Ethan nodded, forcing all his reactions into a box.
“You really her fiancé?” the doctor demanded, her gaze moving to his as she finished her examination of Sarah.
“Damn straight.” Ethan would lie to God himself in order to remain with Sarah. He’d take any punishment if the medical staff found out later he’d lied.
“Figures. You SEALs are all alike. You take care of your own.”
“Always,” Ethan ground out.
The doctor gave a number of swift orders to the two nurses and two orderlies standing by. Within minutes, they were transporting Sarah out of the cubicle and into the hall, heading for an elevator at the end that would take her up to the surgery floor.
Once there, Ethan reached out and gripped the doctor’s arm as they swiftly moved the gurney toward the operating room doors. “Dr. Tisdale, take good care of her?” He drilled the doctor with a dark look. A silent warning she’d damn well better save Sarah’s life.
The woman shook her head and pulled her arm loose from his grip. “There’s no way I’m earning a SEAL’s anger. I’ll take good care of her for you.”
Ethan stepped aside, watching Sarah being taken down the polished green hall toward an operating theater. He could go no farther, even though he wanted to.
He once again felt the adrenaline crash plummeting through him, and exhaustion slammed into him. His legs suddenly felt weak. He went to find the surgery waiting room. It was empty, and Ethan was grateful.
Knowing he had to check with Master Chief Hunter, he sat down and pulled out the radio, then punched in the channel that would link him with his team at Camp Bravo.
His heart, however, was with Sarah. She’d looked so pale. He couldn’t lose her. Not like this. Somehow he’d repair the damage he’d done to their fragile relationship. Ethan didn’t know how, but he’d figure it out. He felt a lump forming in his throat. Tears burned in his eyes as he felt all his carefully boxed emotions come roaring out of him. He wanted a chance with Sarah. She couldn’t die on that damned surgery table, bleeding out. Those surgeons
had
to save her life!
Ethan felt overwhelmed. Three of his SEAL brothers were fighting for their lives, too. Making the call, reporting in, Ethan apprised the master chief of the status of his SEAL team, including the names of the three who were currently in surgery.
“I’ve been monitoring the medevac, Hawk. How’s Chief Benson doing?” Ethan’s voice grew hoarse as he told Hunter about her condition.
“And you’re there at Bagram with her?”
“Yes.”
“Contact that Night Stalker pilot that brought your team into Bagram. Tell him to send the rest of the team back here. You stay there with her.”
The unexpected good news almost broke Ethan. Hot, burning tears in his eyes, his voice grew thick. “Thank you. I will.”
Hunter didn’t know they’d broken up. He only knew about the letter, and Ethan hadn’t said much to the master chief. Only to give the letter to Sarah in case she came over to HQ. He didn’t broach it now with Hunter. Later maybe.
“I just got a radio dispatch saying you took a hit to your vest?” the master chief continued.
“Yes,” he managed. “I’m good.” Ethan wasn’t going to whine about some pain and a huge bruise across his chest.
“The LT is authorizing you to remain there and get it checked out by a doctor. We’re not expecting you back here for forty-eight hours. Got it?”
Ethan felt an avalanche of emotions. The master chief knew he and Sarah had some kind of a relationship. Under ordinary circumstances, he would have ordered him back with the rest of the team at Camp Bravo. “I got it. Thank you, Master Chief.”
“Let me know how the SEALs are doing when they get out of surgery. And I want to know about Chief Benson, as well. She’s one ballsy broad. We were monitoring her all the way in.”
Ethan almost smiled. “That she is, Master Chief. I’ll give you updates on all of them.”
* * *
A warmth stole over Sarah. And then, as she slowly became conscious, she was aware of a strong, cool hand wrapped around hers. It took most of her energy to lift her lashes. The anesthesia was still in her bloodstream, and her eyes wouldn’t focus for a moment. Finally they did, and she saw Ethan standing next to her, holding her hand, his gaze intense on her. Even in her semiconscious state, her heart thudded. Ethan was there. With her.
“You’re here at Bagram, Sarah,” Ethan told her quietly. He smiled a little, relief in his low voice. “You’re going to be okay.” He leaned over, taking her mouth gently, giving her his warmth, his love, breathing his life into her.
Ethan’s mouth felt wonderful on her lips—so warm. His trembling hand moved across her hair; the tender gesture brought tears to her closed eyes. As Ethan lifted his mouth from hers, she looked up into his face. He was wearing clean cammies, his face and hair clean, as well. Her heart expanded fiercely with that unnamed emotion that lifted her. Fed her hope.
