Out of the corner of her eye, Zoe caught Hawk’s gaze focused on her as she maneuvered the car through a busy intersection. His presence in the seat next to her bred a hypersensitivity to her driving skills.
Surreptitiously, she glanced at him. He appeared at ease, his hands resting on his thighs. His right leg encased in a brace looked a mile long as it stretched beneath the dashboard; the left one appeared tan and muscular. His large frame filled the compact’s passenger seat, leaving little space between them. The clean scent of his cologne mixed with the sun block her mother, Sharon, and Katie Beth had smeared on at the pool.
Katie Beth, having decided to take up with him in a big way, chattered away behind them. “Swan Lake Barbie is the bestest one. She has a beautiful dress.”
“What about Frogman Barbie? Excuse me, Frog Lady Barbie?” he teased, shifting to look over his shoulder.
Katie Beth giggled. “There ain’t no Frog Lady Barbie, Hawk.”
“There isn’t a Frog Lady Barbie,” Clara Weaver corrected quietly. “Ain’t isn’t a word, baby.”
“Sure it is, Grandma, I just said it,” Katie Beth returned.
His grin flashed white. Zoe’s stomach flip-flopped.
“A frogman is a man who swims under water with special tanks on his back filled with air,” he said to Katie Beth.
“Uncle Brett did that in the swimming pool,” she said.
“The last time he was home, he gave the neighbor’s two teenage boys a demonstration in the pool,” Clara said. “Katie Beth was fascinated. I can’t believe she still remembers that. It was over a year ago and she wasn’t quite three.”
“I’m a big girl now, I’m four.” Zoe caught a glimpse of Katie Beth’s curls bouncing with the adamant nod of her head in the rearview mirror.
“I’m sure you’re going to be a big help to your mama, now that you’re going to have a baby brother or sister.”
“It’s going to be another girl,” Sharon said from the back seat. “Right now it feels like there may be two in there.”
“You’ll be more comfortable once you’re home,” he said, his tone soothing.
“I want to stay but my doctor has suggested I come home. My due date’s only eight weeks away, and he doesn’t want me to take any chances.”
The strain in Sharon’s voice had her stomach tightening.
Hawk said, “Brett would want you to do what’s best for the baby. He has the whole team, and your sister and mother, looking out for him. I’ll be around the hospital checking in on him, too. I’m sure your husband wants you home where he can keep an eye on you.”
Zoe agreed. Since being notified of Brett’s injuries, they’d been on constant red alert. The strain was beginning to get to them all. Hawk’s steady strength and air of command seemed a comfort to her mother and sister. And even she experienced a lessening of the pressure while around him.
“We can keep you posted on Brett’s progress and you can keep us posted on yours. Turner will call us the minute you go into labor, if we’re still here by then,” her mother said.
Zoe brushed at the fine strands of hair that had escaped the ponytail holder. She loved her family, but she was eager to get to the hospital to see Brett. They had discussed this before and covering the same ground over and over seemed counterproductive. She could offer her sister only so much reassurance.
“Brett will understand that you have other responsibilities you have to deal with, Sharon,” she said. “We’ve always understood how his responsibilities have precluded things in the past.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Sharon agreed.
“Having a brother in the military, especially a SEAL isn’t easy for anyone’s family,” Hawk said.
She fastened her attention on maneuvering through the parking lot and avoided glancing in his direction though she was aware of his gaze resting on her.
Had he recognized the resentment in her tone? Rationalizing that her brother’s job was important and that he loved it didn’t make it any easier. Never knowing where he might be, or how much danger he was in, made it doubly difficult. Fearing he was going to follow in their father’s footsteps, literally, made it impossible.
The motel, a generic five-story structure with balconies all the way around, squatted in the center of a large parking lot. Because of Katie Beth’s proclivity for adventure, they had opted to take a ground floor room and forego the effort it would take to keep her off the balcony.
“I’ll be right back,” she said. She exited the vehicle, leaving the engine running and the air conditioning blowing. Katie Beth jumped out behind her grandmother. She grabbed Zoe’s hand and held on like a Chinese finger puzzle.
Once they were inside the room, she settled Katie before the television to watch cartoons, and then turned to find Sharon in tears.
“There’ll be time for you to see Brett tomorrow morning before your flight,” she soothed. “Who knows, maybe he’ll wake up tonight and tell you good-bye.”
“Damn him, I wish he would.” Sharon clung to her for a moment, her pregnant belly snug against Zoe’s flat one.
“You’re exhausted, Sharon. You need to rest. Mom does, too.” Regret for her earlier impatience pinged away inside her, and she held her sister close. “Mom’s right next door if you need anything. Cuddle Katie Beth and maybe you’ll both sleep a little. I’ll check on you when I get back after visiting hours are over.”
“All right.” Sharon drew back, her nose and eyes red, her face wet. She reached for a tissue on the nightstand and mopped her face.
“Call home and talk to Turner,” Zoe suggested. “It will make you feel better to hear his voice.”
Sharon nodded. “I will.”
Zoe tapped the adjoining door and poked in her head. Her mother looked pale as she lay across the garish blue flowered spread. Her mascara, smeared from rubbing her eyes, crying, or both, underlined the exhaustion that etched her face.
“I’ll be back in a while. Do you need me to pick up anything?”
Clara shook her head. “Give Brett my love.”
Zoe’s throat ached. She gave a brief nod and closed the door.
She hastily checked her own sun-worn appearance in the dresser mirror. Tugging loose the elastic loop holding her hair, and giving the heavy strands a quick brushing, she secured it back into a ponytail. Conscious of Hawk waiting in the car, she ignored the rest of her appearance and hastened to join him.
