Fire Born (Firehouse 343) (34 page)

Martie crossed herself and said a silent prayer for a speedy recovery. “Do you think I could go s
ee her? Not right this moment, but in a little while?
”

Jackie raised an assessing eyebrow,
then
nodded. “I’ll go get a wheelchair—no arguing. You go in the chair or not at all.”

Nodding, Martie replied, “Of course.
Whatever you say.”

“
I’ll have an orderly come clean up the spill,” the other woman said as she started for the door.

Martie chuckled. “’Spill’ is a really nice way of saying ‘puke’,” she said.

Jackie laughed. “We aim to please,” she said, stepping into the hall.

When she had gone, Martie resettled herself as comfortably as she could in the confines of the hospital bed, preparing herself to listen to whatever Chris had to say. She knew her heart was already full of love and hope for a future with the man, but just hearing Tony tell her he
’d said he
loved her wasn’t enough. She wanted—needed—to hear it from Chris
:
in his own voice, in his own words. She hoped he said them in his message, and greater still was the hope that she would get to hear him say he loved her in person very soon.

She certainly wanted to say it to him
.

As she was about to press play, there was a light knock at the door. Jackie pushed a wheelchair inside when she bade the visitor
enter
, followed by an orderly pushing a maintenance cart. Martie felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment that the poor woman had to clean up her vomit, and apologized for the mess.

The woman chuckled lightly as she worked.
“It
ain’t
nothin
’ I haven’t seen before, hon,”
she said. “Hell, I’ve seen worse.”

Jackie patted the back of the wheelchair. “Just press your call button when you’re ready to travel, okay? I spoke with the on-call doctor, and he wants you to drink some
of that water on your table. If you keep it down,
I’ll remove your I.V. before we go.”

Martie nodded. “Okay. Thank you, Jackie,” she said, and after just a few minutes’ time, she was alone again. With a sigh, she lifted the recorder and pressed play.

“
Hello
,
wóthe
ȟ
ila
,” Chris began, his use of the Lakota equivalent of ‘sweetheart’ warming her all over and bringing a smile to her face. “
I want so much to stay here with you, but your brother and my crew—not to mention the hospital staff—have strongly encouraged me to go home and get some sleep. Which means they nagged until I caved, though personally, I’d rather climb in that bed right next to you, wrap my arms around you, and fall asleep to the sound of your steady breathing
.

“
Martie, I have never—in all my life—been as scared as I was yesterday, when I realized that the car I’d just doused was yours. That not only was Ronnie missing, but you had been taken with her. Not knowing where you were or what was happening to you made me sick. I felt so
lost and alone, and afraid I was never going to see you again. And that made me realize just how much I’m in love with you. It no longer mattered to me what you’d done to hurt me—I just wanted you
back,
and safe in my arms where you belong
.”

He sighed then, and there were a few
seconds of silence before he
continued. “
I’m sitting here looking at you as you sleep, under the influence of the sedatives the doctor gave you, and I’m finding it difficult to breathe. My chest literally hurts each time my eyes take in your battered face, because you should never have been made to suffer a
s you did. I think about what that bastard
did to you that I can clearly see, and I’m doing my damnedest not to think about what he did that isn’t so obvious as a bruise. Because every time I do, I imagine all manner of things that make me want to puke. It makes me wish he’d survived the fire, because I’d be more than willing to end
his life for what he did to you, just so the pain and memories of that hell would go away
.
”

She hit the stop button, ne
e
ding a moment to collect her thoughts.
Chris had said that he was in love with her. That seeing her battered and bruised at the hands of another made him physically ill. He even admitted that he’d have killed Graham himself if it would take away the memories. Though she certainly wouldn’t have wanted him to commit murder on her behalf, the sentiment behind that declaration meant a great deal to her.

Martie wasn’t really sure how she felt about hearing that Graham was dead.
Right now, her feelings for her former boss ranged from anger to disgust to pity
,
to wondering what the hell had flipped his switch. But for the most part, for right now at least, she didn’t want to think about him at all. Thinking about Graham meant remembering what he’d done to her, when she’d been virtually unable to stop him. Her stomach started to churn again, and so she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and pushed all thoughts of Graham Henderson to a dark corner in the back of her mind, to be dealt with when she was a lot stronger emotionally.

After reaching for the water pitcher she poured some into the plastic cup beside it, sitting straight again and taking a tentative sip. Encouraged by the fact that her stomach didn’t immediately revolt, she drank more and
pressed the play button again, eager to replace the darkness with the light created just by the sound of Chris’s voice.

“
I won’t ask you any questions about what happened. I know th
at you’ll tell me whenever you’
re ready. Just know that I am here for you whenever you want me to be. Actually, I’d very much like to be here for you, to be with you, every day for the rest of my life—but given what you
know about me, I’ll understand if your feelings for me have changed. And even if they have, I still love you. I always will
.”

Tears of a different nature fell silently from her eyes as the message ended. Martie hugged the recorder to her chest, wishing it were Chris she was holding instead so that she could assure him she still wanted him. So that she could tell him she loved him too.

