Читать книгу The Target - Kay David - Страница 9

THE DOCTORS TOLD HER he might not live.

Describing Quinn’s wounds in detail, they explained to Hannah how badly he’d been hurt. His right leg had been violently broken and a piece of metal had pierced his chest. The burns weren’t too bad, but the blast injuries were severe. His hearing would probably return, then again, it might not—they weren’t sure at this point.

For a week, she didn’t leave the hospital. The nurses would occasionally try to get her to go home, but most of the time they left her alone, unwilling to face the battle she always put up and usually won. In the waiting room outside the ICU, she’d fall asleep sitting up on one of the chairs and have nightmares about the two children who’d died. The images haunted her and she suspected they always would.

Disregarding their own safety, she and Bobby and Mark had rushed in to pull out Quinn while Tony’s team had searched the rubble for the children. Trying to stem the blood flowing from Quinn’s chest, she’d looked up in time to catch a glimpse of LaCroix running out of the now-flaming building, a limp form cradled in his arms, another tech behind him carrying an identical burden. Bobby had followed her stare. When their eyes met a second later, his had been full of tears that spilled out and made two dark paths down his dust-covered cheeks. Hannah had wanted to scream at the heavens and curse, but instead she’d held her sobs inside and turned her attention back to Quinn. But every time she closed her eyes, she saw those babies again.

In the end, she left the hospital for them.

Hannah’s mother had told her she should go to the double funeral, and because Barbara Crosby was usually right about things like this, Hannah went, stopping at home first to dress. It felt strange to walk inside her house and take a shower and put on a suit. She went through the motions like a zombie, eating the hot lunch her mother forced on her, then heading for the service.

The church was two streets over from the day-care center. Hannah drove by the devastation with her eyes averted, finally locating a parking spot down the next block. After turning the engine off, she sat quietly and tried to gather her composure, breathing deeply and counting backward from ten. It was a trick she’d taught herself years ago and it usually worked. But not this time. She hadn’t even whispered “eight” when a couple walked by, obviously on their way to the service. The woman was already dabbing her eyes and the man had his arm around her protectively, his expression fierce with an angry grief.

If her mother hadn’t been waiting at home, Hannah would have fled.

Instead she closed her eyes and finished counting. Entering the church a few minutes later, she took a seat and then lifted her gaze. The first thing she saw, at the front of the church, were the two tiny caskets. All at once, she wished even more desperately that she’d escaped when she’d had the chance.

Now it was too late.

Hemmed in by more than just the other mourners and a palpable grief, Hannah was trapped by her own emotions. There was nothing in life she wanted more than children of her own. Put in the place of the desperately grieving mother, Hannah thought she might have simply taken out her service revolver and ended her agony.

A wave of rising murmurs signified the entrance of the family. Hannah’s initial view was blocked by others in the pew, but she could feel the heartache surging from the family members now moving down the aisle.

She got her first glimpse of them when they sat down. Like most of the mourners, they were dressed totally in black. They filled two pews and part of a third, the grandmother in the front row. Hannah wanted to close her eyes against the sight. The poor woman had aged ten years. Tears streaming down her face, she slumped against the two young men, grandsons, maybe, who sat on either side of her. Beside those three, a mute, shell-shocked couple, the children’s parents, waited in silence for the service to begin.

She’d learned the details of their lives from Bobby. Beverly Williams, the mother, worked the second shift as a printer’s assistant at the Times-Picayune. The father, Aloysius, ran a bakery, his hours starting as hers ended. The grandmother, a shampoo assistant at a local hairdresser, helped out by taking the children to the day care before going to work herself. They ate dinner together in the evenings before the torturous schedule started over again the next day.

Hannah could only wonder at the agony they must be experiencing. The Williamses wore the stunned expressions of people who’d been through an explosion themselves, their eyes blank, their faces empty. Their world was gone.

The service began with a woman stepping up to the dais behind the coffins. Quietly dignified and impeccably groomed in a spotless suit, she introduced herself as the mistress of the ceremony and welcomed everyone to the homecoming of the two children. After that, a young man seated at the piano began to play. A soft melody filled the church and Hannah instantly recognized “Amazing Grace.” But to her ears, the people around her seemed to be struggling to sing, their voices straining to maintain the song’s hopeful message.

