The Departed

shit—just give me a simple yes or no.”
    The doctor appeared just then and though her smile was every bit as tired as the nurse’s, her face wasn’t quite so strained. “She came through the surgery and if you want to call her friends to donate blood, I’m all for that. She’s going to need it. But she’s a strong woman.”
    As his brain processed that information, he almost hit the floor. As it was, it took all he had just to stay standing.
    Relief, Taylor realized, could be very, very painful.

CHAPTER THREE
    THE last person Dez expected to see standing at the door to her hospital room was her boss. She didn’t know exactly why she was so surprised to see him. He’d made damn sure she stayed in the hospital several days longer than she needed to, she was sure, and he had haunted the damn halls.
    But why he was here now ?
    In his hot and sexy flesh…although his version of hot and sexy was actually the cool and polished version. His suit was a little too nice for the typical agent and his shoes were a little too pricey—custom-made, she’d bet. He could wear a suit like nobody’s business, that was for damn sure.
    Damn it, he was so put together. Looking at him just made her think about how much fun it might be to see what it would take to make him come apart. And those were thoughts she just didn’t need in her head. Down, girl , she told herself as she eased up in the bed.
    Frowning at him, she asked, “What are you doing here?”
    “Taking you home.” He flicked a glance at his watch and then looked at her. “Are you ready?”
    “Why are you taking me home?”
    “Because you need somebody to drive you,” he said.
    She resisted, just barely, the childish urge to stick her tongue out at him. Taylor Jones brought out all sorts of strange impulses. Childish ones. Wanton ones. Erotic ones. She’d long since adjusted to that very disturbing fact, but adjusting to it didn’t make it any easier to fight.
    Sighing, she asked, “Doesn’t the boss have anything better to do than play chauffeur?”
    “Don’t worry. I didn’t bring the limo.” He came into the room and paused to study the neat stack of her belongings. “Has the nurse been in to take care of your discharge?”
    “Hell, no.” She scowled. “I think they suspect I’ll sneak out the door and try to hitchhike. Then they’d have to deal with you.” Absently, she reached up and touched the bandage on her neck, itching to take it off and look at the damage. But she wasn’t doing it until she was in the privacy of her own home. The nurses around here made Nurse Ratched look like a pushover.
    She shot Taylor a narrow glance. Probably had something to do with her boss. She’d heard rumors he’d terrorized the staff. He was good about that. He terrorized everybody.
    “But now that you’re here…” She leaned over and grabbed the call light.
    She didn’t bother to wipe her smirk off her face as the nurse appeared in under five minutes with all the paperwork, shooting Taylor’s back a dark look before blanking her expression. Yeah, Taylor was definitely part of the reason the nurses were watching over her like she was in jail or something.
    Bully, she thought, disturbed by the affection she felt for him.
    She was just plain disturbed and she would be until she got the hell out of the hospital. Too much unrest in a place like this.
    There weren’t any active souls looking for her help that she could see, but she could feel the echo of their passing and it was like somebody was constantly stroking her spine with icy cold fingers. She was cold, damn it, very cold, and she wanted nothing more than to be out of here and snug in her own house, where she could be warm again. Nice, new house, no death there, never touched by anything but her presence and the presence of the builders, her friends. All hers. No lingering touches or echoes or shadows.
    Damn it, she wanted to be home.
    “Special Agent Lincoln, are you listening?”
    Dez rolled her eyes and jerked her attention back to the paperwork the nurse had in front of her. She signed here, initialed there, and voiced her understanding over changing the dressing and when she was supposed to see her doctor for follow-up; her eyes started to glaze over with all the blathering all the medical types like to hand out.
    Who in the hell needed sleeping pills? Just stick the insomniac in a room with a nurse doing discharge orders. That would knock out anybody.
    “So, do you have any