His kiss heated her body. Tears pricked the backs of her eyes. She saw his worry for her reflected in his stormy gray eyes.
“Y-you’re okay?” she managed, her throat dry and sore. So much of her wanted Ethan. When she had been losing consciousness, Sarah had understood that by running away from him, she’d made the worst decision of her life. But she’d been adamant. She’d seen Ethan die before her over her sharp words, her demands. Her heart ached unremittingly. The damage had been irrevocable.
“I’m good. How are you feeling?” Ethan anxiously looked at her face, at the purple shadows beneath her glorious blue eyes. He didn’t care if Sarah had asked him to leave her and never return. He’d take the flak. Her anger. Anything. He just wasn’t going to abandon her in her hour of need. Sarah had more color now. He could see the fine veins beneath her eyes. The taut skin across her cheekbones told him she was under stress.
“Thirsty,” she muttered.
Ethan was grateful Dr. Tisdale had given Sarah a private room instead of putting her in a ward with six other wounded men. He slid his arm beneath her shoulders and lifted her just enough so that she could drink from the straw in the glass. Just getting to hold Sarah, to feel her in his arms, made his heart surge with joy.
They had washed her black hair, washed away the blood and sweat he’d seen on her in the E.R. The light blue gown did nothing but enhance the beauty of her cloudy-looking eyes. Ethan could tell she was fighting the anesthesia.
“More?” he asked.
“No, I’m fine...thanks,” Sarah whispered, reveling in the strength of his arm around her shoulders. She wearily rested her head against him, feeling infinitely weak but happy. “You’re okay. That’s what I needed to know.” She closed her eyes and sank back into the netherworld of anesthesia and sleep.
* * *
Ethan watched anxiously as Sarah drew out of her deep sleep. It was near noon, and the sun shone through the venetian blinds of the small, quiet room. After easing stiffly out of the chair where he’d slept off and on all night, he stood at her bedside. In her left arm was an IV giving her nutrients. He could see part of the white dressing, her right arm in a sling, keeping the injured area protected. He heard her moan, her lips parting, her brow wrinkling. Was she in pain? Ethan almost pushed the buzzer attached to the edge of her pillow to get a nurse in there to give her more medication. Something cautioned him to wait. He tried to brace himself because Sarah had made it abundantly clear she did not want him in her life. His emotions were raw and screaming to reclaim Sarah, to beg her for forgiveness, but he couldn’t protect himself from whatever truth she might say to him. This time, she’d be wide-awake. Not in the netherworld of anesthesia.
When Sarah’s blue eyes slowly opened, Ethan’s breath jammed in his throat. Her gaze was no longer cloudy. The anesthesia was finally dissolving out of her system. Did Sarah see him? He wasn’t sure until he lifted the fingers of her left hand and gently held them in his own. And then those glacier-blue eyes of hers moved slowly, meeting his gaze. He smiled a little, feeling soul-deep relief.
“You’re home,” he told her, his voice unsteady. “And you’re going to be okay, Sarah.” His throat ached with tears of relief. Ethan swallowed several times.
Ethan’s voice was like a healing balm poured over her heart. Sarah felt his calloused fingers around her own, heard the barely veiled emotions in his voice, saw the anxiety deep in his eyes as he watched her closely. She managed a grimace. “Where am I?”
Ethan slowly went over a very abbreviated list of events that had gotten her to Bagram hospital. Every minute, he watched Sarah becoming more alert, her eyes cleaner and more sharply focused on him. By the time he was done, she sighed.
“I didn’t think I was going to make it here. Pascal and Potter had their hands full with your brothers in the rear. He needed my copilot, Tait, back there to help stabilize them.” Her mouth pursed with tension, and she closed her eyes. “I was bleeding out, and I knew it. I was praying like hell I could last until we landed.” Sarah was grateful he was still there with her. She only vaguely remembered Ethan at her bedside the first time she’d become conscious.
Frowning, Ethan began to realize her quiet courage. “The two SEALs you picked up are going to make it,” he told her, squeezing her fingers gently. “And Tolleson, who got wounded later, is in good shape. We took a lot of hits up on that ridge.” He tried to keep the anger out of his tone.
Raising her lashes, Sarah muttered, “It’s good to hear they are going to make it. I like happy news.” And then she studied him. “You were hit in the Kevlar, Ethan. How are you?”
Ethan was struck by Sarah’s care over his SEAL friends and himself. She wasn’t asking about herself, but about the others she had saved. His heart expanded with an intense love for her. “I got hit here.” He pointed to the left side of his chest. “I’m good.”
