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"I won't dance, I promise."
"Good. Let me know if you experience any lightheadedness or nausea." With a tight smile, the doctor opened the door and stepped outside. "Ms. Radcliffe? You can come in now." He blocked her path as she reached the door. "He's got to take it easy. Understood?"
"Yes. Understood." Sabrina's voice was scratchy, but audible. She strode in, relief flooding her face as she saw Dylan. She went right to him, touching his jaw with gentle fingertips and leaning up to kiss him. "Hey."
"Hey, yourself." He scrutinized her from head to toe, at least as much of her as he could see. She was wearing a hospital gown, which covered a lot more of her than his shirt had. Her cheeks had a few cuts and smudges on them, and a section of her hair was singed. A couple of scrapes and bruises marred the skin of her forearms, and her breathing was definitely raspy. Most of all, her eyes were teary and red, and she kept blinking, trying to make the burning go away.
Despite it all, she was fine. Alive and fine.
And worried about him.
"Does your head hurt a lot?" she grated out, coughing once or twice between words. "The doctor said you had a concussion. And your chest..." Her features tightened as she studied the bandage. "Oh, Dylan. Is it a deep gash?"
"Just a cut. But you can dote on me anyway." He glanced down at himself. "Hmm. Naked from the waist up, injured, with an impressive-sized bandage on my chest. Pretty damned sexy, huh? Makes me look like James Bond."
Sabrina snickered, and promptly began to cough. "Don't make me laugh. It hurts."
"It's that sensitive nose of yours." He traced it with his forefinger. "Is it badly irritated?"
"It burns a little. It'll get better. And you didn't answer my question. How's your head?"
"My head is fine. All of me is fine, now that you're here."
"I can't believe this happened." Sabrina dragged both hands through her hair. "Someone actually tried to kill us."
"You," Dylan corrected. "Someone tried to kill you. I just got in the way of his plan."
Sabrina met Dylan's gaze. "I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"Putting you in clanger. I had no idea..."
"Sabrina, I love you. If anything had happened to you and I hadn't been there to stop it..." He drew a sharp breath. "Don't apologize, okay?"
"Okay." She licked her lips. "But I will say thank you, inadequate as that sounds. I'd be dead if it weren't for you. I've never seen anyone move so fast in my life."
"Hey, if you've dealt with one Molotov cocktail, you've dealt with them all."
"Obviously." With a pensive expression, Sabrina contemplated the situation. "Whoever did this knew I was at your apartment."
Dylan shrugged. "According to what you told me about our involvement being public knowledge, that could have been anyone."
"Not really. Knowing we're involved doesn't mean knowing I spent tonight at your place."
"True. On the other hand, whoever did this might have trashed your apartment first, then headed over to mine when he realized you weren't home."
Sabrina's eyes widened. "I never thought of that."
"I'm sure Whitman and Barton did. They must know a lot more than we do by now. We should talk to them, find out where things stand."
"I agree." Sabrina went to the door and croaked out a few words to the nurse outside. "She'll send them in," she told Dylan, before dissolving into another spasm of coughing.
"Sit down," Dylan ordered her. "And stop doing so much talking. I'll take the lead for a change." He watched her strained, shaky motions as she pulled over a chair, and he realized how much this ordeal had thrown her, bravado or not. "Hey," he said, determined to lighten the gravity of the moment. "Speaking of taking the lead, I have a bone to pick with you."
"What?" Sabrina gave him a quizzical look as she sat down.
"Earlier tonight, you threatened to fire me if I didn't make love to you right away. That's sexual harassment. On the other hand, it's also a major turn-on. So I've decided not to file charges. Instead, I've decided to do whatever I have to, as often as I have to, and as fast as I have to, to keep my job."
