A Man Alone

That was heartbreaking to her. A man like this, who had incredible courage, would now became an amputee. He didn’t deserve such a reward, Maya thought. Looking up at the girl who huddled in the corner, her eyes huge with tears, Maya felt for her, too. Life was nasty sometimes. Valerie Winston would never forget this. And Maya hoped she would never forget the men who had given their lives to rescue her. People like Captain Hamilton made the world a little better place to live in. A safer place for people like Valerie.

Leaning down, her lips close to his ear, Maya said, “Just try to rest, Captain. We’re going to be landing in Cusco in less than thirty minutes. I’ve got the best paramedic in the world taking care of you.”

Thane forced out the words. “Thank you…for everything.”

Angel looked up momentarily, her lean, angular, dark brown face tense, the corners of her full mouth pulled flat. Her hands were bloody as she wrapped his injured leg.

Maya looked down at the marine once more. He had lost consciousness again. That was good. “It’s sad, Angel. This guy deserves medals and it looks like he’s going to lose this leg instead as a reward for what he just did.”

“I dunno,” Angel rasped as she reached around Maya and dragged her paramedic pack toward her. “If Dr. Del Prado is the bone surgeon on duty there at the Cusco hospital, he might try and save this dude’s leg. He’s got the ability to do it, but he’s the only one in Peru who could pull it off.”

“Better hope our best bone doctor is on duty, then,” Maya said grimly.

“Captain?”

It was her copilot, Dove Rivera.

Maya lifted her head and looked toward the cockpit. “Yeah?”

“I’m receiving a top secret message for you, Captain. It’s from Rolling Thunder. You expecting something from them?”

“Yeah…” The mission they were currently on was run by Perseus, a covert agency that often collaborated with the government. “That has to be the head of the organization, Morgan Trayhern. This mission was his ops—operation.” She had never met Trayhern, but had worked with other officials within Perseus because it, too, operated in conjunction with the CIA, as did her base and operation in Peru.

“Oh, okay. Want me to patch it through to you over the private intercom?”

“Yeah, do it, Dove.” Maya didn’t care if her sergeant heard the message or not. They all had top secret clearances. Releasing the marine’s limp hand, Maya pressed her fingers to the ear of her helmet to listen closely to the incoming message. Sometimes, such satellite transmissions were broken up, particularly in the mountainous regions of Peru where they were presently flying like a bat out of hell to save the marine.

“This is Kingbird to Rolling Thunder. Over,” Maya said. Kingbird was their call designation indicator when satcom messages of this type had to be broadcast. In the event that anyone was able to capture the encrypted message, that person would have no idea of the caller’s true identification or position at the time of the transmission.

“Rolling Thunder. Kingbird, have you got the goods? Over.”

The “goods” meant the girl, and Maya knew the code language. “Roger, we have the goods. Alive and well.”

“Roger. And Checkerboard? What is their status?”

Grimly, Maya knew that Checkerboard was the marine Recon team sent in to rescue Valerie. “Rolling Thunder, we have one survivor of Checkerboard. Right now, we are heading for the nearest hospital, where we have an emergency team on standby. Over.”

“Roger. I will contact you when you arrive at your destination. Be on standby. Over.”

“Roger that, Rolling Thunder. I’ll await your call. Over and out.”

“Rolling Thunder, out.”

Maya watched as Angel placed a very tight tourniquet bandage around the bleeder, which seemed to have stopped leaking for the most part.

“That means we have to hang around for a call,” Dove lamented.

Maya didn’t like being on the ground wherever there were people and prying eyes. Especially in the second largest city in Peru. Because their mission was one of utmost stealth, top secret to everyone except two Peruvian government officials, she didn’t like to draw attention to herself or her crews. “Yeah, I know. But Rolling Thunder wants the ID on this marine. He’s going to have to contact his family and get him some medical help stateside. It’s gotta be done.”

“We’ll stay with the Cobra,” Dove said unhappily. “You gonna take the call inside the hospital?”

“Thanks,” Maya said dryly, with a smile. She saw Dove’s own smile as she turned her head briefly and met her eyes. Her copilot was also Que’ro Indian, from the highlands of Peru. She was only the second woman pilot in the Peruvian Air Force. Dove had turned into a fine helicopter pilot, thanks to training she’d received at Fort Rucker, Alabama, many years earlier. Now she was back in her own country to help the Peruvian people eradicate the drug trade. Nearly all her family had been murdered by drug lords, and she’d barely escaped with her young life. Dove Rivera had an ongoing vendetta against them, and with good reason. She lived to fly. She lived to kill every last one of them she could set her gun sights on. Maya didn’t blame her.

