Kosamina…
The baby…
Nope. Not going there. Not yet. If he did—he’d break down—and now wasn’t the time. His years of military training kicked in, and he compartmentalized his thoughts. Priority one? Getting his ass the hell out of dodge before he caught any more lead.
Should be easy for a former green beret, right?
Wrong. He stifled a groan as he power-lifted his hand onto his stomach and then smoothed his palm over the bandage covering his torso. Okay, fine. More like he did a Thing imitation, finger crawling his way over the vast expanse of white gauze while he made his way to the electrodes taped to his chest.
But whatever.
When he reached his destination, he yanked on the connectors, and yay, success. He managed to scare the fuck out of his father when the heart rate monitor let out a piercing wail.
“Jamie!” Samuel shot upright, and vacating his chair, he came around the end of the bed to silence the alarm with a couple of jabs of his finger. “What the hell are you doing? You’re not supposed to be awake.”
No. He was supposed to be dead.
And would be soon if he didn’t get his ass in gear.
“Wa—” Slivers of glass cut a sharp path down his throat. “Wat—”
His hands not quite as steady as usual, Samuel grabbed an insulated water jug off the side table and poured. “Here.” He brought the plastic cup and straw to Jamie’s lips. “Sip slow.”
Despite his annoyance with his father’s terse words, and hating the fact he needed help to take a fucking sip of water, he followed the order and choked anyway. Pain shot straight through his torso like an eight ball to the corner pocket.
Winner winner chicken dinner. You get to live, but it’s gonna suck.
“What time is it?” he croaked between the hacking coughs shredding his already shredded guts.
Samuel set the cup down and looked at the watch on his wrist. “Almost two-thirty. Why?”
Shit. Not good.
“I need to get out of here.” Aware he’d regret his next move in no time, he managed to cross his arm over his body. More hindrance than help for the moment, the morphine delivery system had to go.
About to pull the IV out of the back of his hand, his slow-mo attempt was thwarted by a loose grip around his wrist. “Don’t be ridiculous. A liver dissection is not something you walk away from five hours post-surgery. Besides, Dr. Stine had to do a partial knee replacement. She said it’ll be at least two days before you can put any weight on your leg.”
Shit. Really not good.
“I need to go.” He struggled to lift his upper body off the bed.
“Easy.” The hand landing on his shoulder held him in place with minimal effort, the soothing voice sounding at odds coming from the cold-blooded surgeon making the delivery. “You’ve been through a traumatic experience, and you’re not thinking straight.”
“A little late for the parental concern, don’t you think,Dad?” If he could have, he would have brushed his father’s arm away.
Samuel frowned. “Now’s not the time to argue, Jamie. You need to rest and recover.”
“You’re not listening. I don’t have time to rest and recover. If I don’t get out of here soon, more people are going to die tonight, including me. You don’t want that to happen, do you?”
“If I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t have spent three hours in surgery saving your life.”
Jamie snorted and paid the price when another shot of pain sliced through his abdomen. “Well, unless you help me get out of here before the men who want me dead show up to finish the job, you wasted your time.”
Samuel’s brows drew down, his frustration apparent. “What are you talking about? What men?”
“Can’t tell you. Classified for national security reasons.”
“Surely your military unit will—”
