Seek and Destroy (4 page)

    Wow. If all doctors looked like this, he wouldn't mind taking a bullet now and then. He shifted to sit up and immediately stopped moving. The blinding pain shot through him like a white-hot poker and he started to shake. He hissed in a sharp breath and froze until it subsided.

    "Let me help you," her sweet voice purred. She moved to the left side of the bed and slipped her arms up and under his arm. He couldn't deny the electricity as it jolted his system. She had amazing strength for her size, he noted.

    "You gave us quite a scare," she stated in a soothing voice. "You are a very lucky man."

    David winced as he tried to adjust in the bed. The agony that blazed through him rivaled when the bullet caught him back in that field. "Funny. I don't feel so lucky."

    She gave him a sideways glance and spiked her brow. That little gesture caused his pulse to spike in response. He felt some of the pain dissipate.

    "Let's get a look at your dressings." She walked back over to the other side of the bed. He watched her, noting how nicely her heart-shaped ass looked underneath that white coat. She had meat on her bones, more than he could say of half the women out there who thought frail and gaunt looked sexy. Oh no. She had a nicely rounded figure, sexy as sin, and ripe breasts that fit her flawlessly. Everything he'd seen so far made him question his belief about a perfect match.

    She sure as hell looked perfect to him.

    As she leaned over to him, her breast brushed up against his bare bicep. Oh dear Jesus. He felt her nipple, the way it hardened beneath the fabric from the contact. He responded as a result and held his breath.

    "McKoy," Weber grunted. "Enough of the nice doctor routine. Tell us what we're working with here."

    
McKoy
?
Son-of-a-bitch. He let out his breath. She was
ICE
?

    She lost her smile as she looked back at Weber. "I have to take care of his dressings, sir."

    "Isn't that the
real
doctor's job?"

    "I have my orders."

    "Your orders," Weber countered, "are to tell Snyder why you're here."

    With a pouty sigh, she stepped back. David felt his entire body ache in protest. She pulled up a chair and took a seat next to the bed, hiding her scowl from Weber.

    She was so cute when she pouted. He found himself grinning as he watched her, loving the way she wore her expressions on her face. When she eyed him watching her, she gave him a coy grin before lowering her eyes to her lap.

    Ah hell. Despite the fact he lay in a hospital bed, recovering from a gunshot wound, she had him semi-hard with that little gesture.

    After folding her hands on her lap, she brought her gaze back up. Those eyes. That pretty face. It had to be her. He knew it. The air stilled as he settled his gaze on her face.

    "How," he rasped, still unable to take in a full breath. "Your eyes. Your...face. It's..."

    "What?" She eyed him.

    "Familiar."

    She cleared her throat, lowered her eyes again. "I don't think so."

    "No," he insisted, certain of what he saw. "I know you. From...my dreams. My-"

    "How much dope did you give him?" Weber demanded in a growl.

    "I'm not in charge of his meds," his angel defended.

    "Let's just get on with it."

    She nodded. Her smile as she brought her attention back to him sent electricity shooting through his heart like a defibrillator. "Agent Snyder, I'm Special Agent Charis McKoy. I'm here-"

    "As in the Intel Central McKoys?" David cut in, all the good feeling she'd brought gone with the reminder of her name.

    "One in the same," she answered and adjusted her glasses as she crossed her very shapely legs. He refused to pull his attention away from the curved muscles of her calves, and the way those fantastic thighs disappeared under her white dress made him wish he
could
take a deep breath.

    He noticed the pale white scars traveling up her right leg, starting just above the ankle and disappearing under her white doctor's smock. To someone just throwing her a passing glance, they were practically invisible. But not to him. He studied her intently, memorizing every inch of her, knowing the last time he'd seen those legs.

    Oh Christ. It
was
her. Those scars. Those
eyes
. That landmine. He slowly took her in, wondering if every scar on her leg had been a result of the tragedy on the field that day. Did she have any others? His fingers tingled to strip her down and trace every inch of her to find out.

