Gotcha! by Christie Craig Page B

shirt—would wink at her. Why was he doing that? And why had he kissed her? Just what sort of idea had she given him?
    Mark Donaldson plopped down beside her on the couch. He introduced himself to Nan, then focused on Macy. “You okay?”
    “Dandy.” She tried to smile. Mark seemed like a nice guy, and for some reason she found him harmless. At least, he was harmless compared to how Sergeant Baldwin made her feel.
    She raised her right hand and the handcuffs danced in the air. “Got a hacksaw?”
    Donaldson chuckled. “They’re thinking about having your knee declared a lethal weapon and making you register it.”
    Grimacing, Macy stared at the painted words on the wall: Fuck and Die . Fear played a slow tune on her heart.
    As Baldwin appeared, fear vanished. Or really it just changed tempo. She’d already admitted that this man scared her.
    Jake nudged Donaldson aside—not physically, but with a look. The blond cop moved to a chair, and Jake lowered his six-feet-plus frame next to Macy. His jean-covered thigh pressed warm against hers. She scooted closer to Nan.
    “Give me your hand,” he said.
    “Why?”
    He dangled a key in front of her. “I talked Thompson into forgiving you.”
    “He’s a wuss. I didn’t hit him half as hard as I hit you.”
    “Hold your tongue,” Nan commanded. “And give him your arm.” Her gaze went to Baldwin. “She gets mouthy when she’s scared.”
    “I figured that out.” Baldwin winked at Nan. His smile oozed charm, and Nan responded with a grin of her own.
    Great. Now the man was flirting with her grandma.
    Nan leaned in. “The ball busting might be my fault. I taught her to do it.”
    “You taught her well.” A smile filled Baldwin’s blue eyes. He removed the cuffs, then gently rubbed Macy’s wrist.
    She jerked away and glanced at the clock. “How much longer will this take?”
    Jake glanced around. “I think they’re almost done. I’ve never seen CSI move so quick.”
    Donaldson sat forward. “That’s because of the FBI.”
    Macy looked back at Jake. “I’ve got to leave in an hour.”
    “Where to?” Baldwin’s brow wrinkled.
    Macy scowled. “I have to clear my schedule with you?”
    “Since an escaped convict is trying to kill you,” he said in tense voice, “yeah.”
    The front door swung open, and two men wearing suits crossed the threshold as if they owned the joint. Macy recognized one of them. “What, my doorbell isn’t working?” she asked.
    “Behave,” Baldwin snapped.
    Agent James’s gaze moved from wall to wall before focusing on Baldwin. The look in the FBI agent’s eyes predicted bad news. “Can I have a word with you?” he asked.
    Baldwin rose from the sofa. Macy popped up beside him. Nan shot up, too.
    Macy and Nan asked in unison, “Is Billy okay?”
    Hal had just settled into his new room and got the damn tube out of his pecker when the urge to pee hit. He almost called the nurse, but hated feeling useless. Pulling himself up, he managed to get his legs to the side of the bed. He inched off the mattress, tested his footing, and found himself shaky but mobile. One hand on the bed, he reached for his IV pole.
    Cold air breezed over his bare ass. The door squeaked open, followed by a soft yelp. He’d just mooned himself another victim.
    “Goddamn it.” He looked over his shoulder. The same volunteer from the ICU stood in his doorway, her blue eyes zeroed in on his behind. His knees weakened. “Could you give me a hand? Before I fall on my ass?” he grunted.
    She rushed forward and wrapped her arm around his waist. His naked waist. She nudged him toward the bed.
    “I’m not getting in,” he growled. “I’m getting out.”
    She sniffled. He glanced up. The woman had tears in her eyes. Again.
    “I know my ass isn’t pretty, but I didn’t think it could bring a woman to tears.”
    She blinked. “You need to get in bed.”
    “I need to go to the bathroom.”
    “I’ll get you the bedpan,” she said in a hiccupping