Chapter Seventeen

The sofa wasn’t large enough for the mighty chaperone spread across its awkward cushions. Lizzy sat down wearily on an armrest and watched John sleep.

When they’d first arrived, he’d offered his help. As a medic, he was more than qualified, but Garrison refused the offer. John didn’t argue, instead situating himself in the front room.

At three in the darn morning, they were finally done. It looked like the family had viral stomach flu—a norovirus—and after a round of IVs and anti-nausea meds, they all slept like babes.

All that time, John waited patiently, the diligent soldier always guarding her back. Why her? She didn’t deserve his loyalty, still kicking him in the nuts when she should be thanking him.

She’d worried that if John ever found out about her past with Ivan, he’d treat her as carefully as her family did. But nope. He never tiptoed around her. John attacked life like a sledgehammer. He never stopped pushing her buttons and encouraging her to find direction. Lizzy needed a nudge. Hell, she needed to be shoved off the damn cliff.

Like John, all his teammates were weaponized warriors and she was getting used to having them around. If John was a sledgehammer, Max was the knife, slicing through enemy falsehoods, revealing the truth beneath. Slater’s honest humor was like a bullet to the brain. Donnie used his economic hands to track and defend.

When the three fierce men gathered earlier for dinner in her apartment, she’d been struck by the imposing energy dominating her usually peaceful space. Exposure to perpetual violence sharpened them into jaded weapons. The intimidation factor had eventually worn off as the evening wore on.

Donnie had watched as she’d floundered around the kitchen in organized chaos. He’d calmly stepped up to load the dishwasher as she worked. The steady man held her attention with thoughtful conversation and shadowed eyes. Slater hid his sooty darkness under humor. She wore the same cheerful mask as the snarky operator—deflect the masses, and they won’t get too close.

Except it hadn’t worked. The savage sleeping beauty before her had slid beneath all her defenses. She sighed and ran the back of her hand along John’s stubbled jaw.

“Thanks for your help,” Garrison said from behind.

She turned to face the handsome doctor who—on paper—should be her type. Nonthreatening, intellectually charming, a tree hugger like her. But her heart didn’t pound when he walked into a room, or flutter when he brushed past, or beat sluggishly when he looked into her eyes. That control belonged to John, and the thought terrified her.

“No problem.” She stood. “Next time I won’t be available. I love and care about this place and its people, but I’m a volunteer. I’ll help out as much as possible, but I also have a full-time job and a personal life, and putting myself at risk is not worth it.” The couch groaned behind her as John swung to his feet.

“Your brawny boyfriend fills your head with sinister scenarios.”

“His name is John, and he cares about my welfare.”

Garrison regarded her with thoughtful eyes. “Have a good night, Miss Steyn. I’ll see you around.”

Lizzy rolled her eyes at his disappearing and disapproving back. A huge hand engulfed hers, and Lizzy’s heart did a little skip. With a couple of days left before her next flight and John’s next mission, that Kama Sutra book needed to be put to good use. She turned to the sleepy giant. “Hey, Tank, time to go home. Let’s hit the dusty road and get some shut-eye.”

***

They made love once, then fell back asleep until lunch, before flipping through cooking shows. John enjoyed a beer as they watched the sun inch below the horizon, and that was when the first round of her queasiness hit.

It was bad, so mortifyingly bad. The romance was out the window as he held her hair back over the toilet, while running a soothing hand along her back.

“I’m not going anywhere. My IFAK kit is back at base. Where’re your supplies? Do you have a thermometer? You’re burning up.”

“Of course, I have a thermometer. Oh, God. Round two.” She threw up until there was nothing left. “Make a bed for me, next to the loo. I’ll sleep here forever. Crikey fish paste, I feel rough. Oh, gosh. I can’t think about fish. That’s not good.” She dry-heaved again into the toilet.

John wiped an icy towel over her brow. “Lizbug, let me carry you to bed.”

“I don’t want to think about moving. Just leave me here to die.”

Ignoring her shivering protest, he gently cradled her fevered body and laid her on the soft mattress. Racing to the kitchen, he brought back a plastic bucket and stood it next to the bed.

Her mind drifted, as roiling nausea swept over her in waves. John took her temperature.

“Shit, babes, it’s already 104. I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“No, we’ll wait for hours at the ER. Call Garrison. I may need a shot to stop the vomiting—if it’s the same virus that family had.”

“It’s obviously the same thing.”

Lizzy groaned and reached for the bucket.

***

Johnny dumped more ice cubes in the bowl and topped it up with water. Stripping her down to a tank top and underwear, he wiped down her flushed skin with the cool cloth.

“That feels good.” She sighed as tremors racked her small frame. This was an aggressive strain, suddenly slamming into her like a freight train. Her current condition worried him. Putting aside his pride, Johnny picked up her phone. Bankes could get here sooner than a team member with Johnny’s kit—besides, his bag only carried Zofran for vomiting.

“What’s your passcode?”

“Why w-would you need that?” Her teeth chattered.

“I need Garrison’s number.”

“I j-just changed the password.” Lizzy reluctantly glanced his way. “Oh, shoot. Fine. It’s Jay Jay.”

He grinned. “Cute, babes.”

Johnny dialed the pompous dick’s number as she retched. After the third ring, he answered.

“Lizzy’s ill.” Johnny described the symptoms.

“It could be something she ate.”

“No asshole, it’s the same thing those patients had.”

“Talk to me in a civilized manner. And I can’t make assumptions without seeing her first.”

“Then get here—”

“I’m helping out at a colleague’s clinic in the city tonight. I’ll see what I can do.”

Johnny paced the room. “Don’t fucking bother. I’ll take her to the ER.”

“No, I’ll be there, just give me fifteen.”