The pain and frustration seemed easier to deal with if she stayed in motion, if she had a plan of action, a goal. Eventually Brett would wake up, if she hounded him enough. He hadn’t let her give up when it looked as though she might lose her leg. She wouldn’t allow him to either.
She slammed the car door shut and reached for the seatbelt.
Hawk laid a hand on her forearm. ”Something happen?”
His fingers, warm and calloused, rested against her bare skin sending a tingling sensation along her nerve endings. “No, why?” She rammed the buckle closed and tried to block off her response.
“You’ve got the same look on your face Brett gets when we’re going into action.”
She gripped the gearshift, but didn’t put it into reverse.
“I know how frustrating it must be not to be able to do something,” he said after a moment of silence.
“I don’t think you do, Lieutenant.” She recognized the edge that had crept into her voice and drew a deep breath.
“He’s not just one of the men under my command, Zoe. He’s also my friend.”
The letters Brett had written to her had been witness to that. “If you’re his friend, then you need to understand something.”
“What’s that?”
She met his pale gray gaze straight on. “I’m not going to let my brother die. He isn’t going to lay there like a vegetable either. Whatever it takes, however long it takes, he’s going to come back from this. If you won’t or can’t believe that, you needn’t bother visiting him.”
He gave a brief nod. “I’ll he
lp in any way I can.”
“Good.” Some of the tension inside her relaxed. “You can start by telling me what happened.” She put the car in reverse, and turned to look over her shoulder.
“I can’t discuss the mission, Zoe.”
“I’m not asking you to. I don’t care what, where, or when, I just want to know how my brother ended up in harm’s way.” She stopped at a stoplight.
“It’s a war. We were all in danger. That’s our job.”
Those few words, so succinct, so blunt, caught at her heart and gave her a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach. The light changed, and she stepped on the gas.
“I realize it’s your job to put yourself in dangerous situations. I’m asking if Brett was hit by flying debris or attacked by someone. How did he end up in a coma?”
His features looked honed from wood. “I’d like to be able to tell you, Zoe, but I can’t. An investigation is underway. I’m not at liberty to talk about it, not even to you.”
A dropping sensation hit her stomach. “No one told us about an investigation.”
“There’s always an investigation when something goes wrong. I’m sure you’ll be notified, now that you’re here.”
She fought the urge to pound the steering wheel in annoyance. “How do the other men’s families feel about this closed lip policy?”
“I’m sure they find it just as aggravating as you do.”
She took her eyes off the road long enough to flash him a look that had a wry quirk turning his lips upward.
“We go where no other unit can. We try to get in and out without anyone knowing we’ve been there. Most of the time, things go according to plan. This time, it didn’t.”
“When Brett first decided to become a SEAL, I did hours of research. I know how you train and I know how you operate. But knowing that doesn’t help me a bit, now that he’s hurt.”
They drove in silence for several minutes. She tried to concentrate on the road and block out the rush of emotion that made her eyes sting and her throat to ache. She was being a bitch, but she couldn’t contain her anger and grief. And he happened to be a handy target.
By the time she wheeled the vehicle into the parking structure at the hospital, tension had tightened her muscles to the point her leg ached from the strain. She knew she’d have to do some stretching exercises later to relieve the cramps. She had been on it too much today.
Because her own wreaked such havoc, she thought of Hawk’s leg. “How’s the knee?”
“A little swollen but holding up. How about your leg?” he asked.
Obviously, he had noticed her grimace of pain. “It’s there--which beats the alternative.” With the help of the door, she swung out of the car and gained her feet. By the time she’d come around the vehicle to help him, he had climbed out of the car and balanced on one foot. She retrieved the crutches from the trunk.
“Thanks.” He hooked the crutches beneath his arms, and maneuvered around the car door and slammed it.
“How long did they say you’d be on crutches?”
He adjusted his speed to accommodate her slower pace.
“A couple of weeks. I didn’t tear my ACL or do any permanent damage to the joint, just strained it badly enough for it to puff up like a basketball. I won’t start PT for another week or so. I should be good to go in six or eight weeks max.”
She nodded. ”A whirlpool or hot tub would do wonders.”
“So I’ve found. There’s one at the house we can share.”
Heat raced across her skin and settled in areas she tried hard to ignore. She pretended an interest in the flowering trees planted at equal intervals within the walk and hid the color in her cheeks.
The universal smell of antiseptic and pine scented cleaner permeated the air as they entered the hospital. She led the way into an elevator, and held the door for Hawk.
“Brett looks just as he always has,” she said as they exited the elevator, and started down the hall to the right. “He has an IV and a catheter, but other than that he isn’t on any kind of life support. If he doesn’t regain consciousness soon, they’ll have to put in a feeding tube.”
“What does the doc say is the reason he won’t wake up?”
“He’s had a severe trauma to his brain. A subdural hematoma. They had to drill a hole in his skull to relieve the pressure. His coma was induced by drugs at first, but now--”She shook her head.
“He could wake up tomorrow and be fine. Or he could wake up and have brain damage.”
She pushed open the wide wooden door. Silence rushed out to meet them. They stepped into the room. Each time, she saw her brother, so still upon the hospital bed, his head swathed in bandages, her heart ached as though it had been run over three or four times by an eighteen-wheeler.
A hard knot of emotion lodged in her throat. Had Hawk not been there, she might have indulged in a few tears to ease it. His hand slid down her back and came to rest against her waist. She pulled away. Her composure would desert her completely if she accepted the comfort he offered.
When she’d regained control of her emotions, she hazarded a glance at Hawk. His features were set in a grim forbidding expression, his lips compressed into a hard line. His pale eyes, darkened to steel gray, held a pain with which she was all too familiar.