Someone raised her head. She felt cold water on her lips and opened her mouth. She choked, then slowed down. She drank and drank until finally the water was dribbling down her chin.
'Now can you talk to me?'
'The light,' she whispered. 'Please, the light.'
The same woman's voice said, 'It must be hurting her.'
The light was gone in the next instant and it was now shadowy and dim. She sighed with relief. 'That's better. Where's Dillon?'
'I'm right here. You scared me out of a good year at the gym. We were both doing just fine until you had the nerve to pass out on me.'
'I didn't mean to do that. It was weak and unnecessary.
I'm sorry. Does my health coverage take care of the paramedics and the emergency room?'
'I doubt it. I think it will come out of your pay. Now, here's Dr. Breaker. He got to your house just as the paramedics were pulling out, claims he was speeding to get there. Turns out he has admitting privileges here at Washington Memorial.'
'Your voice made me quiver-all dark and soft, like falling into a deep, deep well. If I were a criminal, I'd say anything you wanted to keep you talking to me like that. It's a wonderful voice. Plummy-that's how a writer would describe your voice.'
'Thank you. I think.'
'Agent Sherlock. I'm Dr. Breaker.'
He shined a penlight in her eyes, felt the bumps on her head, and said over his shoulder to Dillon, 'She's not going to need any stitches, just some of my magic tape. Scalp wounds tend to really bleed.'
'They bleed like stink.'
'Yes, that's right. Interesting way of saying it.'
'It's what the man said. And he said it in a southern way. He drawled out stink into two syllables.'
She'd already told him that, but he said, 'That's good, Sherlock. Anything else?'
'Not just yet, Savich. Hold off a bit. Let me clean her up, then you can talk her ear off.' He cleared his throat. 'She wasn't raped, was she?'
'No, I wasn't. I'm not dead, Dr. Breaker. You can speak to me.'
'Well, you see, Agent, I owe everything to Savich here and nothing at all to you. If he wants me to report to him, he's got it.'
'I report to him. You report to him. Soon the president will report to him. Maybe that's not such a bad idea. My head hurts.'
'I'll just bet it does. Lie still now. When you first came in, we did a CT scan. Not to worry, it was normal. We always do a CT scan when there's a head injury, to check for evidence of bleeding. You didn't have any. What happened to your arm? What's this sling for?'
'A knife wound,' Savich said. 'It's nearly well now. Happened a couple of weeks ago.'
'Why don't you let her heal before you send her into the arena with the monsters again?'
She laughed. There was nothing else to do.
The next time she heard anything, it was a strange man speaking.
'When you roared out of the club like a bat out of its belfry, I thought Sally was going to have Marvin tackle you. You scared us, Dillon. This is Sherlock?'
'Yes, that's her in all her glory.'
'She looks like a little mummy only her skin isn't leather.'
'Thanks,' Lacey said, not opening her eyes. She realized then that there was a huge bandage over the cut in her scalp. She raised her hand to touch it, but to her disgust, she didn't have the strength. Dr. Breaker was right. It wasn't fair that she had to be hurt again before she'd healed completely from the other time. Her hand fell, only again Dillon caught it and laid it gently at her side.
'You alive, Sherlock?'
'Yes, thank you. I'm tired of this, sir. At least last time in that Boston hospital I was sitting up the whole time.'
'Don't whine. You'll live.'
'She calls you 'sir'? My God, Dillon, do you require that all your people call you sir?'
'No, just the women. It makes me feel powerful.'
'He's lying,' she said, cracking open her eyes. To her relief, the light in the room was dim. 'He takes all the women to the gym and stomps them into the floor. The 'sir' stuff is my idea. I hope it makes him feel responsible, and guilty.'
'I don't feel guilty. I walked you home. You want me to believe that I should have taken you inside? Checked all your closets and looked under the bed? Well, maybe from now on I will. You attract trouble, Sherlock, too much of it.' But he sounded guilty, really guilty. She wanted to tell him not to be ridiculous, but he said quickly, 'This is Special Agent James Quinlan. We go way back together.'
'You make it sound like we're nearly to retirement, Dillon. Hi, Ms. Sherlock.' He took her hand in his.
'You call him Dillon too.' His hand was strong, and there were calluses on his thumbs. She'd seen a web of scars on Dillon's fingers and hands: fine, pale white scars. He'd told her he whittled. Whittled what?
'Yeah, I always thought Savich sounded too tough, too macho, so to spare my manhood I never called him that. Besides, I'm tougher than he is. Hey, what's in a name?' 'He was with you at that place called the Cove?' 'Nan, he just came in on the deal when most of the fun was over.'
'That's a lie. I saved Sally.'
'That's true, he did help. A little bit. Dillon's always there to back me up.'
She said, 'You're Sally's husband?' 'Yes, she's mine, the skinny little wench. I've got to tell you, Agent Sherlock, I don't like any of this. You're a target and we've got to find out why.'
'None of us likes it, Quinlan,' Savich said. 'Don't act proprietary. She's not in your unit. I will get to the bottom of this. Hey, Sherlock, you do look like a mummy. You want some more water before I start grilling you again? I'll use my special voice. Quinlan's not bad at it either, only not as plummy.'
Neither man said anything until she'd drunk her fill. Then Quinlan laughed when Savich said, 'Having you suck on a straw is better than trying to balance you on the edge of the cup. You don't drool so much.'
'Just because you tried to dump the entire glass of water down my throat that first time-oh dear, I'm beginning to feel mean again, sir.'
Quinlan said, 'Not just yet, Agent Sherlock. Er, did you know that Sally and I were married a year last month-in October? Dillon here found us the wedding date and the church.'
'Why did he do that?'
'Well, I was kind of out of it at the time and Sally was so worried about me that she didn't even think about marrying me. So Dillon had to take care of it.'
'What he means to say is that he had a bullet in his heart and couldn't do much but press more morphine into his vein.
As for Sally, she probably only agreed to marry him because she felt sorry for him.'
She smiled at that, and thankfully, it didn't hurt. 'Oh goodness. Have I gotten into the wrong career?'
'You're off to a good start,' Quinlan said. 'Wounded twice and you've been out of training only what? A month? Hey, don't worry. I've made it to thirty-four, same as Savich here.'
They heard voices outside. Quinlan raised an eyebrow and said, 'I think my whirlwind of a wife has just blown in. The guard you've got out there doesn't stand a chance, Dillon.'
'No indeed,' said a very pretty young woman about La-cey's own age as she came into the room. She had dusty blond hair, clasped with barrettes behind her ears, and blue eyes that looked soft and tender, and had seen too much. She was slender and looked very small next to the two men. She didn't, however, look like a skinny little wench. 'Don't blame Agent Crammer. He knows me. He helped me barbecue those half a dozen corn on the cob last month, remember, James?'
'Our venture into vegetarian barbecuing,' James Quinlan said with disgust and poked Savich's arm. 'Just for you I had to barbecue corn on the cob. I lost more of my manhood that day.'
'Your manhood seems to be a lot in question lately,' Savich said. 'Hey, Sally, this is Sherlock. She's the one who needed your decorating help until she had it done herself. She just called up one of those expensive designers