She couldn’t even try. Instead she bent her head and stared at her shaking hands. One minute, those babies had been playing a game of hide-and-seek, and the next minute, they were gone. All the hopes, all the dreams, all the plans for the future that this family had for them…destroyed in one terrible moment. A moment designed by a madman.

She lifted her eyes to the caskets once more, where their shape shifted and grew. The white changed to mahogany, and instead of the Williams family sitting in the front pew, she saw herself.

Quinn’s death or theirs? Who had decided? The minute she formed the question, Hannah knew the answer. There was no plan to any of this, no fairness, no justice. Those children died, but it could have just as easily been Quinn. Or her. Life offered no guarantees. All you could do was go out there, pray for help, then give it your best. Nothing else was under your control.

Hannah covered her eyes and fought her emotions. If she didn’t begin to seek the things she held so dear—a family, children, a man to love—they weren’t ever going to be hers. Things like that didn’t simply arrive on your doorstep. They didn’t come to you of their own accord. You made them happen.

Or you didn’t. It was up to no one else.

Lost in thought, Hannah didn’t realize the service was over until the pew began to empty. A few minutes later, she found herself outside, standing on the fringe of the grief-filled crowd now moving en masse toward a white-striped canopy. The cemetery shared the church grounds, she saw suddenly, and they were heading for the grave sites. She stopped, turned and walked against the flow. She couldn’t handle any more. No one seemed to even notice; they continued toward the graves, moving around her like water surging past an island. She kept her composure until she reached the car, and then she broke down completely.

Back at the hospital, she longed to talk to the still figure beneath the covers, but she ended up saying nothing about the funeral. The following week, Quinn was moved into a private room. Staying beside him during the day, but sleeping in her own bed at night, Hannah walked a thin line of anxiety, torn between guilt and love. She knew she should leave Quinn—she needed to move on—but something she couldn’t deny held her in place. Besides, he had no one else. She had her mother, but Quinn had already lost both his parents, and like Hannah, he’d been an only child. Hannah couldn’t abandon him.

Quinn remained remote; drugged for the pain and deaf to all sounds.

She had no idea if he knew she was there.

HE KNEW SHE WAS THERE.

But little else registered. The days and nights merged together, and Quinn marked the passing of time by the level of his agony. His consciousness was a transitory thing, the pain a wave that pulled him into alertness, then sent him tumbling back out again. When he could think, he was sure he was going to die; when he couldn’t, all he did was wish he would. He knew he had failed and the children had been killed. He slept as much to escape that fact as anything else.

After a while—minutes, hours, days—he wasn’t sure, his awareness began to return. Slowly at first, then more quickly, images and sensations came to him. He smelled the smoke and saw a tiny shoe, he heard a woman’s grief-filled scream and felt the heat. His body would eventually recover, but the grief he felt for the children was a wound that would never heal.

A MONTH AFTER THE BOMBING, Quinn was moved to a rehabilitation hospital.

Hannah continued to come every day. Always laden with messages from the other team members, she kept him abreast of their work and everything that continued to happen in the real world, including the fact that Bill Ford had left and appointed Bobby Justice as the new team leader. Quinn acknowledged the news with a nod and nothing more. Hannah had never learned of Quinn’s promotion, but what did it matter now? He concentrated on her, instead. Beneath the mundane conversations, Quinn had begun to sense a growing withdrawal. Hannah was pulling away from him, and he suspected he knew why.

The team had suffered losses before this, but not since Hannah had joined. Ever since the funeral, she’d been quiet and subdued. She was grieving for the children, just as he was, and in true Hannah fashion had decided to keep her feelings to herself. He’d reached the point where he simply tried not to think about them at all. It wasn’t a healthy way to deal with the situation, but it was the only way he could cope. The children stayed alive in his nightmares and that was more than enough for him.

But a week later, he decided the time had come for them both to confront the issue. Their emotions about the incident would only grow and eventually consume them if they didn’t bring everything into the open.

