Conceal, Protect - By Carol Ericson Page 0,36
car.”
“They were going after you, too, J.D., whether or not they realize you’re Prospero. It’s enough that you’re protecting this woman. You’re in the way.”
“You’re probably right, but that just makes the situation that much more dangerous for Noelle. She deserves to know who’s after her. Who knows? She might be able to give us info about Abby that we don’t know.”
“You already said Noelle doesn’t know anything—either she does or she doesn’t.”
J.D. clenched his fist and eyed the wall again, but he passed this time. “She doesn’t consciously know anything. She would’ve brought it up if she did. But unconsciously? Maybe once I tell her the whole story about Abby, it will jog her memory. We should’ve trusted her from the get-go.”
Jack cleared his throat. “Prospero doesn’t trust anyone from the get-go. Look at what happened with Colonel Scripps. Sometimes we can’t even trust our own.”
“Prospero’s different under you, Jack. I’d trust any one of you with my life.”
“Stop trying to kiss my ass. If you’re sure about this woman, then go for it. We haven’t turned up anything suspicious on her after all our digging.”
“Thank you!” J.D. pumped his fist in the air. “She just might lead us to the missing plans.”
“Maybe, but once she finds out an international arms dealer without a shred of scruples is after her, she may never let you out of her sight.”
J.D. dropped onto the bed. That prospect didn’t sound half-bad. “You don’t know this woman, Jack. She doesn’t back down.”
“It’s your job to make sure she does. We don’t need to leave a trail of dead civilians on our quest to nail Zendaris.”
“That’s not going to happen. I’ll protect Noelle with my life.”
J.D. could hear Coburn sigh over the line.
“I—I mean, I’d protect any civilian against Zendaris with my life.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know that. Watch your back. Zendaris’s guys have the advantage.”
“They do?”
“They have their sights trained on you...and you don’t have a clue what they even look like.”
J.D. tossed the phone onto the nightstand and stretched out on the bed, his boots hanging off the edge. He couldn’t wait to come clean to Noelle tomorrow morning. They’d work this together, and knowing the source of the threats against her would keep her safer.
He could finally tell her his true identity. Would she like J.D. the spy better than she liked J.D. the ranch hand? Would she trust that J.D. more? Let him get closer?
He’d have his answer soon enough.
* * *
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, J.D. left his hotel for a brisk walk to the hospital a block away. He’d already arranged to have a rental car delivered to the hospital. Between that guardrail and the boulder, his truck was totaled.
He stopped along the way for a couple of lattes and a blueberry scone in case Noelle couldn’t stomach the hospital breakfast.
Riding up the elevator to the fourth floor, he whistled a tuneless series of notes. He waved to the nurses at the front station and headed down the antiseptic-smelling corridor to Noelle’s room, his boots scuffing against the shiny linoleum.
The door stood open, and he poked his head around the corner, into the room. The doctor had a penlight out, shining it in Noelle’s eyes.
J.D.’s heart skipped a beat or two. “Everything okay, Doctor?”
The doctor turned and flashed the beam of light onto an X-ray. “Sharing the good news with Noelle. She definitely had a concussion, but the CAT scan doesn’t show any cracks to the skull. She’s free to go today.”
“That’s great.” J.D. shifted his gaze to Noelle’s face, where the good news hadn’t registered. He held up the coffees, the bag of goodies clutched in his right hand. “I brought you a latte and scone from the coffeehouse down the street.”
“Thanks.” Her lips barely moved as she eked out the word.
J.D. raised his brows. “Did you have a good night’s sleep? Is your head still bothering you?”
“Ibuprofen dulls the pain, and as long as I didn’t crack my skull, I’m thrilled.”
She didn’t look thrilled—not at all. “Any instructions before I take her home, Doc?”
“The nurse will review some instructions with you.” The doctor slid the X-ray films from the light board. “Do you two live together?”
“No.” Noelle practically shouted the denial. “He stays in the guesthouse.”
The way she said guesthouse, it might’ve been doghouse. The pain must be getting to her, or she wasn’t herself yet. The nurse would probably explain more.
The doctor’s eyebrows shot up to his nonexistent hairline. “Your friend is going to have to keep an