SEAL's Embrace (6 page)

As they maneuvered him onto a backboard on his side, the little bit of movement jolted something loose and pain ripped through his body. He moaned, biting down hard on his tongue to keep from crying out.

They settled him onto a litter and four volunteers carried him across the tarmac to a waiting ambulance.

“Caesar?” a familiar voice called out to him. Lt. McGee’s face appeared over him, her auburn brows knit in a worried frown. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he managed, the pain radiating through him like a white-hot poker being pressed against his nerves.

“We’ll get you fixed up, don’t you worry.” She squeezed his hand and moved out of the way while he was loaded into the ambulance, then she climbed in beside him, checked his pulse and blood pressure. “Talk to me.”

“No.” He clamped his jaw against another wave of pain.

“Okay, then I’ll talk to you.” She went on to talk like they were sitting over a cup of coffee in the mess tent, all the while her hands moved over him, establishing an IV drip. “Do you like dogs? I do. One of these days I hope to have two golden retrievers. Of course, it’ll have to be when I’m no longer flying CCATT missions.” She leaned down and smiled. “Are you a sports fan? I have to admit, I’m a sucker for a good hockey game. I like the violence and the passion. I know, I’m supposed to be a peace-loving nurse, but give me a fight in the hockey rink and I’m on fire.” She chuckled, the sound forced, the worried frown never leaving her brow. “What’s your pain level on a scale of one to ten?”

At that particular moment, he was back to no feeling. “Zero.”

The V of her brows deepened and she reached out to touch his leg. “Feel that?”

She’d touched him?
He shook his head. “No.”

“When they were loading you onto the backboard, you were moaning.”

“Pain level was at eleven then.”

“And nothing now?”

“Nothing.”

“Okay. Could be shrapnel pressing against the spinal cord. We’ll get you into X-ray and check it out.” She gripped his hand and held it the rest of the way to the field hospital.

Being unloaded from the ambulance, the shift once again triggered the pain. He clenched his fists and grunted.

“Hurt?” Erin asked. “That’s a good sign.”

“Doesn’t feel so good,” he said through clenched teeth.

“We’ll get you on some morphine as soon as possible.” Erin leaned over him and whispered in his ear, “I’ll see you in a little while.” She brushed a chaste kiss across his temple and released his hand.

He was wheeled into the hospital and straight into surgery. Once the anesthesiologist fitted the mask over his face, he was out, his last thought before he drifted off was to send a prayer to God that he would wake up still possessing the ability to walk.

Erin didn’t have
time to worry about Caesar in surgery. As soon as she got to the hospital, she was ordered to report to the C-17 that had landed an hour earlier and prep it for litters and patients. The state department wanted the Germans transported back to Germany as soon as they’d been stabilized.

She worked beside the other members of her team and the cargo master to transform the cargo area of the big plane into a fully-functional flying ambulance and intensive care unit. Equipment was moved on board, latched down and powered up, with technicians testing the functionality.

While the surgeons operated and did what they could, the CCATT teams worked the inside of the aircraft. Hours later, they were given the word that the patients were ready for transport. The team and every volunteer they could muster moved patients from the hospital to the staging facility, disconnecting respiratory equipment from fixed units to mobile units and moving the patients and the apparatus to the airplane.

When another team brought the SEAL on board, Erin’s belly flipped and she hurried to his side to ensure he was carefully placed where she could keep watch over him, as well as two Germans. The other team would care for the other two Germans and the Taliban leader. The German government had balked at allowing the Taliban leader on German soil at Landstuhl. But the American state department insisted he get medical treatment necessary to keep him alive for interrogation purposes. As a trade for rescuing the German soldiers and delivering them home, the intel that hopefully could be gained from Hassani would guide them to the whereabouts of the four Americans still being held.

Erin monitored her patients, checking vital signs. They all slept through the take off.

The flight would be long from Bagram to Germany and she’d be on her feet the entire time. Her job was to get these boys home.

She read Caesar’s chart. The surgeon’s notes had been brief. He’d removed all but one piece of shrapnel. That one, he’d saved for the surgeon at Landstuhl, who was known for his delicate work with spinal cord injuries.