“This guy’s pressure is slowly dropping,” Angel reported unhappily as she studied the reading on the blood pressure cuff. “Man…this isn’t good. I was hoping he’d stabilize…. Del Prado isn’t going to like this. The question is can we get him there in time or not?”

Maya slowly eased into a crouched position, because no one could straighten up fully within the tight confines of the helicopter. “Do the best you can,” she soothed, and patted Angel’s slumped shoulder. Picking up a nearby blanket, Maya made her way over to Valerie. The teenager was white-faced and scared looking. She needed to be held. The paleness of her freckled face, the darkness in her eyes, told Maya that much. Maya would play nursemaid until they landed, and then Valerie would be turned over to awaiting U.S. government agents, who would whisk her into a private jet back to the U.S. and into her anxious father’s waiting arms, no worse for wear—at least on the outside.

Smiling gently as she approached, Maya slowly opened the blanket and slipped it around the girl’s huddled form. She knew that she looked dangerous and threatening to the teen in her black uniform with the pistol at her side. A smile helped to ease the panic she saw in the girl’s eyes. Valerie wasn’t hooked up to the communications system, so she was unaware of what was being said or what was going down. The teenager was like a stranger in a strange place—a place where she had almost died.

As she knelt down in front of the girl and wrapped the blanket around her, Maya introduced herself and said, “Valerie, you’re going home. You’re safe now. We’ll be landing in less than half an hour in Cusco.”

Sniffing, Valerie wiped her eyes with trembling fingers. “Th-thanks. But what about Captain Hamilton? H-he saved my life. Will he live?”

Maya nodded and gave her a gentle smile. “I hope so.”

“And his leg…oh, God…will he lose it?”

“Probably,” Maya said, “but I don’t know for sure.”

Breaking into sobs, Valerie buried her face in her arms, her knees drawn up tightly against her thin, trembling body. All Maya could do was slide her arm around the girl’s shoulders, pat her gently and let her cry.

Maya’s thoughts drifted back to Hamilton. Maybe Rolling Thunder could do something to save this heroic marine’s leg. She hoped so.

Chapter Two

“Is Captain Hamilton going to lose his leg?” Morgan Trayhern kept his voice low, but even he could hear the fear in it as he spoke with the bone surgeon, Dr. Jose Del Prado, in his office at the hospital in Cusco.

The physician, a wiry man in his early fifties, stood behind a simple mahogany desk in the spare white room. He was dressed in a long white coat, a stethoscope hanging out of his left pocket, and the report on Hamilton between his thin fingers. With a shrug, he said in stilted English, “I do not know…yet, Mr. Trayhern.” He frowned, stroking his thin gray mustache.

Morgan grimaced. As soon as he’d heard the cryptic message from the spook helicopter rescue crew that had Hamilton and the senator’s daughter safely aboard, Morgan had boarded the Perseus jet in Washington, D.C., and made a beeline for Cusco. Even though Captain Thane Hamilton was in the U.S. Marine Corps, and technically not working for him, the undercover assignment Hamilton had been on had been coordinated by Morgan and his company. Besides, Hamilton was a marine, as Morgan had once been himself. One never left a marine in the field. Not ever.

“I see….”

“No, señor, you do not.” Del Prado’s narrow face became intent. “I did not cut off his leg. I probably should have, to save him the agony he will surely endure not only physically, but emotionally. In the long term, it is my opinion that the officer will find that his leg is too painful to walk on. Right now, I am worried about long-term infection in his bones. If infection cannot be eradicated, he will lose his leg, anyway. Come, I will show you his X rays, so that you have a better understanding of what I did.”

Morgan glumly followed the surgeon down a crowded hallway. The hospital, which was located in the second largest city in Peru, was busy. Every social strata intermixed within the polished halls of white tile flooring and dull green walls—from personnel clothed in white uniforms and lab coats to visitors dressed either in the native costume of the Que’ro Indian people or in the silk suits and fashionable winter dresses of the wealthy.

In the X-ray room, Del Prado quickly put up a series of pictures in front of the light boxes.

“These show Captain Hamilton’s right leg.” He pointed a slender finger at one X ray in particular as Morgan, who was much taller peered over his shoulder.

“You can see, we have placed ten pins to try and get the bones to fuse back together.”