Later
, she told herself. Chris was coming back to see her, that much she knew, and she suddenly wished she could get a shower before he did. Her legs and everything else below her neck felt fine—it was her head that hurt, she thought, noting that she had a dull headache. Dull, she mused wryly, was a blessing compared to how it had felt to be hit with the butt of Larry’s gun or Graham’s fist, so she wasn’t going to complain until such time as the ache became intolerable.

Reaching for the call button again, she
rang
for Jackie.

***

The nurse at the desk—Jackie, he thought her name was—shook her head and
tsked
softly when Chris wa
lked by the nurse
s
’
station on
Martie’s floor. Okay, so he’d only been gone about four hours, so what? He couldn’t sleep.
He needed to see Martie, to look into those beautiful golden browns and
know
that she was all right.

He needed her to tell him, once and for all, whether or not there was a chance at a future together.

As he approached the door to her room, Tony was coming out of it. The elder
Liotta
merely shook his head when he saw him. “I had a feeling I’d see you again before too long,” he observed as he approached.
“Nice flowers.”

Chris raised an eyebrow
and adjusted his grip on the vase of red roses he’d purchased at the Gracechurch Greenhouse before coming over
. “I should think you’d be happy. My being here means I find it difficult to stay away from her. It’s a sign of devotion.”

“Or that you’re a stalker,” Tony quipped lightly.

At his frown, the other man reached up and scratched the back of his head. “I’m sorry—poor choice of words. The
snark
is
has no
filter when it comes to men who are interested in my sister.
”

Against his desire to appear annoyed, Chris smiled. “
Which, in its own twisted way, is also a sign of devotion.
”

“Well, you know what the song says… ‘When a man loves a woman, can’t keep his mind on
nothin
’ else’,” Tony countered.

“
That’
s exactly why I’m here—I couldn’t sleep for thinking about her.”

Sighing, Martie’s brother nodded. “Well, since you’re apparently incapable of listening to sound medical advice, you can keep her company a while. I’m headed to Alexandra’s B&B
to grab a few
z’s
before I drop from exhaustion.”

“It’s a nice place,” Chris said with a nod. “Comfortable beds, nice service. I stayed there a few weeks when I first moved to town some years back.”

Tony snorted and started past him. “I’m pretty sure they’ve at least flipped the mattresses since then,” he muttered.

Chris stifled a laugh and started for Martie’s room, stopping when Tony called to him.

“Hey Chris, do me a favor.”

Turning, he asked, “What’s that?”

“Try and keep your hands to yourself—at least until she’s out of the hospital.”

Before he could formulate a snappy comeback, Tony had turned again and walked away. Shaking his head, he stepped up to Martie’s door, knocking lightly and pushing it open. “Martie?” he called lightly as he stepped inside.

“Just a second,” she said from off to his left, where he noted the door to the bathroom was closed. A few moments later, she emerged, her hair twisted into a towel on top of her head and her body wrapped in a long, hospital-issued bathrobe.

It took every ounce of effort he had not to think about how she was most likely naked under that robe. He could feel his blood rushing to his groin and forced himself to look down at the flowers in his hand.

“I, uh, I hope you like roses,” he said haltingly.

“They’re beautiful. Thank you,” she said. “Could you put them on the bedside table for me?”

“Sure,” he replied, and when he reached the table he saw the recorder sitting there. He wondered if she’d listened to it already.

As though she had rea
d his thoughts, Martie said softly
, “I got your message
.”

Chris cleared his throat and turned to look at her slowly, determinedly keeping his eyes on hers. “What did you think of it?”

Martie smiled.
T
hen she walked over to him, lifted her hands to his face and brought it down to hers. “I think I loved it almost as much as I love you,” she whispered, and then closed the fraction of distance between them, touching her lips to his.

He was instant
ly on fire, lust rapidly burning a
trail through his blood, flooding him with desire. He wrapped his arms around her and drew her to him, reveling in the feel of her body against his once more as she opened her mouth to his probing tongue. When her hands moved back and she threaded her fingers in his hair he groaned, and it was with no small amount of effort that he pulled his lips from hers.

“God, how I’ve missed you,” he said huskily.

“I’ve missed you too,” she replied, her voice slightly breathless. “But why did you stop
?
”

He raised an eyebrow. “Well, a couple of reasons. One being that we’re in a hospital.”

She chuckled. “I’ve no doubt the medical staff have christened just about every room in the building.”

“Maybe so,” he countered. “But they were all in prime physical condition—or so one assumes.”

Martie stepped back from him then, unwrapping the towel from her hair and tossing it to the side before undoing the sash at her waist and opening the robe to reveal that she was, indeed, naked underneath.

“Are you saying I’m not?” she teased as she allowed the robe to slide down her
arms to the floor.

“Christ, Martie,” he cried hoarsely, his dick already rock hard and straining to be released. He wouldn’t have thought it possible to want her more than he ever had, but this display of wanton
ness was sorely testing that preconception.

“Baby, I want you, believe me. But you were just…”

“Chris, we’ve already missed so much time together,” Martie sa
id, stepping up to him again and
pressing
her breasts to his chest as she wrapped
her arms around his waist. “Please give me a reason to have locked the door behind you.”

A slow, sly smile spread across his face as he gave in to the desire to plant his hands on that ass he loved so much, kneading the firm buttocks and eliciting a moan from the owner. “You locked the door?” he asked rhetorically, echoing words she had said to him little more than a week ago.