My Baby, My Love

“Major Inglewood? I’m Agent Wickowski. We met—”

“I remember. You’re FBI, investigating the bank robbery.”

“That’s correct. The police called me this morning to tell me what had transpired.”

“What exactly did transpire, Agent Wickowski?”

The man hurried to catch up as Noah strode toward Sydney’s door without waiting for an answer. “Major—”

“How did anyone get past the police officer?”

A flush crept up his neck. “There was a miscommunication between our office and the police department. Apparently it was…er…necessary to pull the officer last night. The police felt since we’d already taken her statement…”

Noah eyed him coldly, stopping the words in the man’s throat. “She’s the only eyewitness to what happened.”

“Yes, but her whereabouts weren’t reported. They didn’t think—”

“Obviously.”

The uniformed officer stepped forward to block the door at Noah’s approach.

“Do I go through him, or around him?” Noah asked mildly.

The agent inclined his head and the uniformed man stepped away with a tight look. Noah would have welcomed a scuffle, if only to work off some of the tension humming through his body.

Sydney perched on the edge of the bed, the shapeless hospital gown drooping off one shoulder. Her hair hung in lank strands past her shoulders, surrounding a face pale enough for Halloween. Her china-blue eyes were large as saucers. But she appeared extraordinarily calm for someone who’d just been attacked. Her expression brightened instantly when she saw him.

“Sorry, Sydney,” he told her without preamble. “Are you okay?”

She gave a small nod. He noted the new bruises and his jaw set.

“Want to leave?”

In answer, she tried to scoot off the bed. He caught her before she pitched forward, tangled in the sheet. “Easy. I’ve got you.”

His arm came to rest across her chest, supporting the lush curve of one breast. Sydney was a tall, shapely woman. How shapely, he shouldn’t be noticing.

“Okay?”

She nodded.

“You’re not thinking of taking her out of here?” Wickowski demanded.

“Thinking, no. I am taking her out of here.”

“Look, Major—”

“No, Wickowski, you look. She was almost killed. I assume the guy wasn’t caught?”

His ruddy cheeks grew ruddier.

Sydney laid a hand against Noah’s chest. “Please.” Her voice was low and hoarse. “Fight later. I’d like to leave now.”

“Right away,” he agreed.

“I could hold her as a material witness,” Wickowski threatened.

“You can try.” Noah met the agent’s anger with his own. They’d nearly let her be killed!

Wickowski looked away first.

More people crowded into the room, blocking their path to the door. A rotund, pinch-faced woman with faded red hair stepped forward importantly. “Major Inglewood, I’m Jennifer Comsilt. We spoke on the telephone. This is Dr. Messinger.”

Jennifer Comsilt pushed at a prim pair of glasses sitting on her nose while the doctor fussed with a stethoscope hanging around his neck. Noah dismissed them with a glance.

“I’d like to use the bathroom,” Sydney whispered.

“You want to help her, Ms. Comsilt?”

“Oh.” The supervisor gazed frantically past him as if looking for someone else. “Er…ah, yes. Of course.” Obviously, she wasn’t used to making personal contact with the patients.

“I can manage,” Sydney told him.

He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I don’t doubt it for a minute, but I think getting dressed will be easier with some help, don’t you? Here.” He thrust the bundle of clothing into Mrs. Comsilt’s free hand. “These won’t be a great fit, but they’re the best I could come up with on such short notice.”

“Not mine?” Sydney asked in a whispery voice.

“Mine, I’m afraid. I didn’t get to your place last night.”

She paused, surveying him from head to toe. A spark of amusement glinted in her eyes. “Should be a great fit.”

Noah found himself smiling wryly. “The jogging shorts have a drawstring,” he offered.

“Uh-huh.”

“Don’t worry. The T-shirt will probably cover them completely.”

“No doubt.”

Her easy acceptance surprised him. He expected Sydney to be weak and needy. Her unexpected grit kept amazing him.

Messinger stepped forward. “Just a moment. Mrs. Inglewood suffered a trauma to her throat this morning.” Messinger’s grating voice had a nasal whine. “While I don’t believe any permanent harm was done, I’d like a specialist to have a look at her.”

“I’ll see to it. We’re leaving in five minutes. You want to get the release forms?”

“Mr. Inglewood, this hospital cannot be responsible—”

“Save it, Doctor. I am not in the mood. We’ll need the release papers right away or we’re leaving without signing them.”