Shadow Hawk by Jill Shalvis Page B

decided, oh, gee, maybe we’d better do our job and remove the kid from his situation. Logan had thrived in foster homes, but thanks in no small part to his wild streak, he’d still managed to land himself in various emergency rooms all on his own.
    Then there’d been Special Forces and the time he and Hawk had been nearly shot to kingdom come when their convoy had been hit in the Gulf.
    Since then, however, he’d actually managed to stay hospital free, though he had a running bet with Hawk—one hundred bucks on which of them would run out of luck first.
    And damn it, now he’d lost. Unless he could get himself checked out before Hawk found out….
    Something rustled at his side, and a face swam in front of his. Fiery red hair, black-rimmed glasses, mossy eyes and well-glossed lips.
    His sweet angel, who’d been with him when he’d been dreaming about Playboy bunnies, and when he’d ended up tossing his cookies at her feet.
    Oh, yeah, that had been a highlight.
    Still the sight of her made him want to smile. When he did, a whole new kind of pain swam through him. “Oh, shit.”
    â€œCareful.” She cupped his jaw, her hand blessedly cool on his burning skin. “Stay still.”
    He let out a raw laugh. “Yeah. Not so good at that.”
    â€œI’d suggest trying.”
    She’d seen him at his absolute worst and was still here. Other than Hawk, that was a rarity for him. And worth everything. He could look at her all day. Hell, all week. He felt dazzled. Dizzy.
    But that might have been the pain meds. “You stayed.”
    She put her deliciously cool hand on his forehead. “I’m glad you’re back.”
    â€œWhen was I gone?”
    â€œYou’ve been pretty out of it. Your boss called and he sounded devastated at what had happened to you.”
    â€œTibbs?”
    â€œI didn’t catch his name. He said he’d see you soon.”
    â€œSouthern accent so thick he sounds like his cheeks are filled with marbles?”
    â€œNo. Sort of a rushed, clipped voice.”
    At that, images flashed to him from the barn. Everything going to shit. The shadow on the roof with him. Looking down and seeing something, someone on the ground, looking up at him just before the hit to the head.
    Gaines.
    He knew that now. He’d looked into Gaines’s eyes and yet had been hit from behind.
    By one of Gaines’s men. Bastard.
    â€œYou were out for a long time.”
    That sounded bad. He only vaguely remembered being loaded from the chopper into the hospital, but he definitely remembered this gorgeous angel hovering over him with those sweet eyes and that mouth that made him think of hot, sweaty sex. He tried to lift a hand to touch her and found it taped to a board with two separate IVs hooked up to his arm. Uh-oh. Locating his other hand, he slapped at his legs to make sure they were both still there, and a searing bolt of pain sang up his right leg. This time he couldn’t even swear, much less breathe.
    â€œOh, Logan, don’t.” She ran a hand down his arm in a slow, comforting manner. “Just hang tight. And don’t move.”
    He gasped for breath. “Just—give it to me straight. My injuries.”
    She looked him right in the eyes. “Well, you have some.”
    â€œSome? Or so many they can’t be counted?”
    Her lips quirked. Her eyes softened. “Somewhere in the middle.”
    A sense of humor. With eyes like that and a mouth made for sin, it was sensory overload. “Tell me.”
    â€œLet me get your doctor—”
    Somehow he managed to grab her hand and hold her still. “I want to hear it from you.”
    â€œWell, you have quite a concussion.”
    â€œOkay, that explains why my head feels like it was stitched back onto my neck.”
    â€œYep, eighteen stitches.”
    â€œOuch.”
    â€œThere was some concern about the length of time you were unconscious,