He was reaching for the phone to call her when his doctor entered. Six foot plus and built like a linebacker, Jorge Barroso was the best orthopedic surgeon New Orleans had ever seen. Born in Brazil, he looked as if he’d be more at home on a soccer field than in an operating room, but his hands were delicate and slight. They’d saved Quinn’s life.

Dr. Barroso asked his usual questions, then made notes on Quinn’s chart. After a few minutes he tossed the clipboard down and examined Quinn’s battered body. When he finished, he pursed his lips. “I think it’s almost time to kick you out of here, McNichol.”

“Sounds great. I’m ready.”

“No, you’re not,” the doctor said. “But we need the bed.” He grinned at his own joke, then his demeanor went serious. “You still planning on going to St. Martin?”

Quinn’s complete recovery would take months and they’d already discussed the fact that he needed somewhere quiet to recuperate. He’d decided that place was where he’d spent his childhood. An hour from New Orleans, St. Martin was a small town, up the river from where he still owned property that had been in his family forever. On temporary medical leave, he could retreat to the bayou and exercise until he dropped. Then Barroso would examine him again and reinstate him. Or at least that was the plan.

“Absolutely. In fact, I’ve already talked to the physical therapist who lives there,” Quinn said. “He sounds pretty good.”

“He’ll be able to help you quite a bit.” The doctor’s eyes met Quinn’s, his brown gaze as direct as his words. “But he’s not going to make you into the man you were before this, Quinn. He’s not a miracle worker.”

They’d discussed this before, too. Quinn tensed. “I’m going to return to the team. I’m going to recover.”

“That’s certainly a possibility. But you and I both know there’s another one. You might not be able to work again. Don’t pretend that chance doesn’t exist, my friend.”

“That’s not going to happen.” Quinn’s voice was level. “I won’t let it. If I work hard enough, I’ll be—”

“You’ll be fine,” the doctor interrupted smoothly. “But you might be fine while having a different career.” He reached across the bed and tapped Quinn’s leg. “Your injuries were very severe. Your recovery, complete or otherwise, is not going to happen overnight. I don’t want to see you in here again because you’ve hurt yourself trying to do something you can’t.”

“Can’t means won’t, Doc.” Quinn paused. “I will return to my team.”

The doctor sighed then nodded, picking up the clipboard to make a final note. “I guess you can tell your lady friend you’ll be all hers after next week.” He shook his head and walked to the door. “Qué mala suerte! May God be with her…”

Quinn chuckled at the suave doctor’s drama, but when the door closed and he thought about what was ahead, his laughter died. He had to come back to the team. His plans did not include staying at home and letting Hannah support him. Quinn didn’t care what the doctor said—there was no other option.

His daily routine of meds and therapy began shortly after that, and he didn’t return to his room until after lunch. Hannah’s chair was still empty.

At six that evening she still hadn’t arrived. He was trying to decide if he should call her when the door to his room opened. Assuming it was her, he smiled in anticipation.

Mark Baker and two more techs stepped inside instead.

“Hey, guys…” Quinn struggled to get up, but they all waved him down, each coming closer to shake his hand and say hello. Since his hearing had returned, the whole team had been in at one time or another, but surprisingly, Baker had been his most frequent visitor. They’d developed an uneasy friendship, partially, Quinn surmised, because he was now off the team, at least temporarily. His expertise and experience no longer posed a threat to the young tech.

Quinn watched the men situate themselves around the room, then he noticed they all looked tired and dirty. They’d obviously been on a call, but the usual, boisterous aftermath that followed a situation was missing.

“You guys been out?”

Mark sat down in the nearest chair and answered Quinn’s question with a nod. “Yeah—some kids over on Toulouse got their school computers cranked up and learned how to build pipe bombs. They planted five of them in and around the mailboxes in their neighborhood and Metro called us. We went crazy trying to retrieve the damn things before somebody found one and blew off their freaking hand.”

Quinn shook his head in commiseration as the other techs added their comments about what had happened. He listened, but all Quinn could really think about was Hannah. Where was she? Did her absence have anything to do with the men’s subdued attitudes?