His mouth in a grim line, Morgan stared at the X ray. “Looks like a damned mess in there.”

Del Prado smiled a little. “Not exactly the medical terminology for it, but a good assessment, Señor Trayhern.”

“So, what’s next? May I transport Captain Hamilton in my jet, to continue his recovery at a stateside hospital?”

“Of course. He is stable now. You have a doctor on board to monitor him?”

Morgan nodded. “A trauma-trained emergency room physician. Yes.”

“Then my suggestion would be to wait another twelve hours. He just came out of surgery three hours ago. We have him in a private room, as you ordered. He has just come out of anesthesia and is semiconscious. Give him time to adjust first.”

“Would you suggest a bone specialist for him?”

“Of course. The infection in his bone, if it spreads, must be aggressively followed with antibiotics. And if the antibiotics do not oust it, then the infected part of the bone must be amputated. Otherwise, the infection will spread up his leg and eventually kill him.”

Morgan nodded and sighed. Then he straightened and looked down at the prim doctor. “If he were your patient, what would you do for him?” When Morgan saw the doctor’s blue eyes twinkle with laughter, he wondered what he’d said that was so amusing.

Del Prado’s thin mouth puckered. “How we practice medicine here in Peru is a little different than what my colleagues practice in the U.S.A., señor.”

“Humor me, Doctor. What would you prescribe? They say you’re the best hereabouts, so I’m very interested in your opinion and any ongoing therapy you’d recommend for Captain Hamilton. I’d like to see the man keep his leg. What’s your secret to doing just that?”

With a flourish, Del Prado said, “I would combine standard medical treatment with alternative intervention. Maggots will eat away any gangrenous flesh that is bound to occur, create new blood vessel beds and bring oxygen into the tissue so it will live instead of die. Here in Peru we also utilize homeopathy, an alternative medicine widely known in Europe as well. I would, if he were to stay here, call in one of our staff homeopaths to work with me on the captain’s behalf. We have found that homeopathy is an excellent support to traditional drug treatment, and the patient receives the best of both worlds. I would also suggest physical therapy along with massage. I know in your country that homeopathy and massage are not part of normal protocol for treating such a patient.” He shrugged his thin, proud shoulders, his eyes gleaming. “But you did ask me what I would do, señor.”

“So I did. Thank you, Doctor. You gave me the information I needed. I want Captain Hamilton to have the best chance of saving his leg.”

“Would you care for a referral to one of my norte americana colleagues who studied for a year down here with me on just such cases?”

Again, Morgan saw the twinkle in the man’s eyes. Realizing now that the doctor wasn’t laughing at him, but rather introducing him to knowledge he knew to be foreign to most Americans, Morgan grinned a little in turn. “Absolutely. Who do you suggest?”

“Dr. Jonathan Briggs, a doctor of osteopathy in Arizona who studied with our department a number of years ago. He’s familiar with our protocols in a case such as your friend Captain Hamilton. He is a miracle worker of sorts in complex cases such as this. I can give you his address, Señor Trayhern. He practices out of the Red Rock Hospital in Sedona, Arizona.”

Nodding, Morgan said, “This Dr. Briggs—will he use the same protocols you use?”

“Si.”

“You’re sure?”

With a terse laugh, Dr. Del Prado said, “Dr. Briggs is the man who created this protocol for us in the first place.”

Grin widening, Morgan said, “Thank you, Doctor. I’ll see to it that Captain Hamilton ends up in Dr. Briggs’s hospital.”

“Bueno. Good. You can go see Captain Hamilton now, señor. When you are ready, come to me and I will sign the captain’s release forms.” Del Prado escorted him out of the X ray room and into the hall. “Captain Hamilton is on floor four, post-op. You will find him in room 404.”

Morgan shook his hand and thanked him. Turning, he strode down the hall to the elevators carefully dodging swiftly moving nurses and orderlies.

Damn. Losing his leg will force Hamilton out of the Corps….

Morgan knew Hamilton’s personnel jacket by rote. He made it his business to know the background of any person working on one of his operations. Morgan had never met the captain personally, or any of his Recon team, which had come out of Camp Reed, California, but that didn’t matter. He knew the officer was a hard charger with an exceptional record of success on behind-the-lines missions. A man of action. Despite the fact that he was only twenty-seven years old, Hamilton was a marine of incredible accomplishment. And he was up for early promotion—major’s leaves, too. As Morgan got off the elevator on the fourth floor, he wrinkled his nose. The smell of antiseptic was strong here. Almost overpowering. The scent always got to him, reminding him of the time he had spent healing in a hospital in a foreign country.

