleep. I'm tired of defending myself."

"In a minute." He heard the sound of pouring water and opened his eyes to see Sarah setting down the carafe. She handed him two more Tylenol. "You can take these now. I don't want you restless and disturbing--"

"Monty," he finished for her. He swallowed the pills and closed his eyes again. "I'll try not to thrash around and bother your dog."

"Monty wouldn't care. It's his nature to want to comfort." She tucked the blanket around him with a gentleness that belied the briskness of her tone. "But I care for him. Go to sleep."

He was already half asleep as he heard her move away from him. It wasn't only Monty's nature to want to comfort. In spite of Sarah's resentment toward him, she found it impossible not to try to ease his pain and equally impossible to admit to that softness.

A truly remarkable woman . . .

"Bring him into the living room. It's already set up as an operating room." A plump, fortyish woman in a pin-striped suit was standing outside the house, waiting, when the ambulance doors opened and Logan was lifted to the ground. "How are you doing, John?"

"Okay."

"You don't look okay. You're pale as a tombstone. This was incredibly stupid of you." She walked beside his stretcher. "And you've caused me a great deal of trouble. Do you know how difficult it is to arrange this kind of thing with any kind of confidentiality?"

"Sorry." He looked back over his shoulder at Sarah. "This is my assistant, Margaret Wilson. Ask her for anything you need."

"I'll be fine. Stop worrying about me."

To her surprise, he reached out his hand to her. She took a step closer to the stretcher and enfolded his hand in hers.

His grasp tightened as he looked up at her. "Stay," he whispered. "Stay, Sarah."

"I'm not going anywhere right away."

"I'll take that as a promise." He glanced at his assistant. "Take care of her, Margaret. She needs to--"

"Shut up," Margaret said. "I'll take care of everything. You just let Dr. Dowden take care of this stupidity you've gotten yourself into before you lose that leg."

He released Sarah's hand. "Yes, ma'am."

Margaret turned back to Sarah as Logan was whisked into the living room. "They're going to operate at once. How bad is he?"

"The bullet didn't shatter the bone, but it tore through some muscle. Infection is always the problem. He'd be better off in a hospital."

Margaret shook her head. "He won't do it. Where's your dog? I heard he was shot too."

"Still in the ambulance. He's okay. Just a little sore. He hasn't wanted to leave Logan since he was hurt, so we rode here with him. Bassett is being driven here by the pilot and the security guard you arranged to meet the plane." She turned, lifted Monty out of the ambulance, and carried him into the house. "We'll stay until the operation is over."

Margaret lifted her brows. "Because Monty's worried?"

"I'm not so hard that I can't feel compassion for someone in pain. Even Logan." She carried Monty through to the kitchen. "Will you get down a bowl? I need to give Monty water."

"Sit down. I'll do it." Margaret went to a cabinet, got a bowl, and filled it with water.

Sarah took the bowl and pushed the water toward Monty. When he started to drink, she straightened and asked, "Is this Dowden a good doctor?"

Margaret nodded. "You don't know me or I'd be insulted that you'd think I'd put John in some quack's hands." She looked down at Monty. "How about him? Does he need a vet?"

Sarah shook her head. "I'm used to taking care of him unless it's something serious. He's fine. He could walk, but that shoulder is sore. I want him to rest it. He'll be back to normal in a day or so."

"So you're lugging him around like a baby." Margaret grinned. "A seventy-pound baby at that."

"No problem. I'm strong. In my job I have to be."

"I know. I did the research on you." She sat down across from Sarah. "You have a perfect right to be pissed at me, but I'm still going to tell you that I admire what you and Monty have done."

"Why should I be angry with you? It's Logan who pulls the strings."

"That's very fair." Margaret's gaze searched her face. "But you're not as angry with John as I thought you'd be. Why not?"

Because he'd kept his word. Because though she disapproved of his methods, she couldn't fault his motives. Because she'd grown to know him in that jungle, his strength and his determination, even a little of his past. It was difficult hating anyone but a total ass once you understood them.

"It's over." She rose to her feet. "It's a waste of energy being angry. Will you keep an eye on Monty? I want to be at the door to meet Bassett. This is pretty difficult for him. He thought he was going home."

"Sure." Margaret reached down and patted Monty. "I love dogs and he's a sweetheart."

Bassett arrived at the front door five minutes later.

He smiled with relief as soon as he saw Sarah walking toward him. "Am I glad to see a friendly face. When I went through those electric gates, I felt as if I was at Alcatraz."