When the conversation lulled, he spoke casually. “Hannah go out on this?”

They took too long to answer. A warning bell sounded inside Quinn’s head.

“She was there.” Mark shot a look toward one of the other men and a silent communication took place. Quinn had sent enough signals like that himself to know something was up.

“What happened?” he asked. “Is she hurt?”

“She’s fine,” Mark said quickly. “Just fine. But we had a little problem….”

“What kind of little problem?”

Mark glanced again at the others.

“Just tell me what happened, dammit.” Still in his bed, Quinn managed to make the younger man jump.

“She dropped one of the pipe bombs,” Mark blurted out. “But she’s okay—she’s okay, I swear.”

Quinn’s heart stopped for a single moment, then it restarted, the rhythm faster than it should have been.

“I take it she wasn’t holding it at the time?”

Mark shook his head. “No, no… The Andros had it.”

The men looked at each other uneasily. They were a team, and teams had rules, one of which stated you supported the other members, regardless. But this was different. Quinn had to know more, whether they wanted to tell him or not. He swung his legs to the edge of the bed, but as he stood, a quick knock on the door startled them all. It opened and Bobby was poised on the threshold, his expression grim, his demeanor unhappy. The men took one look and started edging past their boss, their muted goodbyes ignored by Quinn and Bobby both.

With the room empty except for them, Quinn stared at the other man, his mouth suddenly dry. Obviously there was more to the story than Mark had revealed. “What is it?” he asked without preamble.

“Sit down,” Bobby said, pointing to the bed. “We gotta talk.”

HANNAH SAT IN THE DESERTED bullpen, her head on her desk, her eyes closed. She was completely alone and the lights were off because everyone else had gone home to hug their kids and make love to their spouses.

She knew that’s what they were doing because that’s what she wanted to do. Almost getting blown up tended to bring out that need in a person.

She’d made a very stupid mistake tonight, and if things had ended even slightly differently, someone would now be knocking on her mother’s door to tell her that her daughter was dead.

Hannah lifted her head and slowly banged it against the scarred and pitted wood. How could she have been so stupid? How could she have been so blind? In her time as a tech, she’d never come so close to making such a major blunder.

After the first bomb had detonated, she’d looked at the pieces and assumed the devices were all identical. X-raying the homemade disaster, she’d seen the same thing she’d seen in the initial bomb, which confirmed—or so she’d thought—her assessment. She’d explained the setup to the other techs, then sent in the Andros to pick up the sawed-off aluminum baseball bat, lying next to the mailbox.

Unfortunately two different kids had made the bombs, and the second teenager had been smarter than the first. He hadn’t inserted an ordinary fuse; he’d used negative pressure instead.

She’d misread the X ray. And then she’d mishandled the robot, her hand shaking from exhaustion. The machine had dropped the device. If the bomb had been a fused one, as she’d thought, it probably wouldn’t have mattered. But it wasn’t—the fuse was a decoy. The metal cylinder had landed on its edge and the plastic cap had flown off. The bomb had been aimed away from them, but by then it had hardly mattered.

It wasn’t the kind of mistake someone with her level of expertise should make. It wasn’t even the kind of mistake a rookie should make. One of the first things even a kid just out of bomb school knew was that each device had its own render-safe procedure. If he wanted to, Bobby could fire her and she wouldn’t blame him, either. She couldn’t believe it. What a mess…

She was too tired. Too worried. Too crazy. She’d been lucky as hell not to have injured herself or someone else on the team. She’d lost her focus.

She could have blamed tonight on the fact that she was grieving for the kids, but she would only be partially right. She was grieving—but not just for them. Tonight’s emotions—and the sorrow she’d been feeling since the funeral—were also for herself and Quinn. Their relationship was over, and the day she’d fled the cemetery she’d known that. She’d only been staying with him because she couldn’t leave. Not while he was still in the hospital. Distracted by that reality and full of sadness because of it, she’d nearly gotten in serious trouble tonight.

Dropping her head back down on the desk, Hannah closed her eyes and cursed.

“I DON’T WANT TO SIT DOWN,” Quinn said. “I want to know what’s wrong.”

