Page 50 of Operation Rescue
She wasn’t sure how this tiny bit of information they couldn’t even be sure was true comforted her, but it did. But then, Blaine had always had the knack. She stared up at him. He stared back, his eyes moving as if he were searching her face for…something. After a long, silent moment, he leaned down. And kissed her.
It was the lightest, briefest of touches, almost casual, but it took her breath away nevertheless. Because Blaine Everett had always been able to sear through all her defenses.
Standing still had made the chilly air more evident. And after the flash of heat he’d just sent through her it felt even colder. Blaine stepped back, as if he were having second thoughts about that brief but all too sweet kiss. She shivered slightly, from the cold or his absence she didn’t know. She pulled her lightweight jacket a little closer around her.
“I think that’s about enough for tonight,” Blaine said, his voice showing nothing of the turmoil she was feeling. “Hopefully the Foxworth guy in charge down here has some connections that will help, when he gets here.”
“They seem like…really good people.”
He nodded as they started to walk back toward her house. “Rafe did some pretty incredibly heroic stuff when he was in the Marines. But he says he’s prouder of what Foxworth does than anything else.”
“Sounds like a good place to be.”
Blaine nodded again. “He’s really happy. And he deserves it.”
So do you, Blaine Everett. So do you.
With a smothered sigh, she followed as the Foxworth dog led them back home.
And tried not to replay that kiss in her mind on an endless loop.
Chapter 25
Well, that had been one of the longest nights of his life.
That had been the stupidest move he’d ever made, kissing her like that, now, when he was only here because she was desperate. And that kiss had brought on memories of hotter, even sweeter kisses. Which in turn had brought on dreams of what that kiss would once have led to, unreeling in his mind like some adults-only movie.
He was grateful to see the faint lightening outside, telling him they were at least in astronomical twilight, probably close to nautical twilight. He told himself not to even guess at how much sleep he’d gotten, because it didn’t matter. The mission was on, and he would roll out.
At least in the hospital he’d been drugged up enough that he hadn’t really been aware of exactly how much time passed. Crazy how this seemed almost as painful as those seemingly endless days full of pain and fear. Fear that this was never going to end…and fear that it would, abruptly, when his heart finally gave out or his brain decided he’d had enough and shut down.
But somehow, every time he had gotten close, close to giving up, to surrendering, he’d felt slender, warm fingers wrap around his hand, felt a soft, tender kiss on his cheek, and even when he wasn’t entirely clear on why, he knew he had to keep fighting.
“She takes copious notes,” one of the ICU nurses had told him. “And never misses a thing. We’re all on our toes when she’s around.” The man had said it with an appreciative smile. “She’s one gutsy lady. In that part of life, you’re a lucky guy, Captain.”
He had the sudden thought that he’d never told Erin what the nurse had said. Maybe it would mean something to her, coming from a stranger—although he’d felt like a friend by the time they finally said goodbye to him—but one who had observed her firsthand.
He sat up on the edge of his son’s bed. He’d started out the night as he had both nights he’d been here, sitting on the front porch, in the dark, watching for any activity, not so much hoping Ethan might come home, but that he might try to sneak back to get something. What he’d taken might have been enough to get through a few days, but then he was going to be out of money. Which would mean starving, or stealing. Since he’d already started the latter, it wasn’t that big a jump from rodent food to people food. Or worse, expensive items that could be converted to eating money. Or worst, drugs.
With a smothered sigh he got to his feet. He walked over to the small desk under the bedroom window. He flipped on the desk lamp, and sat in what he guessed was a gaming chair, like he’d seen some of the guys using in the rec hall. He wondered how hard it had been for Ethan to leave that pretty fancy-looking game rig behind.
Methodically, he started going through the drawers. He’d done the dresser that first night, looking for anything his son might have hidden, a clue to where he might have gone, but had found nothing unusual. He’d looked at the desk, but had only done a cursory search. He’d remedy that now.
The only thing that had grabbed him was when Erin had appeared in the doorway and said quietly, “I did a more thorough check. He took your shirt with him.”
He remembered giving her a puzzled look. “What shirt?”
“He has one of your T-shirts from flight school.”
Realization dawned. “The one with the Huey on it? I wondered what happened to that.”
“He wears it on his birthday.” She had taken a deep breath before adding, “And on yours.”
It had been like an RPG straight to the gut. He’d bent over to put his hands on the dresser, afraid his knees were going to give out. He remembered wanting to go out and ask Rafe if they could go back to plan A and crash at the Foxworth headquarters.
He shoved aside the image in his head and went back to searching the desk. Erin said she had gone through everything, but there was always the chance she’d missed something, or that there was something that was meaningless to her but not to him. Or Ethan.
In the center drawer he found a few school papers, with big red A’s marked at the top. One math, one science, it looked like something about weather. A manual for his gaming system, still sealed in plastic. Obviously he hadn’t needed it to get up and running. In the top, side drawer he’d found some other boxes and paper instructional inserts for various cables and smaller tech items, all tossed in loosely. There appeared to be more of the same in the bottom drawer, except…