Fueled by that miserable memory, Morgan swore to get Hamilton out of here and somewhere familiar—somewhere he could heal surrounded by those who supported and loved him, if possible. As he walked down the empty hall and viewed the brass numbers on each wooden door he passed, memory of his injuries and the difficult time he’d had dealing with them alone convinced him that he did not want the same scenario for Hamilton.

Finding the correct door, he quietly nudged it open. The private room was small, whitewashed, the blinds on the one window closed giving the room a grayish, depressing look. He saw the young Marine Corps officer lying on a bed covered with white blankets, his face almost matching the material that surrounded him. His eyes were closed. His right leg was in a removable cast, lifted up by a series of pulleys and hung about a foot off the bed.

The odor of antiseptic made Morgan’s throat tighten. Closing the door, he went over to the window, pulled open the blinds and swung the window outward. Fresh air from the city drifted in, though there was a hint of car pollution in it. He could hear the endless honking of horns below, but the sound was muted because the room was on the fourth floor. Despite everything, Morgan preferred a little fresh air to the choking smell of the hospital.

Turning, Morgan saw IVs in each of the officer’s limp arms. As he moved toward the marine’s bed, he saw his dark, spiky lashes flutter, his lids barely lifting to reveal murky green eyes with huge black pupils. From the way his eyes appeared, Hamilton was still coming out of the surgery anesthesia.

“Take it easy, Captain Hamilton,” Morgan said as he approached the bed. “I’m your contact, Morgan Trayhern. I got down here as soon as I could when I found out you’d survived the mission.” He lifted his hand and gently placed it against the white gown across the officer’s shoulder. “Welcome back to the land of the living, Son. You’re in Cusco, Peru, and you’ve just come out of surgery, three hours ago. How are you feeling? Any pain?”

Thane stared up at the tall man, noting vaguely the concern written across his broad, tense features. The silver gray at his temples shouted of his age, but to Thane, he looked a lot younger and very fit in the charcoal-gray pinstripe suit, impeccably pressed white shirt and conservative, dark blue silk tie. His brain still slow at processing, it took long moments for Thane to understand everything the man had said. The warm grip of the man’s hand on his shoulder, though, translated instantly, and Thane felt genuine care radiating from this stranger.

Opening his mouth, he realized it felt dry, like the Bolivian desert itself.

“Thirsty?”

He nodded slightly, feeling incredibly weak.

Morgan reached for a pitcher of water on the nearby stand, poured some into a cup and placed a straw into it. “Nurses been by to check on you yet?”

Thane sucked noisily on the straw. His mouth wasn’t exactly in working order. Grogginess and a floating feeling made his thoughts tumble loosely. Whispering his thanks for the glass of water, he lay back, exhausted by the simple act of drinking and swallowing.

“Don’t—remember…sir….” he said, his voice hoarse. His throat hurt. It was painful to swallow. Frowning, he looked around. There was an ache drifting up his right leg toward his thigh. What was wrong with it? Automatically, he weakly lifted his right arm to touch his right thigh beneath the thick blankets covering him. Frowning, he saw that his leg was lifted slightly and hanging from a series of pulleys at the end of the bed. It took him long moments to realize why his leg was hanging there like that.

And then, slowly, the reason for his leg injury came back to him. As the man beside his bed stood quietly, images of the mission formed before Thane’s shut eyes. The sounds. The loss of his team. The girl, Valerie. And…a woman’s face. She was dressed in a tight-fitting black flight uniform with absolutely no insignias anywhere on it. She hovered over him, a worried look on her beautiful face. A helicopter…yes, he remembered being in a shaking and shuddering helo. And his leg. No…. Somewhere in his drugged, spacy mind, Thane recalled another woman in a black uniform saying he was going to lose his leg. No! Panic surged through him. As it did, it began to wipe away his semiconscious state. The floating sensation was erased by the surge of adrenaline now flooding his bloodstream.

“Easy, Son….”

Thane opened his eyes. His leg was still attached. Wasn’t it? He was breathing hard now, his chest rising and falling with effort. Reaching out with his right arm, alarmed at how weak he was, he clawed at the covers near his knee.

“You still have your leg.”