“Hannah screwed up tonight,” Bobby said bluntly, falling into the chair beside the bed. “She hasn’t got her mind on her job and she damn near blew us all to kingdom come.”

Quinn sat down.

“Metro called us because the bombs were all inside or close to mailboxes. It seemed like a simple enough problem and we went straight out.” Bobby shook his head. “Hannah was on her way here but she insisted on going with us first. The other guys have been trying to take up the slack, but with you gone, too, it’s been hard.”

Quinn nodded. “Go on.”

“I intend to, but let’s get one thing straight before I do.” He waited until Quinn nodded again. “What I have to tell you never leaves this room. And I mean any of it. This is just between you and me, and if you ever tell anyone we had this discussion, I’ll call you a liar.”

“Fine, fine,” Quinn said impatiently. “Just go on—”

“Give me your word.”

“You have it, okay? I swear I’ll never tell anyone. Now, what in the hell happened?”

Bobby gave him the details the men had left out, his face etched with anger and worry. “It shouldn’t have gone down like that, Quinn.” He shook his head. “She botched it, man. Big time.”

Quinn defended her automatically. “Working the robot isn’t Hannah’s usual thing, Bobby.”

“I know that, but Sid’s out this week, too. His wife’s in the hospital with kidney stones and he’s stuck with his kids. Grandma’s on the way, but in the meantime, we had five pipe bombs to deal with. I needed all the extra hands I could use, so when Hannah said she’d help, I said fine. But she aimed that Andros right at us, man.”

They sat in silence for a moment, then Quinn spoke, his emotions in a tangle. “This isn’t good.”

“No, it’s not. It’s not good at all.”

Hobbling slowly, Quinn crossed the room to stare out the window at the parking lot. He was on the fourth floor, but the fog was so thick he couldn’t see the cars.

“This isn’t the first time she’s screwed up, Quinn.”

Something tightened inside Quinn’s chest. He spoke without moving. “What do you mean?”

“She missed a detail last week in a report for Washington on one of those church bombings last summer. I caught it, but that’s just not like Hannah. When I mentioned it to her, she got real defensive.” He hesitated, then added, “She lost some evidence the other day, too.”

Quinn turned around.

“It was just some minor stuff, but next time, who knows?” Bobby’s dark eyes were filled with concern. “The truth is, I’m worried about her, Quinn…. I’m worried for her, too. Her mind’s not on her job.”

“It’s on me.”

“That’s right.” The other man came to Quinn’s side. The light from the window glistened off his dark features. They stood together in silence and stared out at the fog.

After a while, Bobby spoke. “I was real upset when you got that promotion instead of me. I thought I was the better tech and I deserved it more. I even told myself there was some kind of racist crap going on.” He shook his head. “But right now I’d dump the damn promotion any way I could. To the first man who’d take it.”

Quinn spoke calmly, but he didn’t feel it. “Why is that?”

“Because I gotta do something I don’t want to do.”

“And that is?”

“I’m thinking of firing her, Quinn. At the very least, suspending her.”

Quinn tried to hide his shock, then gave up. He stared at Bobby in amazement. “Don’t you think that’s a little extreme? She made a mistake—we’ve all made them at some time or another. That doesn’t mean she’s not a good tech.”

Bobby ignored his comments completely. “Are you going to quit or are you coming back?”

The question was abrupt and put Quinn on guard. He’d told no one, not even Hannah, that Barroso had warned him he might not be able to return. To tell someone, to voice the words, gave credence to the option and Quinn couldn’t do that. “I plan on coming back,” he said carefully. “Absolutely.”

“Then both of you will be on the team again.”

Quinn had no idea where Bobby was going with his questions. His uneasiness grew. “Yes, but—”

“There are no buts about it. Lives are on the line, here, Quinn, and Hannah’s put them there.”

“She made a mistake, for God’s sake. A big one, yes, but she’s only human. It’s not like she dropped a pound of RDX in the middle of the bullpen—”

“And that damn well might be what happens next!” Taking a deep breath, Bobby started over, his voice softer. “Look, Quinn, the truth is she’s never going to watch you go into another building without expecting it to blow.” He held out his hands. “Put yourself in her place. Would you be able to let her go out again and not worry? Could you focus on your business and not hers?” His eyes narrowed and he shook his head. “It’s only a matter of time, Quinn, before disaster strikes again.”

