Seeing Red(42)

“I bother you?”

She responded with a sound that could have gone either way, but he took it as a yes.

“Good,” he said in a near growl as he used his knee to nudge hers apart. “’Cause you sure as hell have kept me bothered.”

His inner thigh rubbed against hers, creating a different kind of achiness that made her forget all her other twinges and pains. This ache was a feverish yearning that felt good, that made pleasure points throb.

He moved his hand up from her nape to cup the back of her head and held it in place while their mouths opened to each other. During the deep and greedy kiss he worked his free hand under her top and into the elastic waistband of the baggy pants. He lightly ground the heel of his hand against her hipbone while his fingers curved around the slope below her waist. He drew her hips forward. She gladly went along with his subtle invitation, and their parts fit together perfectly on the first attempted connection.

He groaned, “Christ, Kerra. Please tell me I’m gonna get to fuck you.”

The knock sounded loudly directly behind her head.

Her body, bowing tautly against his, went slack. Trapper blistered the wall paint with his raspy swearing as he dropped his hand from the back of her head and pulled the other from her waistband.

She smoothed her hair, turned, and opened the door.

Sheriff Addison was standing just the other side of the threshold, scowling, not at her but looking above her head at Trapper.

Trapper scowled back. “What now? You’re missing a spoon from the family silver chest?”

“It’s The Major.”





Chapter 12




Major Franklin Trapper listened to them discussing his condition.

He couldn’t have picked the doctor out of a crowd, because he’d never actually seen him, but he recognized his voice from having heard him talking to the nurses earlier. He was saying, “He’s been responding to commands. Wiggle your toes. Raise your index finger. I realize that doesn’t sound like much, but believe me, it is.”

John asked, “Can he hear us now?”

“Major Trapper,” the doctor said, raising his volume a notch. “If you can hear us, open your eyes.”

The Major did as commanded, and you would have thought he’d summited Everest without supplemental oxygen. The doctor was a blur in a white lab coat, his face a smudge of flesh with nostrils and eyeholes, but The Major made out his wide smile. He even chuckled. “Welcome back. Your son is here and anxious to see you.”

He stepped aside, and John moved into view. He dwarfed the doctor by half a foot. He was wearing a shearling coat that added breadth to his shoulders and blocked everything else from The Major’s field of vision.

“Hey. It’s good to see you awake. You had everybody worried sick.”

The Major didn’t so much note what John had said as the way he’d said it: like he meant it. His usual insolence was missing.

“You’ve had a rough go,” he continued, then turned his head aside to address the doctor. “Will he have any memory of it?”

“With head injuries, the patient rarely remembers the event itself. He may be able to tell you what he ate for breakfast that morning, but—”

“Oatmeal,” The Major croaked.

That was the first time he’d spoken. It surprised John and the doctor, who shuttled John aside and asked, “You ate oatmeal that morning?”

“Every morning.”

“Oh, I see,” the doctor said. “What year is it?”

He answered.

“Can you tell me your birthday?”

He mumbled the date. The doctor looked to John for verification, and when he gave a curt nod, the doctor beamed again. “Excellent.”

John asked, “How’s he doing with the chest wound?”

“No complications from the surgery. He’s breathing on his own, so we were able to take out the tube. It’s remarkable, really.”

“We’re lucky you were on call in the ER that night,” John said. “If it’d been someone without your experience and know-how, he wouldn’t have made it. You saved his life.” John extended his hand to the doctor, and they shook.

“Thank you, but I believe your dad had something to do with it. He has an indomitable life force. Good karma. A guardian angel, maybe.”

“He bleeds like everybody else,” John said in his blunt manner of speaking. “And he almost bled out.”

“All I know is, in his lifetime he’s had two close calls and survived both. He’ll be even more of a legend now than before, and it’ll start as soon as I address them downstairs.”

“Address who?”

“Media. I’ve been holding them off until I had something to report, good or bad. A hospital spokesperson alerted them that there’d been a development. They’re assembling in a conference room, waiting for me. You’re welcome to join me. In fact, it would be quite special to have you there.”

“No thanks,” John replied, seeming not to have to think twice. “It’s your show.”

The doctor returned his attention to The Major, gave him an encouraging smile, told him that he would be checking on him later, then said to John, “Take a minute or two, but don’t pressure him to answer questions. His anxiety level should be kept to a minimum.”