Under the Gun. Lyn Stone

probably improve very rapidly. Put that psychology degree of yours to work and help him.”

      “What if he falls into a coma again?”

      “Roanoke’s only fifteen miles away. We can get an ambulance out here in less than a quarter hour if he needs it,” Jack promised. “He’s come out of it, Holly. The main thing we can do for him now is keep him safe and give him time to completely heal, both from his physical trauma and his grief. Protect him from this immediate threat to his life. That’s your mission.”

      “Aren’t you staying?” Holly asked Solange. Jack’s wife was a physician, a general practitioner, when he might need a neurologist. Still, she was better than no doctor at all.

      She shrugged and shook her head. “You can do everything for him that I could. Keep an eye on his vitals, relieve any pain he has with this—Hydrocodone. It might be better for him than the morphine.” She handed Holly another pill bottle. “Make certain that he eats enough to regain his strength. Bland food at first. Encourage him to exercise as soon as he begins to feel restless.”

      “He mentioned his sight. It’s fuzzy, he says. He should see a specialist.”

      “Let me know if that doesn’t clear up. We’ll fly in someone we can trust,” Jack promised. “Meanwhile, make him as comfortable as you can.”

      Holly nodded, accepting the fact that Mercier had already decided on this course of action—or inaction—and it would be useless to argue.

      She stared at the big old Victorian with its peeling paint and tangled shrubbery. A house straight out of a nightmare. She imagined cobwebs, bats and dust, maybe some drug paraphernalia left by former inhabitants.

      “We should get him inside.” Jack cast a look at Will, who lay motionless. “But I’ll go in first, check it out and alert the caretaker.”

      “Caretaker?” Holly asked as she tucked the blanket tightly around Will to ward off the chill of the night. All he wore was the hospital gown. He looked so vulnerable, Holly wished she could take him in her arms and hold him.

      Jack was still speaking, Holly realized. She forced herself to focus.

      “Our man here is retired Naval Intelligence. He’s been contracted to set the place up with a security system and outfit it as a safe house for DEA, so it’s sort of in transition right now. I asked for something off the records and appropriated the place through the highest channels, without offering any details about why we wanted it.”

      With that pronouncement, he climbed out and went straight to the back door of the house.

      Joe had taken off his headset and turned around. “Hey, Will, ol’ buddy?” he said softly, his Southern accent more pronounced than usual.

      “He’s out, but he should be coming around soon,” Solange said, shining a penlight into Will’s eyes as she lifted his eyelids. She looked up at Holly. “You have some medical training, yes?”

      “Worked as a paramedic for a couple of summers during college.” Holly shook her head. “But this…I don’t know, Solange. It’s out of my league.”

      “Call me if you need anything or have any questions,” she said, handing Holly a card from her doctor’s bag. “My cellphone number. Or call Jack and he’ll find me immediately.”

      Holly nodded, still wondering if they weren’t trusting her entirely too much with Will’s recovery. She was so afraid for him.

      Jack had returned to the chopper, bringing their host with him.

      “Donald Grayson,” he said by way of introduction. “This is Agent Holly Amberson.”

      “Mr. Grayson,” she acknowledged.

      “Call me Doc.”

      “Thank God. You’re a doctor.”

      “Nope. Got that tag when I was a medic. First job after I joined up at age eighteen. Even after I went to spook school, it just stuck.”

      Great, Holly thought. Anything he had learned would be dated by at least thirty years.

      Jack interrupted. “The rest of you stay put on the chopper. We’re taking off in about ten. Okay, ready to transport?”

      Holly helped roll Will far enough out of the chopper for Jack to get a grip on the upper half of his body while Grayson took his legs. Together they carried him the short distance to the house. Holly opened the door and stepped aside, cautioning them to be careful not to bump him around so much.

      Will woke up with a start, his head nearly exploding. The dryness in his throat reduced his cry to a groaning curse and he struggled with whoever was holding him.

      “Steady now. We’ll have you settled in a minute,” Mercier said.

      Will vaguely recalled there’d been trouble in the hospital. “Put me down. I want…to stand.” He had to know if his legs worked. He had to know. “Please,” he grunted.

      “Not a good idea,” he heard Holly say, but they stood him upright, bracing him so he wouldn’t fall.

      With effort, he straightened his legs and felt his bare feet resting solidly on the floor. It was everything between his feet and his head that gave him problems. His bones seemed to have melted, his muscles reduced to mush. Tingling mush, as if they had all gone to sleep. Damn!

      “Here’s your bed, sir, right behind you. Go ahead and sit down,” said an unfamiliar voice filled with concern. It was deeper than Mercier’s, not as clipped and forceful, but with the same speech patterns. Will thought he should ask who the man was…tomorrow, maybe. He felt his mind slipping, seeking rest.

      A softness caught him, pillowed his aching head. Someone lifted his legs and covered him with a blanket. No, a quilt, he realized as he closed his fingers around the puffy upper edge and felt the stitching.

      He drifted back into boyhood. Cool summer nights. Grandmother tucking him in, brushing his hair off his forehead, tapping his nose with her finger. “Morning’s waiting on you,” he mumbled right along with her, smiling back.

      Her soft laugh sounded younger. “So it is. Go back to sleep, Will.”

      “What did he say?” Jack asked. They had settled Will in and Grayson had left them alone.

      Holly busily adjusted the covers again, even though they didn’t need it. “He said ‘morning’s waiting,’ and he’s right about that. You’d better take off if you want to make McLean by sunrise.” She knew Jack needed to get back to the office, coordinate the team and locate Odin.

      “We need to talk first. Come out in the hall.”

      Holly followed him from the room. She could smell coffee brewing. Boy, could she use some of that. Exhaustion was setting in big time. She followed her nose down the hallway.

      Jack held back, his hand on her arm. “You can explain the details to Grayson after we’re gone. Just so we’re clear, in addition to guarding Will, your orders are to find out if he can add anything to what we know about the op at the airfield, and report to me as soon as possible.”

      She nodded.

      “While he’s asleep, you can work up your detailed description and a sketch of the guy in the hospital and get that to us, too. Joe and Clay will have to take over the other cases we’ve got going, which fortunately are in early stages and not critical. Eric and I will be concentrating on this Odin character. However, if things start popping on this, we’ll all be on it.”

      Holly faced him, hands on her hips. “You think it was Odin himself in the hospital?”

      “I believe it was. I’m counting on his coming after me, thinking I got a glimpse of him, too. And I’ll be a whole lot easier to find than you and Will.”

      She leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes.

      He grasped