Bobby didn’t know it, of course, but Quinn had already put himself there. Hannah could have ended up in the hospital instead of him and that frightened Quinn terribly. The realization had made him even more determined not to leave orphans should that happen.

But he hid all that. She needed defending. “She’s a professional,” he said. “Once I get out of here, she’ll be fine. Things will be just like they were before. We managed okay then.”

Bobby kept his expression under control, but his fingers gripped the windowsill so tightly his knuckles paled. “It’s never going to be the same, Quinn. You’ve been injured severely and that changes things. As long as she loves you, she’s going to worry, and as long as she’s doing that, her life—and everyone else’s—is in danger. If you don’t care about that—”

“You’re out of line,” Quinn warned quietly. “You know I care—”

“Maybe, but I also know how these things work….” Bobby’s eyes locked on Quinn’s, regret filling their depths. “I value both of you, Quinn. You and Hannah are the backbone of this team, but I’ve got to take some action.”

“Then suspend her if you have to, but don’t fire her.” Quinn clenched his jaw. “She worked hard to earn her position and she’s damn good at it. The team needs her.”

“They need the Hannah they had before you were injured. Not the one they have now. I was hoping you could help me fix this, but I see now that’s not going to happen.”

Bobby’s attempt at manipulation ignited Quinn’s anger. “If you expect me to do your dirty work, you can forget about it,” Quinn said. “I’m not asking her to leave. She’d hate me forever. Besides that, she doesn’t deserve to be fired. She’s an excellent analyst and you know it. You’d never be able to replace her.”

“That may be true. But I’m in charge of the team now—the whole team—and I have to make decisions that are the best for everyone. C’mon, Quinn, can’t you at least say something to her?”

Quinn shook his head. “No way. It’s not a good decision.”

Bobby started to speak again, then he broke off, clearly seeing the uselessness of his words. Quinn said nothing at all. Bobby stared a little bit longer, then left.

Quinn stood by the window, frozen with anger and confusion. A few minutes later, he watched Bobby exit the hospital downstairs and cross the parking lot to climb into his SUV.

Quinn’s muttered curse filled the hospital room as he swung away from the window. Late that night, when everything was quiet again, another emotion replaced the defensive anger he’d felt for Hannah. Quinn lay in bed and felt fearful.

What if he was wrong?

What if Bobby was telling the truth? What if Hannah continued to work and someone got hurt or even killed?

The same guilt Quinn felt now—for failure, right or wrong—would then be hers, as well.

THE NEXT MORNING, QUINN made his way down the hall for his physical therapy, his mind on what had happened the night before. He’d still heard nothing from Hannah and that worried him as much as anything. An hour into the session, he was almost finished on the treadmill when suddenly his leg went out from beneath him. He was suspended for two seconds, then he crashed down—hard. The moving belt grabbed him and tossed him onto the floor. He gasped and swore as pain flooded his body. The last thought he had before fainting was that he’d dislodged the pin in his thigh.

Thirty minutes later, back in his bed, bruised and sore, he tried to rationalize the accident. He’d lost concentration and fallen down. Big deal. It didn’t mean anything.

Did it?

Hannah arrived late that afternoon. He waited for her to say something about the call-out that had gone so wrong, but she kept her silence, her demeanor more subdued than ever. By the end of the evening, when she’d still said nothing, Quinn knew that could only mean one thing: she didn’t want him to know what had happened. He couldn’t press her and embarrass her more. When he urged her to go home and rest, she kissed him and left without argument.

Quinn watched the door swing shut behind her, one question filling his head—what in the bloody hell was he supposed to do?

If he asked her to quit the team and she did, she’d resent him the rest of her life. If he’d ever had any doubts about that, they were gone. Seeing the guys and hearing about their call-outs over the past few weeks had taught Quinn that lesson. Hannah wouldn’t be able to send him off to work every day and not go herself. She’d end up hating him.