Erin gazed down at the big SEAL. All the muscles in the world would be useless if the damage to his spinal cord was permanent. Her heart always bled for the soldiers who made it back to the states crippled for life. What a difference from the young men who’d walked into the war on two feet.

“Hey, no sad faces,” a voice whispered, pulling her out of her melancholy.

Her heart warmed and she touched his arm. “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

“Thirsty.” He smacked parched lips and winked. “I was dreaming about one short, hot drink of water.”

“That phrase only works with long cool drinks of water.” She got him a cup of water and held up a straw to his lips. “Go slow.”

“What’s the prognosis?”

“They removed most of the shrapnel.”

“Most?”

“You’ll have to see a surgeon when we get to Landstuhl to get the last one.”

“I take it, that one’s lodged close to my spine?” He closed his eyes, his brows creased.

“That’s the one. Are you feeling the pain again?”

“A little.”

“Yeah. There are no heroes where pain is concerned.” She reached for his IV. “I can give you more morphine.”

He grabbed her wrist. “Rather have a kiss.”

She laughed. Soldiers on pain drugs often asked her for a kiss. But she’d never wanted to give any of them one. Until now. “All I can do for you is morphine.”

“Then I’ll wait until we’re alone.”

“That will be a while.”

“I can be a very patient patient. Pardon the pun.” He chuckled at his own joke, his frown deepening. “Remind me not to laugh.”

“Don’t laugh,” she said and dipped a cloth in cool water, dabbing it over his forehead and cheeks. “I have to check on my other patients.”

“Don’t be kissing on them, now.”

She smiled. “I promise I won’t.” His play at jealousy made her warm all over in the cool interior of the aircraft. Moving between respiratory equipment and IV drips, she checked the Germans’ vital signs for the sixth time since they’d taken off. Unlike the SEAL, they were fast asleep, sedated, their faces bruised and swollen from torture by the Taliban. She had a hard time forgiving the enemy in the litter near the rear of the plane and was glad she didn’t have to treat him. If she was assigned to, she would. But she didn’t have to like it.

After she’d done due diligence for the German soldiers, she returned to Caesar’s side and offered him another sip of water.

He took it gladly. “I’d rather have that coffee I mentioned back at Bagram.”

“When you’re up and moving again, I’ll consider it.”

He braced his hands on the litter, his muscles bunching.

Heart fluttering, Erin placed her hand on his shoulder. “Be still. The more you move now, the more chance of permanently paralyzing yourself.”

“Want that coffee,” he grunted.

“I’ll get you a cup as soon as you’re out of surgery and the doctor okays it. I promise.”

“I figured you’d be right back on the plane once we land.”

“I’ll see if I can pull some strings.” She checked the tube leading from the fluid bag to his arm. “You should sleep. I’m increasing your sedative.”

He reached for her wrist. His grip held surprising strength for someone who’d just been in surgery. “What did I tell you about moving?” she chastised him.

“I want you to know I have no regrets. What we have means something.”

Her cheeks burned. Erin avoided his gaze, stared down at where his big hand held her small wrist and she shrugged. “Don’t make too much of everything.”

“You wouldn’t have come to see me off if it meant nothing.”

How did she relate her premonition? “I had to see you again. I got that bad feeling that something wasn’t right. I couldn’t explain it, but I had to see you before you left.”

“Did you think I wasn’t coming back?”

Her throat closed and the backs of her eyes burned. She nodded.

Caesar snorted. “After that kiss, nothing would keep me away.”

She glanced around to see if anyone else was listening to their conversation. The respiratory therapist talked with the flight surgeon on the other side of the German patient. For all intents and purposes, she and Caesar were alone. “The kiss didn’t mean anything.”

“If it didn’t mean anything, you wouldn’t have given it to me.” He smiled. “The beauty is that you can’t take it back.” His fingers tightened on her wrist. “I’ll get better soon and I’ll want another,
mi amor
.”

“That can’t happen. You’re an enlisted SEAL. I’m an Air Force officer. It won’t work.”

“You’re a woman, I’m a man.” His words slowed. “We were meant for each other.”

