Despite trying to fight it, he was slipping into another drug-induced sleep.
Her breath warmed his ear. “I love you, Ash. I always have and I always will. Don’t you dare die on me.”
THREE WEEKS LATER, Maverick pushed out of bed, wincing at the knife-like pain shooting down his leg. The pain was a godsend because it confirmed he could feel.
While he was no stranger to beat up muscles, constant bruises, and achy joints, he struggled to absorb so much discomfort in so many places. Pushing himself to his physical limit was something he loved doing, but the challenges he faced were unlike anything he’d ever experienced before.
And like everything else in his life, he bore the weight without complaint. He gripped the walker for support and ambled out of the hospital room and down the hallway. He forced himself to do this five times daily, though he struggled come nightfall. But he could feel slight improvements, which spurred him to push harder.
Gunner walked around the corner and grinned. “Looking good, my man.”
When at home, Gunner kept his Afro short and his facial hair closely cropped. He hadn’t shaved since they’d arrived and looked almost as wild as Maverick.
Normally, Maverick would slap his friend and fellow ex-SEAL on the back, but he wasn’t confident enough to let go of the walker, so he clung to the aluminum and smiled. “One step at a time. You ready to get out of here?”
Gunner broke eye contact.
“Don’t go there,” Maverick said. “It’s time for you to go. Your family misses you. Plus, Penelope said she needs help running ThunderStrike.”
“I hate to leave you. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”
“Right back atcha.” Maverick wanted to throw an arm around him, but the stabbing pain down his leg reminded him to clutch the support device. “Nurse Ratched informed me that I’m getting promoted to the rehab facility. Probably getting your empty bed. Now, you get your ass home and don’t look back.”
“I can grab you a cell phone before my flight leaves.”
Per ThunderStrike protocol, overseas missions were completed without them. If a mission went wrong, teams couldn’t risk top-secret emails or contact information being made available to their captors.
“Hell, no.” Maverick resumed his walking and Gunner fell in line beside him. “My phone never stopped ringing all the damn time. Quiet is good.” Truth was, he hated that he wasn’t needed. Despised that someone wasn’t calling him for something. Being at the top of everyone’s list was something Maverick craved. He wanted to be the one everyone thought of when they needed someone to help them out.
But what could he do from his hospital bed? In truth, he was grateful the visits had stopped. No one needed to see him like this. “Mayhem can wait another week or two.”
Gunner threw an arm around him. “‘Thanks for saving my life’ sounds pathetic. I owe you one.”
“We’re even, my friend. You saved mine, too.” Maverick stopped at the elevator bank. “Your lung is healed. You’re well. Now get outta here. I’ll call you when they free me from the castle.”
Laughing, Gunner stepped into a waiting elevator. “Get better.” The doors closed.
“Damn, I wish that was me.” Fighting through the pain, Maverick ambled onward, determined to get healthy.
4
A H E R O ’ S W E L C O M E
I need a shave, a shower, and a fuck. Released after forty-five days in the Frankfurt hospital, getting laid was at the top of Maverick’s list.
The first two weeks, Maverick couldn’t shake the haze from the pain meds. The past thirty days, he’d pushed through his limitations, determined to get stronger. The physical therapy had been grueling. He fought for every step, gritted through the obstacles, refusing to go easy on himself.
The payoff?
Returning home three days ahead of schedule. He couldn’t fucking wait.
The hospital doc had told him to go easy, continue with his physical therapy, and pay attention to the various types of pain.
“Some are good, others not,” said his doctor.
As far as Maverick could tell, all pain sucked.
The only things that didn’t hurt were his self-induced orgasms. Try as he might, nobody at that facility would give him a hand. Literally.
