Kelly Hunter - The Spy Who Tamed Me

‘Yourself?’

‘A bathtub helped.’

‘Jared, can you raise your arms above your head?’

‘Last time I tried that I woke up two hours later, facedown on the deck.’

‘When was that?’

‘Three days ago.’

‘Any additional problems since then?’

‘A crucifying lack of sleep.’

‘Jared, I’m going to check your lungs and heart. Then you’re going to raise your arms for me while I do it all again, and then you’re going to lie back down while I examine your ribs more thoroughly.’

Jared nodded.

Rowan tried to afford the man some privacy, but it was hard not to stare at the spectacular bruising that bloomed across his sculpted chest as the doctor unwound the bandage. He’d taken a beating, this man. And then some.

The doctor listened to his lungs and heart with a stethoscope and then poked and prodded around his stomach and lower still while everyone else stood and watched. And then, as the patient began to raise his arms and the doctor began to press on his ribs, he passed out again.

‘May as well keep going,’ said the doctor as he caught him and eased him back onto the bed with impressive nonchalance.

Jared came round moments later but stayed right where he was, encouraged to do so by the doctor’s hand on his shoulder.

The examination continued and the doctor finally made comment. ‘Without access to X-rays, I’m thinking he has four substantially cracked ribs.’

‘Show-off,’ muttered Lena, her voice ragged with worry. ‘What else?’

‘Soft tissue damage—as you can see. Probably some compression damage. Do we know what hit him?’

‘We know there was a series of explosions on board a yacht, and we can reasonably assume that Jared was thrown around by them. He also drove a truck through a warehouse wall and rolled a four-wheel drive in the desert.’

That was all the detail a civilian doctor needed.

‘All of which happened two to three days ago.’ She looked at the physician. ‘He’s been travelling ever since. Does he need a hospital?’

‘No,’ said West. Conscious again. ‘I’ve already been to one.’

Not by my reckoning. ‘Where?’

‘In … um …’ His voice drifted off. ‘Might have been Budapest. X-rays. Strobe lights. Everything. They gave me pills.’

‘Sure it wasn’t a disco?’ she offered dryly.

‘I like you,’ he said.

‘Can you remember the name of the pills?’ the doctor asked.

Jared snorted. ‘No. They were good, though. Kept the packet for future reference. Pocket.’

The doctor leaned down and rifled through the shirt on the floor, pulling out a small container. ‘How many did they give you?’

‘Five.’

‘Two to three days ago, yes? It says here one a day. Where are the other two? And don’t tell me you doubled up on them.’

So the patient said nothing.

‘What are they?’ asked Lena.

‘Cocaine derivative. Explains his ability to keep going, perhaps. And why he’s crashing so heavily now.’

‘Yep,’ Jared muttered. ‘Sleep.’

And then abruptly he tried to sit up again, with limited success.

‘Why are there strawberries? Am I in the bridal suite?’

‘No,’ Lena told him. ‘You’re in the spare room.’

Jared subsided somewhat, but kept eyeing the strawberries warily. ‘And those? Growing in the giant stripy teacup?’

‘What about them?’

‘Why?’ His voice conveyed vast layers of confusion and a complete inability to comprehend such a thing.

‘Her house, her rules,’ offered Rowan. ‘Don’t over-think it.’

His eyes opened to slits. ‘Does your spare room have strawberries in it?’

‘I don’t have any room to spare.’

‘You probably let people crash in your room instead.’ His lips quirked. ‘I like it.’

‘Jared,’ said Lena sternly. ‘Director on deck, remember? Less flirting—more respect.’

‘Why are you still here?’ Jared asked. ‘Shouldn’t you be at your wedding reception? All I’m doing right now is going to bed.’ His voice softened. ‘It’s okay. I’m okay. I made it here, didn’t I? Don’t make me regret the effort.’

‘If you need a hospital, Jared, and you’re lying about having been to one already, I swear on my new husband’s soul that I will make you regret it.’

‘She’s vicious,’ Jared told his best friend. ‘I hope you factored that in?’

The groom smiled, wide and warm. ‘Get some rest.’

‘I would if you left.’

The bride and groom made their exit, with Lena glancing back over her shoulder and warning her errant brother to be good just before the door closed behind them.

Only then did Jared allow his face to reset into a grimace of pain. ‘Hey, Doc? About those painkillers …’

‘On a scale of one to ten—one being zero and ten being unbearable—how much pain are you in?’

‘If I lie perfectly still I can get it down to about a seven.’

The doctor told him to stay in bed and rummaged through his black medical bag for two little blue pills. He got a glass of water to wash them down with.

‘This is going to knock you out. You may shower in the morning when you wake. No sudden movements. Preferably no more boat explosions or motor vehicle incidents.’

He looked at the patient and expanded his list.

‘No surfing, boxing, skydiving or martial arts training. No weights, rock-climbing or kayaking. Getting the picture?’

‘Loud and clear.’

‘Gentle swimming … floating, paddling. Pretend you’re three again. Shouldn’t be too hard, by the sound of it.’

Rowan liked this elderly smalltown doctor.

‘Listen to what your body is telling you and you might just come out of this in better shape than you deserve.’

Rowan liked this doctor a lot. ‘You’re not looking for casual work on an as-needed basis, are you? Because your bedside manner could really work for us.’

‘I’m two years away from retirement and I’ve seen everything I want to see and then some when it comes to medical emergencies. I don’t need to see any more of those.’

Pity.

‘Hey, Doc …’ the patient mumbled. ‘Do you think she’s got a funny face? I think so. But I really like it.’

The doctor sighed. ‘That’ll be the painkillers kicking in.’

‘Great voice too,’ Jared told them next. ‘Makes me think of sex. Does it make you think of sex?’

‘Son, you need to get some rest. Stop fighting it.’

The doctor slid Rowan a glance, his smirk in no way hidden.

‘You might want to leave before he proposes.’

‘I might want to hear it for blackmail purposes.’ Come to think of it, she might just want to hear it for her own selfish reasons.

But it was a moot point. The man on the bed was already asleep.

‘Do we have the all-clear to fly him elsewhere in the morning?’

The doctor nodded. ‘Get him X-rayed as soon as you can … keep him hydrated, keep an eye on him.’

‘Thank you for your co-operation.’

‘Not a problem—no matter what my wife says. Always a pleasure to help our special intelligence service.’ The doctor smiled his charmingly distinguished smile. ‘Who do I bill?’

Jared woke in a bed that didn’t rock with the rhythm of the ocean. It wasn’t his bed—he knew that much. His bed for the past two years had been a narrow bunk beside the engine room of Antonov’s super-yacht. It had been a floating fortress, locked down so hard that no one had been able to get near it undetected, and it had been more than capable of sinking anything that tried.

His bed hadn’t been soft, like this one, and his bunkroom sure as hell hadn’t contained a chest of drawers beneath a wooden window. Was that a pot full of strawberries sitting on top of it? He thought he remembered being puzzled by them last night as well. Because … why ?