There weren't any words to solace the pain Peter had been through. He squirmed around to a position where he could pull Peter's body against his own, wrapping both arms and one leg around his lover. He rained gentle kisses down the side of Peter's face.
Early June
One of Division P's finders, a Navy pilot named Cameron Bradshaw, had been critically injured in a motorcycle accident. Danny Valentine had been to the hospital to check on his status. Thankfully, the man appeared to be reasonably stable, even if he was in the ICU. Still, Danny worried, something about the accident didn't feel right. Bradshaw had been tapped for a potential assignment from Division P for Naval Intelligence, but then the assignment had been put on hold.
Danny had called the hospital this morning to make sure Bradshaw was still improving. Apparently so, since the man had been moved from ICU to a standard room.
It was always a dicey call on whether Division P should interfere with injuries not incurred during an assignment. Peter, Stephen, and himself had gone a couple of rounds with Bottman and the other powers that be on where the dividing line should be drawn. For now, it appeared that Bradshaw was being adequately cared for by the civilian hospital.
***
Jennifer opened the door to the workout room. Time to go meet "Thor" and butt heads some more. One side of the room was all equipment: treadmills, ellipticals, and weight machines; the other side was mats. Valentine was sitting on a weight bench, waiting for her. He was dressed in a T-shirt and sweat pants, no shoes. She was so not in the mood for this. The morning had been a grueling episode in mental focus and she had done badly. Her head hurt and she was in an incredibly pissy mood.
"You ready for some basic self-defense?" he asked.
"No." Hey, at least she was being honest.
"Mmm. Well, tough. Take off your shoes. Stand on the mat. I'm going to grab you. I want to see what your response is. Then we'll talk defense strategies." He waited until she had taken off her shoes and was standing in front him, then he reached out and grabbed her wrist. Jesus, the man's hand went around the entirety of her wrist and then some. "Try to get away," he said, grabbing her hair. God that sounded like a sarcastic challenge. Fuck this shit.
Jennifer smashed her elbow across his face, drove her fist into his solar plexus and boosted him off his feet with her hip, hurling him to the floor. When he hit, he lay still, fighting for breath, and bleeding profusely from his nose. She stood immobile in pure fury for about three seconds, until it dawned on her that she had hurt him. Oh God, her day just kept getting better and better.
There was a stack of towels by the door and she hurriedly grabbed a couple, dropping beside him and trying to stop the bleeding.
"I'm… shit… I'm sorry… I just meant to make a point. I didn't mean to really hurt you."
Valentine's eyes were tearing. His hand came up and over hers, pressing the towel to his face at a different angle. "God, it hurts," he mumbled.
"Somebody told me there was a clinic and a really good healer guy. Can you walk? Or should I go get somebody?"
"I can walk… I think," he replied.
She helped him to his feet, and guided him toward the door. His steps were unsteady. Damn, she'd made a mess of things.
It took a couple of minutes to walk to the clinic.
There was that slender man with sharp features wearing scrubs there. He was talking to a woman she didn't recognize. What the hell was the guy's name? Jennifer remembered being introduced to him sometime in the past few weeks. His eyes widened when he saw Valentine, blood splattered down the front of his shirt, blood soaked towel held to his face.
"Danny! Shit, what happened?" the man demanded.
He took over for Jennifer and guided Valentine to an exam table, hastily grabbing gloves and gauze and another towel. "Okay, easy, just lie back and let me get the bleeding stopped."
Valentine lay down and the
Early June
One of Division P's finders, a Navy pilot named Cameron Bradshaw, had been critically injured in a motorcycle accident. Danny Valentine had been to the hospital to check on his status. Thankfully, the man appeared to be reasonably stable, even if he was in the ICU. Still, Danny worried, something about the accident didn't feel right. Bradshaw had been tapped for a potential assignment from Division P for Naval Intelligence, but then the assignment had been put on hold.
Danny had called the hospital this morning to make sure Bradshaw was still improving. Apparently so, since the man had been moved from ICU to a standard room.
It was always a dicey call on whether Division P should interfere with injuries not incurred during an assignment. Peter, Stephen, and himself had gone a couple of rounds with Bottman and the other powers that be on where the dividing line should be drawn. For now, it appeared that Bradshaw was being adequately cared for by the civilian hospital.
***
Jennifer opened the door to the workout room. Time to go meet "Thor" and butt heads some more. One side of the room was all equipment: treadmills, ellipticals, and weight machines; the other side was mats. Valentine was sitting on a weight bench, waiting for her. He was dressed in a T-shirt and sweat pants, no shoes. She was so not in the mood for this. The morning had been a grueling episode in mental focus and she had done badly. Her head hurt and she was in an incredibly pissy mood.
"You ready for some basic self-defense?" he asked.
"No." Hey, at least she was being honest.
"Mmm. Well, tough. Take off your shoes. Stand on the mat. I'm going to grab you. I want to see what your response is. Then we'll talk defense strategies." He waited until she had taken off her shoes and was standing in front him, then he reached out and grabbed her wrist. Jesus, the man's hand went around the entirety of her wrist and then some. "Try to get away," he said, grabbing her hair. God that sounded like a sarcastic challenge. Fuck this shit.
Jennifer smashed her elbow across his face, drove her fist into his solar plexus and boosted him off his feet with her hip, hurling him to the floor. When he hit, he lay still, fighting for breath, and bleeding profusely from his nose. She stood immobile in pure fury for about three seconds, until it dawned on her that she had hurt him. Oh God, her day just kept getting better and better.
There was a stack of towels by the door and she hurriedly grabbed a couple, dropping beside him and trying to stop the bleeding.
"I'm… shit… I'm sorry… I just meant to make a point. I didn't mean to really hurt you."
Valentine's eyes were tearing. His hand came up and over hers, pressing the towel to his face at a different angle. "God, it hurts," he mumbled.
"Somebody told me there was a clinic and a really good healer guy. Can you walk? Or should I go get somebody?"
"I can walk… I think," he replied.
She helped him to his feet, and guided him toward the door. His steps were unsteady. Damn, she'd made a mess of things.
It took a couple of minutes to walk to the clinic.
There was that slender man with sharp features wearing scrubs there. He was talking to a woman she didn't recognize. What the hell was the guy's name? Jennifer remembered being introduced to him sometime in the past few weeks. His eyes widened when he saw Valentine, blood splattered down the front of his shirt, blood soaked towel held to his face.
"Danny! Shit, what happened?" the man demanded.
He took over for Jennifer and guided Valentine to an exam table, hastily grabbing gloves and gauze and another towel. "Okay, easy, just lie back and let me get the bleeding stopped."
Valentine lay down and the
Similar Books
Collision of The Heart
Laurie Alice Eakes
Who Owns Kelly Paddik
Beth Goobie
Monochrome
H.M. Jones
No Daughter of the South
Cynthia Webb
House of Steel
Raen Smith
With Baited Breath
Lorraine Bartlett
Redaction: Extinction Level Event (Part I)
Linda Andrews
Out of Place: A Memoir
Edward W. Said
How Cassie Got Her Grind Back
Heather Rainier
Run to Me
Christy Reece