He could say nothing and let Bobby fire her, but what kind of man would do that? Hannah had worked as hard as Quinn had to get where she was. If she ever learned he’d known about this and didn’t warn her, she’d leave him.

Of course, if Quinn couldn’t go back, none of this mattered one way or the other. He’d be forced to stay at home and watch her go to work every day. His only contribution would be his disability checks. Would they even be enough to support her and the children she wanted so badly? How would Hannah feel being tied to a man who couldn’t do his job? Would her love turn to pity? He had no intention of seeing that happen, but what if…

It was a lose-lose situation. An answer didn’t exist that wouldn’t hurt one of them.

An ache went through Quinn’s heart that made his physical pains feel like mere twinges. One of them had to give up the job.

The weekend came, and he still hadn’t told Hannah he was scheduled to be released. As she prepared to leave Sunday, he pulled her to him and held her close. The smell of her skin was as heady as always. For a moment, all he could think about was how to prolong the inevitable. Then he accepted the fact that he had no choice, he had to say something. He looked down at her and tried to etch the moment into his mind, telling himself the words to convince her would come to him. He’d been able to find them a thousand times in the past—why wouldn’t he find them now?

“I love you, Hannah.”

He wondered about the sadness in her eyes, but dismissed it when she reached up and put her hands on his cheeks. “I love you, too, Quinn. And that’s why we’ve got to talk….”

QUINN AGREED INSTANTLY and led her toward the edge of his bed, tugging her hand until she sat down beside him. Hannah’s heart stung with a physical pain. In the past, she’d thought people were exaggerating when they talked about heartbreaks, but now she understood.

Lying in her bed the night before, listening to a hard rain pound the roof and thinking about the funeral, she’d decided the time had come. She had a dream, and if she wanted to fulfill it, then she had to set the plans in motion. She had to. No one else was going to do it for her. Not even Quinn, as much as he loved her and she loved him.

As she wondered how to explain this to him, he surprised her by speaking first. “I’m glad you want to talk because I want to, too. I’ve been thinking a lot about everything that happened. We have dangerous jobs, Hannah, and this has made me aware of that fact even more than I was before.” He flicked his hand toward the hospital bed and all the medical equipment. “I ended up here…but it could have just as easily been you.”

“I know that,” she admitted. “In fact, I had my own realization…at the funeral. When I was sitting there, staring at those little coffins, I saw the truth. It could have been you lying up there at the front of the church instead of those poor kids.” She took a deep breath. “I knew what I was getting into when I joined the team, but…” She shook her head. “I don’t think I really understood until that moment.”

He had twined their fingers together, and in the silence that followed he looked down at their hands. When he didn’t answer or say anything, she reached over with her free hand and gently touched his cheek. “Quinn?”

He raised his eyes to hers, and something tightened inside her. She recognized the feeling as a warning, but for what, she had no idea.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you for the past two years, Hannah. Our careers aren’t like anyone else’s,” he said. “And I’m not just talking about danger. What we do is incredibly intense. We have to be one hundred percent ‘on’ all the time. We can’t accomplish what we need to with our brains half engaged—I’ve had friends who did that, and they paid for it with their lives.”

“I understand that…now,” she said quietly.

Since the accident, his voice had become harsher. The new tone made his next words sound all that more ominous.

“You say that, but do you really? I’ve been told your mind isn’t on the job. You’ve been distracted by me and everything else.”

She knew immediately where he was going and flared, not because he knew but because someone had taken it upon themselves to inform him. “You’re talking about the pipe bombs, aren’t you? Who told you?” When he didn’t answer—and she knew he wouldn’t—she went on, hiding her anger. “I made a mistake, Quinn, and I know it. I was waiting until you got stronger and then I was going to tell you about it myself. But I can promise you it won’t happen again.”

“You can make that kind of promise, sweetheart, but bad things can still happen.”

She’d given the accident a lot of thought, and when she’d calmed down, she’d come to see that was exactly what it had been—an accident. Everyone made them; she’d just have to be more careful. She looked at him levelly. “I was tired and I screwed up. I made a mistake, but that’s all it was.”