    She cleared her throat and broke his concentration. As he caught her gaze with his, he realized how embarrassed his gawking had made her. But the way the heat in her cheeks splashed color across her face caused him to continue to stare.

    "I-uh-I-" She cleared her throat again and played with her glasses as she kept her eyes down.

    He immediately felt like a pile of shit and wanted to say something, but Weber broke in.

    "There are a
few
McKoys working over at Intel Central," Weber pointed out. He turned his back to McKoy and gave David a
do-you-have-to-be-so-obvious
look.

    He pulled his interest away from the pretty doctor/agent and kept his eyes on Weber. Apprehension started to form in the pit of his stomach. "What is this? Why is ICE here?"

    
I'll explain later
, Weber signed, for David's eyes only.

    
You'd better
, he replied as discreetly as possible, all the while having a beauty of a doctor/agent staring back at him. His heart skipped. He pulled his gaze off her and decided to focus on the obnoxious pattern on his hospital gown.

    Why the hell did Weber send for ICE? Intel Central Enterprises had a reputation throughout NASSD. They were the best in the world at search and recovery of any information, no matter how top secret or confidential it might be. No matter who held that information, they recovered it. And they had the ego to match their reputation. They were the best in the world. Just ask them.

    They were also where NASSD recycled their agents who no longer had the physical ability to perform their duties. Sure, most agents went without a fight. Hell, some were even grateful they still had a job.

    Not this agent.

    Sam Wise, one of the best damn agents he knew, ended up over at ICE after having his knee blown out in Beirut. He'd emailed from time to time to tell him how much he hated ICE and wished the bullet had finished the job.

    "No fucking way," David protested. He ignored the new pain growing deep inside him. This one wouldn't be dulled by morphine, or even the touch of his angel. An angel, he thought bitterly, who turned out to be an agent from ICE.
Talk about kicking a man while he's down.

    She darted her gaze between Weber and David. "But, I haven't even started."

    "Save it," he interrupted, pissed his dream lady turned out to be ICE, and even more pissed NASSD had lied to him when they told him he'd been alone on that mission. He hadn't been alone. ICE had been there. They didn't normally do field work, which meant NASSD had to have brought them in and never told him. That revelation felt like a punch to the gut. Even on solo missions NASSD didn't consider him trustworthy. "I'm not interested."

    "You don't even know why I'm here."

    He gave her a crisp glare. "The hell I don't."

    "Listen, you've been wounded. It's going to take some time to get back on your feet."

    "Tell me something I don't know."

    She spiked her brow again, taking on the challenge. Again his heart rate spiked in response. Damn it. "Okay. It wasn't the bullet that almost killed you."

    "It wasn't?" David and Weber asked in unison.

    "If it wasn't the bullet," Weber cut in, "then what kept him out of it and in ICU for three days?"

    "Even we couldn't get in to see him until they brought him in here," JT added.

    "Actually," McKoy started slowly, and he somehow knew her next revelation would be even worse than her first. "It wasn't ICU. We had Snyder under quarantine for the past week, heavily sedated. My brother, Seth, kept a close watch on him."

    "Quarantine? For what?" He barked, then cringed when his injuries reminded him they were still there.

    "Ricin." She met his eyes, and for the first time he understood the seriousness of his injuries. Since he still remained among the land of the living, his injuries were not life threatening, at least not anymore.

    She took a breath and licked her lips. He watched the gesture keenly, oddly taken in by the shape of her mouth. It looked like it would be a perfect fit to his. Double damn it. "The bullet that obliterated your spleen and sliced through your liver left traces of Ricin all through your insides. You received a dose of almost three hundred micrograms when that bullet got you. Now, three hundred micrograms isn't enough to kill you. If he would have shot you more than once..." She didn't finish. And she didn't have to.

    "Did they get it all?" David asked. Thinking about how close he'd come to death really didn't settle well with him. And knowing that son-of-a-bitch who shot him did it as an act of bioterrorism really pissed him off.

