The Christmas Target. Shirlee McCoy
looked like she was trying to think of a suitable response, her brow furrowed as if she couldn’t quite come up with the words.
Chance figured no response was necessary.
“Big deal or not, Beatrice isn’t to have any visitors unless they’re approved by the police or by Stella. You know that, right?”
“I’m not stupid.”
“It’s not about stupidity. It’s about knowledge. Were you informed?”
“Yes.”
“Then you’ll understand that Stella is going to have to say goodbye for now. She wants to see her grandmother, and—”
“I’m not invited?” Karen smiled, but there was something hard in her eyes. “No need to hit me over the head with it.”
“I’m not trying to. I just want to make certain we’re all clear on the rules.”
“Because you’re so big on them,” Stella murmured, and he smiled.
She was right.
But that was why they got along so well.
“Only when they matter. We’ll see you when we come out,” he said, pushing the chair past Karen.
He wasn’t asking permission, and he didn’t wait for a response. He wanted Stella to see her grandmother, and then he wanted her back in the hospital bed.
She was two shades too pale, red hair falling lank against her neck and cheeks. Her hand trembled as she tucked a strand behind her ear, and he wanted to turn the chair around and go straight back to her room.
He knew Stella, though.
She’d find her way back.
With or without him.
Family was everything.
She’d told him that dozens of times when they were on a mission together. She’d proven how much she meant it when she’d tried to give up her job to take care of her grandmother. Chance hadn’t been able to let her go. She was too valuable a team member. And the team was its own sort of family.
He pushed her through the hallway of the ICU, Karen following along behind despite the fact that he’d made it really clear that she wasn’t going in Beatrice’s room. She looked well-meaning enough, but there was a glimmer in her dark eyes that bothered him. A little bit of excitement that shouldn’t be there. He’d seen it before—some otherwise harmless person determined to get the juiciest bit of gossip and spread it to the four corners of the earth.
He imagined she had a nice little group of friends that she’d love to give all the details to. She’d be the star, have her five minutes of fame because she’d brushed shoulders with a couple of people who’d almost died.
She wasn’t getting any information from him, and he doubted Stella would share anything. Not if she was thinking clearly.
Several closed doors lined the hall. Boone was in front of one, sitting in a chair, his legs stretched out, the bag of cookies in his hand. He’d eaten half. Chance was surprised he hadn’t eaten them all.
“I see you finally made it up here,” he said, his gaze on Stella. “You look like death warmed over, Silverstone.”
“Thanks.”
“It wasn’t a compliment. It was a hint that you should go back to bed.” His gaze shifted to Karen, and he frowned. “Are you here to try to kick me out again, Karen?” he asked, and the young woman blushed.
“I wasn’t trying to kick you out. I just didn’t understand why you were sitting here.”
“I told you why,” he said with typical Boone patience. The guy was almost never bothered by anything or anyone. “Next thing I knew, hospital security was trying to kick me to the curb.”
“I know, but—”
“Karen,” Stella cut in. “I appreciate you wanting to visit with Beatrice. Tomorrow will probably be a better day.”
It was a dismissal, and Karen seemed to get it.
Finally.
She patted Stella’s shoulder. “Of course. If you need anything, you know how to reach me. I have classes tomorrow and Friday, but I’m free Saturday and Sunday if you want me to clean the house and do some shopping.”
“I’ll let you know.”
“I can also stay here with Beatrice, if you need me to.”
“I think we’ve got everything under control.” The words were kind and a lot more patient than was typical of Stella.
“Okay. Great. Good. Like I said, you know how to reach me.” Karen hurried off, and Stella sighed.
“She means well,” she said, and Chance wasn’t sure if the words were a reminder to herself or information for him and Boone.
“It didn’t feel like it when security was trying to strong-arm me out of here,” Boone muttered, pulling a cookie from the bag. “I nearly lost these babies fighting for my right to stay.”
“I’m sorry she called security on you, Boone.”
“Not your fault.” He stood, brushed crumbs from his lap. “If you two are going to be in there for a few minutes, I’m going to run and get coffee. Maybe see how the cafeteria food looks. You want anything?”
“Juice. Orange. And a black coffee,” Chance responded. He’d drink the coffee, and hopefully he could convince Stella to drink the juice. She still looked shaky, and that worried him. She also looked thinner than she had the last time he’d seen her. A month ago. Maybe a little longer than that. She’d come to DC to pick up a computer system that she could use for work.
She’d said she was fine, that her grandmother was fine, that things were going well. He’d heard a lot that she hadn’t said. Or maybe he’d just assumed that things weren’t as easy as she claimed, that life wasn’t quite as fine as she was making it out to be, because that’s the way Stella was.
She didn’t need help.
She didn’t want it.
Everything was always okay and fine and good.
When a guy got too close, when he asked too many questions, she backed off and walked away.
He’d watched it happen over and over again.
He’d experienced it firsthand.
She wasn’t the kind of woman who wanted more than an easy and light relationship. She didn’t want to share her soul. That’s what she’d told him on their last date when he’d asked about her family, about the accident that had taken them from her.
I don’t go out to dinner with a guy so I can share my soul with him. Sharing a meal is good enough.
He’d told her that he only ever wanted to be with someone who could share every part of herself.
That was it.
A bad ending to a story that should have had a great one. He and Stella had a lot in common. They clicked in a way he’d never clicked with any other woman. He could have made a life with her, but he wasn’t going to insist. He wasn’t going to beg. He wasn’t going to do anything but give her exactly what she’d said she wanted.
“You want anything, Stella?” Boone asked, calling her by her first name. Something he almost never did.
That seemed to shake her out of whatever stupor she’d fallen into.
She frowned, locking the brake on the wheelchair and getting to her feet. “Just to see my grandmother.”
“You go do that. I won’t be long,” Boone continued, meeting Chance’s eyes. “I’ll call Simon and let him know what’s going on here.”
“See