Page 6 of Herding Cat

Their cab pulled up before the imposing edifice of Kowloon’s main hospital. It was modern, enormous and pristine. Thank God. Sometimes, in foreign countries, you never knew what you were going to get.

Garrett escorted Catherine from the cab—noting she did, indeed, hand over the hundred—and followed her into the emergency room.

The cacophony slammed into him like a wave. There were people everywhere, standing by the windows, sitting in the coral-colored chairs, waiting by the desk. Families. Children. Old men. Conversations in multiple languages, wails and strident demands assaulted his ears.

He held onto Catherine’s arm—though she clearly didn’t want to be constrained—as he quartered the room, quickly assessing any threats. It didn’t take long for him to identify the biggest menace in the room.

One indomitable woman.

Catherine jerked her arm free and stormed to the information desk. Garrett cursed beneath his breath and skittered after her. Honestly, sometimes keeping track of her was like herding cats. While she grilled the receptionist—poor girl, she was only doing her job—Garrett kept his attention on the milling crowd.

He’d long ago learned there was no such thing as paranoia when it came to protecting your target. Anyone could be a threat. He hated that there were so many people here.

At long last, Catherine found someone who knew where Scott was, and she convinced him—with perhaps another Franklin or two—to take them to him. He was still in a treatment room, and though the room was large and held many other patients, Scott’s niche was separated from the others with a curtain.

He grinned when he saw them, then lifted a hand and waved, warbling in a far too delighted voice, “Howdy!”

Catherine took his hand. “How are you?” she asked.

“Never better, Cat.”

She blinked. Shot a look at Garrett. Judging from her expression, she’d never been called Cat before, or if she had, it had been a while. “I...ah...good.”

“Gonna need a pin though.” Why he chuckled, Garrett had no idea. Or maybe he did.

He nodded to the IV. “Got you on some pretty good pain meds, don’t they?”

Scott—big, bad alpha SEAL—giggled. “Morphine, I think.” He grabbed Catherine’s hand and squeezed. And yeah, again, she jerked in surprise. “I’m glad you’re okay, baby.”

Her lashes fluttered and Garrett felt it again, that drizzle of jealousy. Not that Catherine had ever shown any interest in his buddy, but she had smiled at him. Garrett had never gotten a smile.

“I’m fine. Thanks to you.” She disengaged her hand, though Scott grabbed it again.

He stared up at her with a mooncalf expression. “You are so pretty,” he murmured. “Did I ever tell you that?”

A flush rose on her cheeks. “I...ah... No. You haven’t.”

“Well you are. Damn pretty. You know how hard it’s been watching you, and not making a move?”

Well, fuck.

Catherine went stock-still. Her flush drained to a sheet of white. “I... Making a move?”

“You know. A little kissy face?” He pooched out his lips as though he intended to make up for lost time, right here in the emergency room with someone’s grandmother on the other side of the curtain losing control of her bowel functions.

Catherine turned to Garrett, her eyes wide. Her expression was blank, but there was something there, something hidden in the shadows of her features. It might have been amusement.

“He’s...uh...high.”

She nodded. “I gathered.”

“What do you say, Miss Hightower? Wanna take a ride on the Scotty Train?”

The Scotty Train? Did that line actually work for him?

“I think we should go,” he murmured into her ear and was relieved that she nodded.

She leaned down and patted Scott’s arm. “We’ll come back and see you tomorrow, okay?”