Johnny hung up and, as an afterthought, he sent the doctor’s number to his phone.

Twenty-one minutes later, there was a knock at the door. He let Dr. Highfaluting in and led him to Lizzy. The doctor paused in the doorway and gave Johnny’s Glock on the bedside table a disapproving glare before walking to the bed.

“Her temp is still sitting at 104. She’s delirious as all hell.”

Bankes sat down and took her vitals. “Yeah. That’s a little high. I’ll give her a cocktail for nausea and fever. All we can do is manage the symptoms.”

“If this is a stomach flu then why doesn’t she have any diarrhea? That doesn’t make sense.”

“There are many strains, but I’ll draw blood and send it for testing.”

Bankes spoke soothingly to her as he injected the meds. Lizzy grabbed his wrist and squeezed. Johnny watched the interaction from a distance, feeling like a clumsy voyeur, watching the gentle exchange between the refined doctor and his delicate patient.

Compared to Bankes, what kind of life did Johnny have to offer her? A job where he’d be gone most of the time? A lonely existence on a remote farm in Wyoming? His bright Lizzy needed warmth, social interaction and family. Johnny didn’t know much about family.

His childhood was a dirty secret that not even his MIT2 brothers knew about. He envisioned Lizzy’s future with Dr. Garrison Bankes. Traveling across the globe, setting up clinics together, spending time in his fancy British home. Judging from his accent, he came from a posh estate.

Johnny folded his arms. “Where are you from?”

Bankes looked down his noble nose. “You mean, where is my home? England.”

“Whereabouts?”

“I have a home in Weybridge.”

“Where did you study medicine?”

“Oxford University.”

And that about summed it up. Bankes stroked her brow once before standing. “I need to be in surgery within the hour, and I’ll be unreachable for the next six hours. The cocktail will make her sleep.”

“Thank you. I know I’ve been a dick.”

“I’m not exactly proud of my behavior either. It’s clear that we both care for her.” Bankes patted Johnny on the shoulder. “How about a truce. Call me if you need anything.”

Johnny walked him to the door, then headed back to her side. Eyelashes fluttered against pale cheeks.

He stood by the bed, taking in every detail. Her slightly bowed top lip, that stubborn chin and the damp tendril clinging to a delicate brow. He pushed the hair off her face and crawled up beside her, hoping for her sake it wouldn’t be a rough night.

***

“Hey, sleepyhead.”

John’s scruffy face swam in her bleary vision. “What time is it?”

“Just after ten in the morning. Easy, don’t tug at that arm, I’ve attached a line.”

Lizzy eyed her taped up hand and the bag of saline. “Why? When?”

“Around five in the a.m. You couldn’t stop puking, even after Bankes shot you up. Donnie came over with my kit; you’re on your second bag.”

“I don’t remember any of that.”

“You were pretty out of it. How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve been run over by a dump truck. The nausea is gone, but my back and stomach still hurt.”

“Do you think you could eat something?”

“Maybe.”

The room looked like a nuke had gone off. Face cloths and towels strewn across the floor. Her clothes, lying in heaps. A light throw covered her, as the heavier duvet lay crumpled next to her dresser. Five minutes later she gingerly ate a piece of dry toast and sipped on Coke. John looked as worn out as she felt as he repacked his kit.

“I may be okay to fly in the morning.”

He shook his head. “You’re not working the Johannesburg trip, you won’t be well enough.”

“I’ll be just fine if I rest up today, besides I get to see my parents. I’m not sure how long the layover is, but any time with family is a bonus.”

He looked out the window, and she couldn’t decipher the look on his grim face. “What’s up?”

“I have to get back to base. We’re rolling out in the morning. I called Bankes from my phone, he’s on his way, he’ll remove the IV and stay with you.”

Okay, then. She noted his set face and fixed eyes on an imaginary horizon. He barely blinked.

“I didn’t realize you’re leaving so soon.”

“It’s for the best,” he said carefully. That had her placing the plate down. She stared wordlessly at John and he never stirred, not even to look her way. It took a moment to find her voice.

“Are you breaking it off with me?”

“We’d have to be together for that statement to be true. You made it clear that we weren’t.”

“Wow. Okay.” She swallowed down the heart-shredding hurt. “Is it something I’ve done? Is it because you saw me puking?”

“Don’t be crazy; I’m a damn medic. Babes, I need space to get my head on straight. I’m not sure if I can give you what you need, and I need to work out our game plan.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means we’ve had a long night and I’m tired. It means you deserve better. Are we even moving in the same direction?”

She took a sharp breath.

He tidied the side of the bed where he’d lain, straightening the sheets. “Look, we’ll keep in touch and see what happens when I get back.”

“Is that the ‘let’s be friend’ speech?”

“No. It’s the ‘give me some time’ speech.”

She felt her chin tremble. “Well, here’s the ‘Signore, it’s been nice knowing you’ speech.”

“Jeez. It’s all or nothing with you. Why do you have to take it to the extreme?”

There was a knock on the door. As far as she was concerned, this conversation was over. Screw him and all the men on the damn planet with their sanctimonious bullshit. “Have a safe trip.”

“Don’t shut me out, Lizbug.”

“I’m not the one doing the shutting.” She closed her eyes against the pain.

A firm kiss lingered on her forehead. Eyes still squeezed shut, Lizzy turned away.

“I’ll text you to see how you’re feeling. Keep your phone nearby.”

Lizzy didn’t answer. A war of emotions raged, and her chest felt like it would burst from the heartache. This was only supposed to be fun. She knew this moment would come, but she’d thought they had more time. She’d also thought that she’d be the one doing the walking away. When she opened her eyes, John was gone, and Garrison stood in his place.

“Hello, sweetheart, I believe you’ve had a rough night. Let’s get you situated.”