He stood suddenly. She did the same, and he reached out to grip her shoulders. Normally his touch would have brought heat with it, but this time a cold distance rose between them. Hannah shivered as another bad feeling rippled down her back.

“It was more than a mistake, Hannah. You could have been badly hurt…or even worse. If we’re going to make this work, then something has got to change.”

“Like what?”

He hesitated, then spoke carefully. “Maybe it’s time for one of us to leave the team.”

Her vague anxieties suddenly crystallized into something hard and cold. It lodged itself in her chest as she understood what had happened. Bobby was the one who’d told Quinn about the incident and Bobby was the one who’d put this thought in Quinn’s head. That fact registered, then fled. Bobby wasn’t the important one here. “Is that what you think should happen?”

“We’ve worked together for two years,” he hedged. “I’d like to think we could continue. But…”

“But this makes you more sure than ever that we shouldn’t have a family.”

He didn’t have to answer. The truth was in his eyes.

In the hall outside, a cart rumbled past. Dinner had arrived and was being distributed. Hannah felt nauseous as the smell of food wafted into the room.

Quinn stared and waited for her to say something.

“I can’t do this any more,” she said abruptly, rising and stepping away from him.

“That’s fine,” he said. “We can talk later if you like—”

She shook her head. “That’s not what I mean.” She waved her hands between them. “I’m talking about this. I’m talking about you and me. I can’t do it any longer.”

A stunned expression came over his face. “What are you saying?”

“It’s over between us, Quinn. I want out.”

He tried to reach for her, but she dodged his touch. He blinked, then spoke. “I understand you’re upset. We’ve been through hell, but Hannah… C’mon. You’re not thinking this through. We love each other. I need you and you need—”

She interrupted him, her voice like broken glass. “I know what I need, Quinn. And it’s not the same thing you do. The real issue isn’t about what we do or where we work, it’s about who we are. And we’re two very different people who want very different things. I knew that a long time ago, but I loved you so much I thought I could change you.” She took a deep breath. “I was wrong.”

“This isn’t about our differences. This is about life and the realities that are out there. I’m not talking about having a family or children—”

“It’s all connected, Quinn.” She looked at him, pain filling her entire body. “I can’t believe you don’t understand that, as smart as you are about people.”

“Hannah, you don’t understand—”

“You’re right,” she agreed calmly. “I don’t understand. And I probably never will. But I can’t let that stop me from doing what I want to do. This life is the only one I’ve got. I want to live it.” She swept her hand down his cheek, as her eyes filled with tears. A moment later, she was gone.

STUNNED BY HANNAH’S WORDS, Quinn felt the strength drain from his legs.

This was crazy.

Quinn loved Hannah. She loved him. How could she do this to them? How could she just walk away?

Even as he asked himself those questions, Quinn acknowledged he’d known all along this possibility existed. They’d argued too much for him to think otherwise. But dammit it to hell, children weren’t a possibility for them. He’d lost too many comrades to think it couldn’t happen to him, too. He wouldn’t bring a child into the world just to abandon it. That kind of irresponsibility went against everything he believed in.

The door swung open again, and for one heart-stopping moment, Quinn looked up, thinking she might have returned. But it wasn’t Hannah. One of the aides stood in the doorway, a dinner tray in her hand. She started to argue as he waved her off, then she looked at his face. Without saying a word, she backed quickly out of the room.

His heart felt as if it’d been winched from his chest and hoisted high. He’d never loved another woman as he loved Hannah. And with absolute certainty, he knew he’d never love anyone that way again.

But what choice did he have?

A clean break could set her free. Hannah didn’t deal with shades of gray, so a black-and-white resolution—right or wrong—would give her the ability to move on. She could find a nice accountant, keep her career, have her children and never worry. She’d write Quinn off and everything would fall into place for her. She’d forget all about him.

He lied to himself and said it was for the best.

Her happiness was what mattered most. She could have her career and her family, too. Quinn closed his eyes, more pain—despite his resolution—flooding his heart. She’d share her life with someone who saw things as she did. Someone who could be there for her and her children. Forever.

Someone who wasn’t Quinn.