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Chapter Eight
“What the… Son of a…”
Foster chuckled as he walked down the hallway, Mac’s hand in his as Chase’s voice echoed through the corridor, the expletives impossible to miss. It had been three hours since they’d arrived at the hospital, and they’d finally been given the green light to see Zain and Chase.
Atticus had shown up shortly after Foster had led Mac through the emergency doors, blowing into the place like the cyclone rattling the building. Atticus had marched into the exam room, eyes wary. Back straight. He hadn’t even needed to yell — he’d just glared at the intern until the man had all but bolted from the room.
Mac had talked her father off the ledge, but he’d given Foster a firm look that had clearly expressed his sentiment. Either Foster guarded Mac’s life like an order handed down from God, or Atticus would make Foster’s life a living hell.
Not that Foster needed the extra motivation. Getting tossed off the Bronco after handing Chase to Kash — then having to swim along with the current in order to catch the vehicle before it disappeared for good — had made Foster acutely aware of how much he’d come to care about Mac. How this was more than just lust with a side of loneliness.
That this was the start of the rest of his life.
Atticus had been halfway through his laundry list of questions when he’d been called out on another rescue. He’d begrudgingly left when Mac had all but tossed him out of the room, but not before giving Foster another stare down.
Mackenzie cringed at the next colorful quip echoing through the hallway. “Chase sounds… alert.”
Foster laughed again, some of his earlier tension easing. All that fear that this would be a repeat of his last encounter in a hospital, with some of his buddies not making it out alive. And with Rhett still lying in a bed — his mind lost to the trauma as they all waited to see if he’d ever come back to them — Foster knew things could still turn ugly. Especially with Greer in surgery. “Whoever said doctors were the worst patients never treated a pararescue medic. Though, that’s largely because Chase is hands down the toughest son of a bitch I’ve ever met. A few years back, he broke three ribs trying to rappel down this insane cliff to a wounded SEAL. I couldn’t get remotely close to pick either of them up or provide any kind of support. Chase still managed to drag the guy back up and carry him five miles to the extraction point.”
“That explains a lot.”
“Just be prepared for him to use extreme tactics in an effort to get us to spring him loose.”
“Do I look like the kind of person who falls for puppy dog eyes or blackmail?”
“I guess it depends on who’s involved.”
He stopped at the doorway, giving her a once-over. He’d snagged some of the spare clothes he’d had stashed in his truck and given her one of his sweatshirts to go with the scrubs the hospital had provided. And damn if she didn’t look like sin wearing it. “Are you sure you’re okay? That doctor barely examined you.”
Mac shook her head. “That’s because I’m fine. Though, I’m not sure why you expected him to hang around when you just stood there, growling.”
“I wasn’t growling. I was letting him know I wasn’t impressed with his lack of enthusiasm. How am I supposed to be sure your head’s not going to explode later? Or that the gash across your ribs won’t get infected?”
“It’s a minor bump, and definitely not the first I’ve ever had. And he gave me more antibiotic cream. Though, it’s hardly a gash.” She pointed to his forehead. “That’s a gash. This is just a scratch.”
“Really sweetheart? Because if it was any larger, we’d have to give it a name.”
A hint of blush crept into her cheeks. What he hoped was a reaction to him using the endearment, again, and not because she was suddenly spiking a fever. Another symptom that reckless intern had obviously missed.
Mac snapped her fingers in front of his face, frowning. “I don’t think my state of mind is the one we need to worry about. How many fingers?”
Foster cupped her hand and held it against his chest, hoping she didn’t notice how the simple touch sped up his heart until it was pounding against her palm. “Three. And I was just thinking.”
“About how you lied? Because I swear that other doctor didn’t even shine a light in your eyes to see if you’d been compromised.”
“That’s because she knew I was fine.”
“Or because you simply stood there, giving her your death glare until she caved and left.”
“My death glare?”
“Don’t play dumb. I’ve been watching, and you all have it. Chase gives it to rescue victims if they try to make the situation more dangerous. Kash and Zain are less discriminating and flash it at anyone they deem as a threat.”
She’d been watching?
Foster leaned in, loving how her breath caught as her mouth twitched at the corner. “And when do I give this mysterious death glare?”
“When someone stands between you and your team. Which is why you gave it to both those doctors. You didn’t want either of them to delay this reunion.”