Hemingway - Zoe Dawson Page 0,14

and he opened his eyes. He’d expected that she was disapproving of having Jugs in bed with him. But this was a Navy hospital, and Max wouldn’t rest until Jugs was settled. The Malinois had been franticly barking, causing distress and mayhem until he was reunited with Max.

Juggernaut didn’t take no for an answer when it came to protecting his partner.

But when Max met the pretty blonde’s gaze, there was appreciation in her eyes.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Max said, his voice a gravelly rasp.

Something started beeping, and he looked down to see the pulse monitor had been dislodged from his index finger. She flushed and smiled.

“Carter,” a starched voice snapped out, and the young woman stiffened, turning. He leaned slightly to see his drill sergeant nurse standing there. She was a small woman in stature but what she lacked in height, she made up in sheer personality. “What are you doing?”

“Checking his meds.”

“I didn’t know that checking meds came with a side of ogling. Off with you for God sakes. Can’t you hear that he has lost contact with his pulse and heart monitor?”

She backed up as Lieutenant Marion Murphy looked at the level of medication and reattached his monitor clip. “Get on with your rounds.”

The woman scurried out of the room and Max smiled.

“What’s so funny?” she said, adjusting his IV.

“Nothing, ma’am.”

“Don’t think I don’t know you’re one of those smart aleck warriors strutting around thinking they are indestructible. You and your little dog too.”

He chuckled, and she covered up a smile as she fluffed his pillows and arranged his blankets.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Max stretched out and Murphy muttered under her breath about the inappropriateness of having a dog in a hospital. She gave Max a narrowed look and said, “Jugs. Down.” Max turned a laugh into a cough when Jugs obeyed her, and with whatever bravado he had left, went to the edge of the room and nudged at his ball. “Later, you silly animal,” she said as she turned to him. “Let’s take a look at your wound and get your dressing changed out.”

Jugs might be one of the most aggressive dogs on the planet, but Nurse Murphy certainly knew how to project that alpha dog vibe. “How is Mak…Agent Ballentine?”

“She was treated and released last night. Needed a few stitches was all.”

He breathed a sigh of relief.

“Wasn’t your fault your through-and-through hit her.”

“You trying to make me feel better, Lieutenant?”

“Who me? Just stating the bare facts. You got me mixed up with someone who cares.”

He chuckled again, then grunted softly as she gently pulled away the dressing and studied the wound. So, he was protective of women and children, animals and the downtrodden. There was no crime in that.

“Dr. Hunsecker does some nice work. You’ll barely have a mark.”

“Aw, that’s too bad. Us strutting warriors like to impress the babes with our battle scars,” 2-Stroke said as he entered the room with a takeout bag and the rest of the team trailing behind.

Maybe she wasn’t affected by Max, but 2-Stroke made her fingers tremble a bit on the tape as she bandaged him back up. 2-Stroke was in his customary leather, his chestnut hair gleaming against the overhead lights. He was a pretty boy, and that apparently did it for the middle-aged crowd. Not that Lieutenant Murphy didn’t look good in her starched uniform, her serious bedside manner nothing more than her way of keeping her caring nature from overwhelming her. He was sure she’d seen a lot more than his simple injury. There was not only an age gap there, but a military line she couldn’t cross. 2-Stroke was all of twenty-one-years-old and she was pushing forty at least. Maybe it was something about his teammate that made the forty-somethings remember their distant youth.

Max was already thirty and had been operating for a long time. Like the lieutenant, he’d pushed away something permanent for the good of his career, and he thought in another ten years, he’d be where she was now. Thinking about settling down had been something foreign to him, even with five nagging sisters who were taking the plunge. He was a guy with no limits. The brotherhood was all he’d really needed, but he was starting to empathize with his tough-as-nails nurse. Maybe he was going soft.

Pitbull let go of his daughter Samantha’s hand and wrestled a bit with Jugs. Dragon was carrying Ceri, and he set her down next to Samantha. Ceri picked up the ball and threw it. The dog bounded after