"So did I the first time I came here. And then there were only two security guards, not the four I saw when I drove through the gates."

"You've been here before?"

"Several months ago."

He nodded. "I should have known you and Logan were old friends. The intimacy is pretty obvious."

Intimacy? A ripple of shock went through her. "Why do you say that?"

"As I said, it's fairly obvious watching you together. You saved his life, and you kept an eagle eye on him all during the trip, though I could see you were trying to be offhand about it. Logan's not a man who likes being coddled, is he?"

"I wouldn't know. I don't coddle."

He held up his hands. "Sorry. Did I make a mistake?"

"Yes. Logan and I aren't old friends. I didn't save his life. I just gave him a boost into that helicopter so we could take off. And I did a job for a friend of his and then this one for him. That's the extent of our 'intimacy.' " She turned and moved toward the stairs. "You're probably tired. I'll show you to a room."

"You're upset. I didn't mean--"

"I'm not upset." It was true. She wasn't upset with Bassett. It wasn't his fault he'd read the situation wrong. That she had felt concerned for Logan was entirely natural. She would have felt the same for anyone who was hurt and helpless. By instinct and training she was a person who tried to save.

If it was entirely natural, then why was she justifying her reaction?

Because at that moment she was tired and vulnerable. No other reason. She'd be better after a little rest.

"This is a nice room. It overlooks the garden." She threw open the door at the top of the stairs. "The telephone is on the bedside table. I assume Logan is letting you at least call your wife."

"Sure. Though he asked me not to tell her I'd left Santo Camaro."

"Asked?"

"Well, strongly suggested." He glanced at Sarah. "But don't get me wrong. I came here voluntarily. Logan offered to fix up a lab for me here so I can get on with my work."

He might have thought the choice was voluntary, but what Logan wanted, Logan generally got. "I thought you wanted to go home."

"He pointed out that I didn't want to compromise the safety of my family. He's put a guard on them, but I'd just be a threat to them right now." He entered the room and looked around. "Private bath. Nice. A lot better than the living quarters at Santo Camaro. Castleton did his best, but he concentrated more on lab equipment than on little luxuries. The damn hot-water heater had to be replaced four times in the time I was there."

"Then why did you stay?"

"It was my dream," he said simply. "You don't give up a dream because you have to take cold showers."

"What kind of dream?"

He made a face. "I didn't mean to pique your curiosity. I'm sorry, you've been very kind, but I can't talk about my work. It's in my contract."

"And was it in your contract to risk being killed?"

"No, but we all knew there might be repercussions. It went with the territory."

"What do you--" Why was she asking questions when he'd already told her he couldn't discuss it? She wasn't interested anyway. It was time she distanced herself from Logan and everyone around him. "Margaret Wilson is in the kitchen downstairs and I'd bet she's had it fully stocked. Do you know her?"

"No, I worked through Castleton, but I've heard of her. Tough, efficient, and bossy as hell." He grinned. "She's something of a legend in Logan's empire. But you can't expect anything else. He's a legend himself."

"Well, that legend is downstairs having a bullet dug out of his leg. When they're through, maybe they should look you over."

"I'm fine. All I need is to talk to my wife and son."

"Then I'll leave you to it."

"Thanks." He was already heading for the phone as she closed the door.

She returned to the kitchen, where Margaret updated her on Logan. "The doctor just stuck his head in. The operation's over and John's doing fine. He's under sedation, but he should be waking up in a few hours."

Relief surged through her. She had known Logan's injury wasn't critical, but operations were always serious. "Good." She sank down in the chair. "No signs of infection?"

"A little. They're giving him megadoses of antibiotics to combat it. The doctor didn't like the fact that the bullet stayed in him all those hours."

"It was safer to bring him back to the States."

"I'm not saying it wasn't the right thing to do. There are always pros and cons." Margaret stood up. "How about some lunch? I've got a lot of canned stuff. Soup? Stew?"

Sarah shook her head. "It's time for Monty and me to go home. Will you arrange for someone to drive me back to my ranch?"

"Now?" Margaret frowned. "What's your hurry?"

"I want to go home."

"You told him you'd stay."

Stay, Sarah.

She had agreed because Logan's moment of vulnerability and need had caught her off guard. But he was neither vulnerable nor in need. He was surrounded by people who would take care of him and protect him. He certainly didn't need her. "I did stay. He's out of danger now."