Relief shuddered through him and Thane ceased his efforts to see if his heavily swathed and bandaged limb was really there or not. He couldn’t feel his leg, just the ache throbbing upward from it. A groan emitted from his parted lips as he fell back on the pillows. Heart pounding heavily in his chest, he knotted his right hand into a fist.

“My leg…” Thane felt Trayhern’s hand tighten briefly on his shoulder, as if to reassure him. He desperately needed that small act of kindness right now.

“From the after-action report I received, Captain Hamilton, they said a rocket launcher was fired. Apparently, according to the approaching helo rescue team, you dived behind a wall just in time. The rocket exploded into the rock just in front of you. I’m sure you don’t have memory of that—yet.”

Thane weakly moved his head from side to side. All he cared about, all he wanted, was to know that his right leg was still a part of him. The person on the helo had been wrong, thank goodness. He couldn’t stand the thought of not being whole. Not being able to go back to the Corps and be a career officer.

Nostrils flaring, he tried to settle down. His emotions, he discovered, were like the wild horses of Arizona that he’d once seen on the ranch where he’d grown up. Focusing his eyes on the somber looking man named Trayhern, he held his dark blue, penetrating gaze.

“My leg? What else?”

“According to the surgeon, they’re worried about infection.”

“Don’t let them take it….”

Morgan squeezed his shoulder again and felt the powerful muscles beneath the gown Hamilton wore. The man was in top shape. As a Recon Marine, he’d have to be. “We’re going to do everything in our power to see that you keep your limb, Captain.”

Panic seized Thane. “You mean…I might lose it?” No! No, that can’t happen! His heart raced with anguish as more and more of his drug-induced state was wiped out by another surge of adrenaline.

Morgan held up his hand. “I’ve got an idea, Captain. I need to make some phone calls. When I come back, I’ll have more answers and a plan of action for you. I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure you keep that leg.”

Thane closed his eyes. Pain was now drifting up his leg into his thigh, and knotting his gut. He bit back a groan. “I won’t lose my leg—sir,” he declared between clenched teeth. “Hell will freeze over before I allow anyone to cut it off….”

Morgan saw the dangerous glint come into the younger man’s eyes, the black pupils constricting and a look of stubbornness entering. Lifting his hand, Morgan said, “No one wants to see you walking on two legs more than me. I’ll be back, Captain.”

Thane was completely conscious the next time Morgan Trayhern came in, an hour later. The nurse had him sitting up, and had given him an IV drip of morphine for the after-surgery pain, but he was much more alert. The nausea in his stomach had abated, for which he was grateful. His gaze kept going back to his right leg. Dr. Del Prado had come in less than fifteen minutes ago and given him the prognosis. He didn’t leave much hope that he’d keep it in the long term. That scared Thane. Scared him a lot.

He looked up eagerly as Trayhern walked toward him. The man was ex-military, no question. And Hamilton knew the legend about him. Every marine did. The fact that Morgan had been a marine was a godsend. Marines always took care of their own, and it was apparent that Trayhern was going to do the same for him. That gave Thane hope despite the brutal words of the Peruvian doctor.

“Things are set into motion, Captain Hamilton,” Morgan informed him as he halted at the side of his bed.

Thane felt a semblance of relief and released a breath of air from between his tightly compressed lips. Somehow, Trayhern’s husky words, the look in his dark blue eyes, reassured him. “What’s in motion, sir?”

He smiled a little. “Several things. Just lie back and relax, Son, and I’ll fill you in on what we’re going to do.”

Morgan saw the hope in the man’s tense features. There was more color flooding into his face, making his cheeks look ruddy. The eaglelike alertness in his dark green eyes settled directly on him. Hope filtered through Morgan as he laid out the plan.

“I’m taking you stateside on a Perseus-owned jet that’s being readied at the Cusco airport. I have a trauma physician on board who will monitor you all the way back. We’re landing at the Sedona, Arizona, airport, where you’ll be met by an ambulance. You’ll be taken directly to the Red Rock Hospital. I’ve talked to their head bone doctor, Jonathan Briggs, who’s one of the best in the nation, according to Dr. Del Prado.” Morgan smiled a little, triumph in his tone. “I talked personally to Dr. Briggs just a little while ago and he’s willing to take you on as a patient. Not only that, but I’ve talked to your mother, Judy Hamilton, to let her know that you’re all right and you’re coming home. At this same hospital, they have one of the best physical therapists in the state. And a masseuse who works with this therapist. I’ve also contacted a local homeopath, Rachel Donovan-Cunningham, who has agreed to work with you on your case. Dr. Briggs has no problem using alternative medicine right along with standard treatment. He’ll be reviewing your records and X rays as soon as we get you to the hospital.”