“Thank God,” Sarah whispered, “because I just happened to see you spin around and fall. It scared the hell out of me, Ethan.” Tears came to her eyes, and her voice was hoarse and scratchy with emotion.
Leaning down, Ethan cupped her cheek, his face inches from her. “You are the bravest woman I’ve ever known, Sarah.” His voice grew unsteady. “Out there on that ridge, you were magnificent. You sat that Black Hawk down like you owned the real estate, never a hesitation or a bauble.” Ethan smiled tenderly down at her, and, God help him, he was driven to kiss her, to somehow let her know even now that he loved her. He could never tell Sarah that, but he felt raw and aching for what might have been. “But I know you do now.” He took a huge risk and curved his mouth gently across hers, feeling her warmth, her life blossom beneath his in her returning kiss. She wasn’t going to push him away. A tendril of hope spiraled through his chest.
Sarah felt Ethan’s mouth lift from hers. Heat and joy flooded her as she looked up, drowning in his stormy gray gaze. She knew that look. He eased his trembling fingers through her clean, shining hair. “You told me last night. Don’t you remember?”
Brows drawing down, Sarah said, “No...I don’t remember much.” Except his kiss. She remembered that, remembered how the heat of his kiss warmed her icy-cold body, warmed her heart, her soul. She had told him to walk out of her life. Yet, he was here. He’d come. He hadn’t abandoned her. What had she done? Ethan smoothed out the wrinkles across her brow with his thumb.
The door opened, and Dr. Tisdale entered. She shut it and said, “Well, well, good to see you awake, Chief Benson.” She walked over to her and gently eased the blue gown down off her right shoulder, checking the dressing over the wound. “So far, so good. How are you doing?”
Sarah liked the lean woman with the long, graceful hands. Tisdale had short gray-and-brown hair and caring hazel eyes. “I’m good, Dr. Tisdale.”
“I kept that piece of Plexiglas that severed your brachial artery. Want it as a souvenir?”
Managing a sour grin, Sarah muttered, “No. I’ve seen enough Plexiglas to last me a lifetime.”
The doctor eased the gown up on her shoulder. “What I want to know,” Tisdale said, getting serious, “is how did you manage to fly that helo into Bagram? We put nearly two pints of blood back into you. By all rights, you should have passed out halfway here.” She drilled a hard look down into Sarah’s widening eyes.
“I—don’t know,” Sarah admitted, sobering over the news.
“I found this out from your copilot, Tait. He said he was in the back, helping your medics save those two SEALs.” Tisdale wagged her finger into Sarah’s face. “If this
ever
happens again, Chief Benson? You get your copilot up there to take over immediately. If you’d have passed out from blood loss, that bird would have gone down and all six of you wouldn’t be here today. All right?”
Nodding, Sarah knew she had an ass-chewing coming. “Yes, ma’am. It won’t happen again.”
“Good.” Tisdale snorted, reading over her chart. “Because you got very, very lucky, Chief Benson. That Plexiglas cut the main artery in your arm. Could have sliced through and cut some nerves that would have rendered your hand numb for the rest of your life.” She closely observed Sarah’s hand peeking out from the white sling. “Move your fingers for me?”
Sarah did.
“Your wrist? Slowly. You don’t want to aggravate the wound. I did a good job of sewing you up, and I don’t want to see my fine work screwed up.”
Almost smiling, Sarah did as she requested.
“You have full feeling in every finger?” Dr. Tisdale took each one and poked it with a somewhat dulled steel needle.
“I can feel every finger,” Sarah said. Stunned, she realized that if she’d lost the use of any part of her hand, never mind her arm, she’d never be allowed to fly again, and that just couldn’t happen.
“Hmm, good,” Dr. Tisdale murmured, picking up her chart and writing notes on it. Looking up, she said, “Your fiancé was like a junkyard dog last night, snarling and snapping at my team when they brought you in.”
“What?” Sarah looked over at Ethan, stunned. Her fiancé? He had an innocent look on his face, if it was possible for him to look innocent.
“Yes,” Dr. Tisdale muttered. “I’ve been around this place for two years and learned early on you don’t screw with a SEAL team member who’s wounded. Or—” she gave Sarah a one-eyebrow-raised look “—with his fiancée.” Dr. Tisdale smiled. “You’re going to be going into rehab in about a week, Chief Benson. Now, just between you and me, I think you’d rather rehab here at Bagram, and we do have a fine physical therapy facility for it, rather than be sent stateside?”