He loosened his grip and smiled, his eyes closing for a moment. “Besides, I liked the way your lips felt on mine. I’ll dream about them.”

She pulled up the sheet and blanket around him. “You do that.” In the meantime, she’d stand watch and make sure he made it to Landstuhl alive. Hopefully, once there he’d get the attention he deserved to save his legs from paralysis. Then maybe she would kiss him again. In private. Away from prying eyes and commanding officers bent on enforcing regulations.

Caesar woke once
more as they offloaded the patients at their destination at Ramstein Air Force Base. He was loaded into an ambulance and transported to Landstuhl Regional Medical Center where a surgical staff awaited his arrival. He didn’t see Erin again and he really wished he’d had the chance to see her one more time as a whole man. If he came out of surgery paralyzed for life, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. He sure as hell wouldn’t expect her to hang around a cripple. He wouldn’t wish that kind of life on any woman.

As he was wheeled into the operating room, he looked up at the surgical team and smiled. “Do your magic. I plan on walking out of this hospital.”

The surgeon nodded, his eyes serious over the surgical mask he wore. He tilted his head toward the anesthesiologist and a mask was pressed to Caesar’s face.

Within seconds, his world went black.

Hours, maybe days
later, he struggled to wake, a voice calling his name, nagging him to open his eyes. “Can’t a guy get a nap around here?” he grumbled.

“Sure, after you prove you’re alive and well. Wake up for a minute, and you can go back to sleep.”

Soft laughter warmed his insides. He opened one eye. The light shining from the overhead fixture formed a halo around the red-haired angel bending over him. His other eye gladly opened. “Ah,
mi amor
.” He smiled up at Erin. “What are you doing in the operating room?”

“I’m not in the operating room.” She still wore the same clothes as the flight from Bagram and she had dark circles beneath her eyes. “You’re in recovery.”

He stared up at the ceiling, which meant he was lying on his back. “I take it they got the last piece of shrapnel?”

“They did.” She held up a small, clear plastic vial with a tiny metal shard inside. “They saved it for you. A souvenir of your mission.”

“Fuck the souvenir.” He pushed up on his elbows and glanced down at his feet.

“Go ahead. Move them.” Eyebrows raised, she grinned.

He concentrated on his toes first, his brain sending a message to his right foot to wiggle them. His right toes wiggled.

A huge weight lifted from his shoulders and he lay back, laughing. “Thank God.”

“The doc said you might have a little swelling that could interfere with your spinal cord and may cause some temporary paralysis, but he predicts a full recovery.”

“How long? Days, weeks, or months of therapy?”

“Days.” She waved toward his legs. “Try moving your leg.”

He bent his knee, the effort harder than usual, but he could perform the action.

“You’re still suffering the effects of the anesthetics and pain meds. When they’ve worn off and you’re rested, you’ll be able to get out of bed and move around with assistance.”

He let his knee straighten and he stared up at the ceiling, grinning.

“Thought you might be happy about that,” Erin said.

“I’ll be even happier when I’m standing on my own two feet, holding you in my arms.”

A frown wrinkled her brow and she shook her head. “I told you, that isn’t likely to happen again.”

He eased up on his elbows again. “The standing or the holding?”

“The standing, yes. Holding?” Her cheeks flushed with color. “Not happening. I promised coffee. Nothing else.”

“
Bella dama.
You present a challenge.”

Her lips firmed. “I’m not a game or a conquest.”

“No game,
mi amor.
But a challenge, nonetheless.”

“I’m leaving now.”

“How soon until you have to be back at Bagram?”

“I’m staying for the next three days. They’re short-handed in the ICU, and I’ll be helping out on the nightshift.”

“Good. We’re on for coffee tomorrow morning when you get off duty.”

She narrowed her gaze. “Only if you can get up on your own by then. I wouldn’t push it. Talk to the doctor when he stops by and see if he’s comfortable with you moving around so soon after surgery.”

“I’m feeling better already.” He started to swing his legs over the side of the bed.

“Seriously?” She laid a hand on his shoulder. “If I have to, I’ll have them sedate you. You have to give yourself time to recover. Surgery always entails a bit of inflammation and swelling. And you don’t want to pull out the stitches.”