Morgan saw the man’s eyes flare with shock, though he didn’t understand why. He added, “Dr. Briggs is one of the best bone surgeons in the U.S.A. The very top. I wanted you in the best of hands, Captain Hamilton. I didn’t want you put in a military hospital somewhere. I know you were probably expecting that, but since you’re on our payroll and it was our mission, you’re not obliged to go to military hospital. We pay for everything, if that’s what has you worried. I take care of my people, Captain. They get the best. And wherever the best are located, that’s where you go to heal. The fact that your hometown is Sedona, is a lucky stroke. But it doesn’t take away from the fact that Dr. Briggs is there and that’s where I’d put you, anyway.”

Morgan smiled a little, pleased with the way things were falling into place. “Besides, your mother was thrilled with the idea that you would be so close to home. In my experience, having family around, people who love you, is an asset in a long-term war of recovery, Captain. No one can guarantee you’ll keep your leg—yet. And I know the importance of family, loved ones and friends in a battle like this. All it can do is help you in the long run.”

Stunned, Thane lay there taking it all in. He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. What the hell was he going to do? Knotting the material beneath his hands, he stared straight ahead. Hurt pumped through his chest with every beat of his heart. Home. Not exactly a word that he jumped up and down with joy over. And his mother…

His throat constricted as he rasped, “Sir, with all due respect, I don’t need home in order to keep my leg.”

Scowling, Morgan heard the edge in the man’s low tone. He saw a flicker of emotion in his narrowed green eyes. Sensing something was wrong, Morgan stood there for a moment digesting the officer’s tightly spoken words.

“Captain, I was once badly injured. When I came to, I was in a foreign hospital surrounded by people who spoke a language I didn’t understand. I had no one. No family. No friends. I remember how alone I felt. How I cried at night in the darkness of that ward. For me, the pain of that was a helluva lot worse than the pain in my head and the rest of my body from the wounds I sustained. Looking back on that period of my life, I’m sure I’d have recovered far more quickly than I actually did, if I’d had people who loved me around.”

Thane swallowed hard. Pain was arcing through his heart. It felt like a fist was surrounding the organ and squeezing it to death. His nostrils flared. He tried to squelch his feelings. It was no use. “There’s got to be another bone doctor in the U.S. Isn’t there, sir?”

Morgan heard the desperation in the officer’s tone, saw it clearly in his taut expression. “Dr. Briggs is the best in the country. I want you in his hands.”

Dammit! “Then, sir, I’ll remain at the military hospital at Camp Reed, instead.”

Tipping his head slightly, Morgan tried to ferret out the truth behind the marine’s tautly strung words. “When you have a home? A ranch to go to?” There was disbelief in his tone. He saw Hamilton struggle mightily with anger that flashed momentarily in his eyes. His mouth thinned considerably.

“You spoke to my mother, sir?”

The words were icy.

Disgruntled, Morgan said, “Yes. Why?”

“And she was ready to receive me with open arms?” Thane couldn’t help the sarcasm dripping out of his mouth.

Uneasy, Morgan said, “Yes. She was, first of all, relieved that you were alive. And when I told her of my plan, she was the one who suggested that she could have your room turned into a makeshift hospital room once you are released from the Red Rock facility. In fact, she said her part-time housekeeper is working on the room as we speak. Clearly, you’re upset, Captain. Care to clue me in on what’s going down here?”

Anger drifted through Thane. His fists unknotted. He wiped the gathering beads of sweat from his furrowed forehead with a weak swipe of his right hand. Breathing hard, he glared up at Trayhern.

“Family differences, sir.”

Morgan knew that whatever the problems, they weren’t any of his business. “Your mother gave no hint of any ‘problems,’ Captain. And based upon that, one of my assistants is working directly with her to get your old bedroom ready to receive you when you get out of the hospital.”

“Sir…I’ll go anywhere other than home when I get out of the hospital.” Thane nailed Morgan with a deadly look. “Anywhere but there.”

Morgan grimaced. Great. He hadn’t anticipated this. “I’ll see what I can do, Captain. No guarantees, however. Dr. Del Prado made it clear to me that you were going to need twenty-four hour care once you were out of the hospital. I happen to think that home is a helluva lot better place than some apartment. Besides, you’re going to need a lot of help. Your mother said that the woman who works for her part-time also works at the hospital.”