before Angel wrapped a restraining hand around her elbow, giving her a nearly negligible shake of his head before smiling winningly as the ship’s surgeon strolled toward them.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Angel rasped as the doctor shoved thick, black-rimmed glasses up a rather short nose while tucking a clipboard under his uniformed arm. “But Miss Reichert wanted to personally thank the man who spearheaded the negotiations for her ransom, even if all our work on her behalf turned out to be unneeded,” he added quickly. “Is now a bad time?”
Geez, Becky. Use your head.
Frank was supposed to be a perfect stranger, so she couldn’t very well run to his bedside and start crooning over him. But that’s exactly what she’d have done had Angel not held her back.
And you think you’re ready to be an operator? Pfft.
The doctor ran a critical eye over both of them before glancing at his watch. “No. It’s time for me to wake Mr. Smith anyway,” he used Frank’s alias, “and test his cognitive abilities. Come with me.”
“And how is the patient?” Angel asked as they followed the doctor toward the back of the room.
“He has three problems,” the ship’s surgeon said, referring to his clipboard. “The first is the laceration near his scalp. I stitched that up and, as long as he keeps it dry and clean, it should heal rather nicely with barely a scar.”
Not that another scar would make that much difference , she thought lovingly, her eyes glued to Frank’s battle-ravaged face as they approached his hospital bed.
“His second problem is that he’s concussed. His CT scan shows some bruising but no bleeding, so as long as he takes it easy, he should be back to form in a couple of days. His third problem, however, isn’t such an easy fix.” The doctor stopped, and Becky wanted to howl No, damnit! Keep walking! But she was forced to peel her eyes away from Frank to fix her attention on the doctor. “You said he came by this injury after falling from the second story railing outside the mess hall?”
“Yes.” Angel shuddered for effect. “I think I’ll hear that bone-rattling thud in my dreams tonight.”
The doctor cringed in sympathy. “Yes, well, when I first examined his shoulder, Mr. Smith explained how he’s had a rotator cuff tear that has gone untreated for years. Unfortunately, this latest injury makes the option of forgoing treatment impossible. He’ll require surgery once he’s back stateside.”
“Mmm,” Angel shook his head, “he won’t be too happy to hear that.”
Um, yeah. That might be putting things a tad mildly since, as Billy liked to say, Frank was a 100 percent tear-off-your-head-and-shit-down-your-throat warrior. Being out of commission for whatever length of time it was going to take to rehabilitate himself was going to make him mad as hell.
The doctor escorted them the final feet to Frank’s bedside, and Becky had to lace her hands behind her back to keep from reaching out to touch him.
“Mr. Smith?” The doctor gently shook Frank’s uninjured shoulder. “I need you to wake up for me. Can you do that?”
Frank’s eyes instantly snapped open, but they were dull and glassy, unfocused.
“Mr. Smith,” the doctor began but was cut off when Frank lazily glanced over at her.
“So beautiful,” he murmured dreamily. “Beautiful Rebecca Reichert.”
Alarm slammed through her like a sledgehammer blow. “What’s wrong with him? Is it the concussion?” Because Frank didn’t say things like that to her. Ever.
“No, no” the doctor assured her. “He’s had an…um, unexpected reaction to the pain meds. I used the correct dosage for a man of his size, but he’s been flying high as a kite ever since. It happens sometimes. Has something to do with a quirk in a person’s metabolic rate, but he’ll come down soon enough.”
“Ooohhh,” Frank pursed his lips, making a pouty face that astounded her as much as it disconcerted her, “that poor, poor li’l
“Sorry to interrupt,” Angel rasped as the doctor shoved thick, black-rimmed glasses up a rather short nose while tucking a clipboard under his uniformed arm. “But Miss Reichert wanted to personally thank the man who spearheaded the negotiations for her ransom, even if all our work on her behalf turned out to be unneeded,” he added quickly. “Is now a bad time?”
Geez, Becky. Use your head.
Frank was supposed to be a perfect stranger, so she couldn’t very well run to his bedside and start crooning over him. But that’s exactly what she’d have done had Angel not held her back.
And you think you’re ready to be an operator? Pfft.
The doctor ran a critical eye over both of them before glancing at his watch. “No. It’s time for me to wake Mr. Smith anyway,” he used Frank’s alias, “and test his cognitive abilities. Come with me.”
“And how is the patient?” Angel asked as they followed the doctor toward the back of the room.
“He has three problems,” the ship’s surgeon said, referring to his clipboard. “The first is the laceration near his scalp. I stitched that up and, as long as he keeps it dry and clean, it should heal rather nicely with barely a scar.”
Not that another scar would make that much difference , she thought lovingly, her eyes glued to Frank’s battle-ravaged face as they approached his hospital bed.
“His second problem is that he’s concussed. His CT scan shows some bruising but no bleeding, so as long as he takes it easy, he should be back to form in a couple of days. His third problem, however, isn’t such an easy fix.” The doctor stopped, and Becky wanted to howl No, damnit! Keep walking! But she was forced to peel her eyes away from Frank to fix her attention on the doctor. “You said he came by this injury after falling from the second story railing outside the mess hall?”
“Yes.” Angel shuddered for effect. “I think I’ll hear that bone-rattling thud in my dreams tonight.”
The doctor cringed in sympathy. “Yes, well, when I first examined his shoulder, Mr. Smith explained how he’s had a rotator cuff tear that has gone untreated for years. Unfortunately, this latest injury makes the option of forgoing treatment impossible. He’ll require surgery once he’s back stateside.”
“Mmm,” Angel shook his head, “he won’t be too happy to hear that.”
Um, yeah. That might be putting things a tad mildly since, as Billy liked to say, Frank was a 100 percent tear-off-your-head-and-shit-down-your-throat warrior. Being out of commission for whatever length of time it was going to take to rehabilitate himself was going to make him mad as hell.
The doctor escorted them the final feet to Frank’s bedside, and Becky had to lace her hands behind her back to keep from reaching out to touch him.
“Mr. Smith?” The doctor gently shook Frank’s uninjured shoulder. “I need you to wake up for me. Can you do that?”
Frank’s eyes instantly snapped open, but they were dull and glassy, unfocused.
“Mr. Smith,” the doctor began but was cut off when Frank lazily glanced over at her.
“So beautiful,” he murmured dreamily. “Beautiful Rebecca Reichert.”
Alarm slammed through her like a sledgehammer blow. “What’s wrong with him? Is it the concussion?” Because Frank didn’t say things like that to her. Ever.
“No, no” the doctor assured her. “He’s had an…um, unexpected reaction to the pain meds. I used the correct dosage for a man of his size, but he’s been flying high as a kite ever since. It happens sometimes. Has something to do with a quirk in a person’s metabolic rate, but he’ll come down soon enough.”
“Ooohhh,” Frank pursed his lips, making a pouty face that astounded her as much as it disconcerted her, “that poor, poor li’l
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