    "Why the hell wasn't I told about this?" Weber barked. JT tried to calm him down by jumping up and placing her hands on his shoulders, but he pushed her aside. "No. I should have been informed."

    He challenged McKoy. When she didn't back down from Weber's glare, his thought of the good doctor upped a few notches. There weren't many who would stand up to Dan Weber. He cleared six foot by more than a few inches, and had a booming voice he used to his advantage. "You'd better give me a good reason why I don't send you back to daddy right now."

    David glanced at JT, who jumped back in front of Weber to stop him. The man looked ready to blow. "Dan! Stop it!"

    "All right." McKoy stepped out from behind JT and held her chin up. Holy shit. She challenged Weber right back. David's opinion of the good doctor/agent upped a few more notches. "I'll give you more than a
good enough
reason. ICE didn't inform you, Special Director Weber, because of your personal involvement with Snyder."

    "Cut the shit, McKoy. He's an agent under my direct supervision. That's as far as it goes."

    She spiked that lovely dark brow again. He found himself oddly drawn to that gesture, too. "Oh really? Two years ago, on the op where you met your wife, you three brought down the Mercado Cartel with the help from some of the local mercenaries, and successfully destroyed a biological weapon before it could be released. After you recovered from your injuries sustained in Colombia, you and Snyder took out an entire guerrilla compound in Beirut, among other missions along those lines. Last week you two successfully terminated Abu Khalil, as well as half his guerrilla army, on his own turf no less. And, for the past year, when
you
haven't been on assignment with him, you have assigned Agent David Snyder with your wife on all her ops."

    "He's a good agent," Weber defended.

    "He's a personal friend," she countered and turned to David. As she leaned over to check on his dressing again, he smelled the sweetness of her flowery scented perfume. Or maybe it was just her scent. Either way, it held his attention and awakened whatever parts of him not already very much aware of the good doctor, if any. His semi-hard-on grew into an embarrassing display of his lack of self-control.

    She eyed the tent pole under the covers and gave it an appreciative grin. With a slight hum, she even threw out a faint giggle. He should be embarrassed, yet from the way she eyed his obvious arousal, then blinked and looked back into his eyes with a playful lick of her lips, he hardened to a painful stiffness.

    "In fact," she continued after looking away from the erection she'd created, "there hasn't been an op involving Snyder that didn't also involve a Weber since Colombia."

    "This is ridiculous," Weber grunted.

    "This is reality," she countered again. Jesus, this woman didn't even flinch holding her own against the surly Dan Weber. David's pride for her swelled. He didn't know this woman from Eve. Why the hell should he give a shit how she interacted with Weber? "You wouldn't partner just anyone with your wife. We didn't want to risk your involvement. If something went wrong with Snyder's treatment, you would have lost it."

    "Bullshit!"

    McKoy paused her exam and glanced back over at Weber, an
I-told-you-so
look glowing in her eyes. "Oh really?"

    "Is it still in me?" He cleared his throat to pull her attention back to him.

    It worked. She went about finishing her exam, those deep eyes flicking back down to his groin. The hard-on that had faded down sprang back up, craving her attention. She traced his frame before finally resting her eyes on his face. Goose bumps peppered his skin even though he felt the heat from her gaze wherever it touched him. "The Ricin is dormant thanks to a series of treatments. But yes, it's still in you."

    That news deflated him. "Why?"

    She adjusted her glasses. "Ricin doesn't dissipate. It's absorbed into your system and becomes a part of you, which makes it even more dangerous than other chemical warfare agents. Others wash through your system. If you don't receive a lethal dose, you eventually recover."

    He swallowed. Even that hurt. "Will I?"

    "Oh, you'll recover. But you will always have three hundred micrograms of Ricin in your system. If you so much as get pricked by a needle with Ricin on the end, it could kill you."

    He choked back the dark horror consuming his heart and bared his teeth. How goddamn unfair. He survived being shot all so he could then live in fear of the next act of bioterrorism.