“I’m Dr. Felice Glover,” the woman said. “What’s the status of the specimen?”

“Contained at this point,” Wes said, handing over the chest. “I don’t know if we have a viable virus. I doubt it’s been kept at optimal conditions since it went missing from the original lab. If the vial is compromised, widespread contamination isn’t likely, but we’re taking precautions.”

The scientist nodded briskly. “We’ll know soon enough about exposure risks. We’ll scan the container for any leaks and I’ll call you and Director Roberts.”

“Thank you,” Wes said, feeling caught up in the surreal. They were casually discussing a potentially lethal contagion while Evyn was somewhere, injured, possibly seriously. “I need to go. I’m sorry.”

“I think the risk is slight, but keep the team in the vehicle until I report. It’s as good as an isolation room.”

“Roger that.”

Wes hurried away, wondering if she’d ever find out what she’d just delivered. Her job was done—some might consider she had no further need to know. She jabbed the elevator button, rocked impatiently on her heels during the one floor trip, and strode rapidly outside. The instant she stepped out of the building, she called Cameron Roberts.

“Roberts.”

“How is she?”

“We’re at George Washington. The docs are looking at her now. They’re saying guarded condition.”

Which meant anything from walking wounded to potentially serious. “Can I talk to her?”

“They threw us all out, but she’s awake—I know that much.”

Relief rushed through her so powerfully Wes staggered. She braced one hand against the rough brick of the building and lowered her head, drawing a deep breath until the churning turmoil settled a little. “If they let you in to see her, tell her…Tell her I’m on my way.”

“I’ll do that.”

“The specimen is secure.”

“I had no doubt of that,” Roberts said. “I’ll be with her until you get here.”

“Thank you.” Wes jogged to the SUV and said to the agent driving, “George Washington University Hospital, as quick as you can.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Wes settled in the back and closed her eyes. Her part of the mission was done, and all that mattered was Evyn.

*

The glass door to the cubicle slid back and the curtain twitched aside. The doctor, a harried guy in rumpled scrubs and a two-days’ growth of beard, walked in. He looked even more tired out of the space suit.

“I guess I’m not buggy, huh?” Evyn said.

“Your boss says only universal infection precautions are necessary, and we use those with everyone.”

“Good.” Evyn relaxed, the tight spring of anxiety coiled in her belly loosening. Wes must be okay if they’d determined the team wasn’t at risk from the virus. “So—I’m out of here?”

“Not quite. The bullet just grazed the soft tissue at the top of your shoulder.” He taped a rectangular bandage on the top of Evyn’s shoulder. “You’ll get some swelling in your arm and a fair amount of pain. An overnight stay and a pain pump—”

“No,” Evyn said. “I’m not staying.”

“I’d recommend it.”

“But you’re not requiring it?”

He sighed and shook his head. “Leave the bandage on for twenty-four hours. The nurses will give you a prescription for antibiotics and pain pills when you’re discharged.”

“Thanks,” Evyn said, stretching for her shirt draped on the nearby chair. She winced at the burn in her shoulder and stopped. She didn’t like being naked, but she didn’t want to give the guy any reason to restrict her activities. “When can I go back to work?”

“You’ll need to have a wound check in forty-eight hours—you can come back here, or—”

“That’s okay. I’ll see my own doctor.” She almost smiled at the thought of just how true that statement was, but the pleasure faded quickly. Wes had been the one closest to the virus. Maybe she’d been exposed, but the rest of them were in the clear. She had to get out of here and find out what was going on. She needed to see Wes. “So—we’re done? Thanks for everything.”

He looked up from the chart. “I’d rather you see a surgeon. General medical doctors don’t really have the experience to evaluate this kind of wound.”

“She’s not—”

The curtains parted and Wes walked in. She wasn’t in uniform, but then she never needed to be to look like she was in command. Her eyes were stormy and fierce, fixed on Evyn. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get here.”

“I’m okay,” Evyn said immediately. “It was nothing. A scratch.”

“A little more than that,” the emergency physician said, studying Wes. “You are?”

“Captain Wesley Masters—chief of the White House Medical Unit.” Wes glanced at Evyn. “And her partner.”

“Oh, well then.” He tucked the chart under his arm and pushed his pen into the ink-stained pocket of his wrinkled lab coat. “I guess you can do the follow-up.”

“I think I can handle that. Thanks for taking care of her.” Wes cupped Evyn’s face, brushed a thumb over her cheek. The ER physician disappeared through the curtains and Wes leaned forward and kissed Evyn softly. “Now, how are you really doing?”

“I’m good. Even better now.” Evyn circled Wes’s wrist and pressed Wes’s palm to her face to reassure Wes, and herself. “I’d feel even better with my shirt on.”

Laughing, Wes plucked the shirt from the chair, and the laughter died. Blood stained the shoulder and collar. Her hands trembled. Today, Evyn had been lucky. The next time, she might not be.

“You know it always looks worse than it is,” Evyn said softly.

“Right.” Wes held up the shirt. “This will have to do until we get you home and into something clean.”

“I’m not going home,” Evyn said. “I want to get back to base for a sitrep. Roberts left a while ago to interrogate the suspects. Tom needs to be briefed, and—”

“Evyn,” Wes murmured, “you’ve been shot, you’ve been given pain medication, and you need to rest. You’re on sick leave as of now.”

“What? You can’t—” Evyn stared, her brow furrowing. “Hell, you can.”

Wes said nothing, waiting for the anger and the resentment. They’d had so little time to find their personal balance and now they might never be able to. She had to pull rank—she had a duty to Evyn, to the president, to Evyn’s team—she had to take care of her, no matter the cost.

“You better like cats.”

“What?” Wes asked.

“Cats. I come with a cat. And if I’m going home, so are you. As least until Roberts wants you back to debrief.”

“You want me to drive you home?” Wes couldn’t quite grasp what Evyn was saying. “You’re not pissed?”

“Sure I am. I don’t get why you don’t appreciate how superhuman I am. After all, I’m a United States Secret Service Agent.”

Wes smothered a smile. Evyn’s pupils were pinpoints. The medication was kicking in. “You are. And a stellar one.”

“So—you’re coming home with me, then?”

“I am.” Wes held up Evyn’s shirt. “This first.”

Evyn slid her good arm into the sleeve, and Wes helped her thread the other sleeve over her injured left arm.

“We alone?”

“Yes.”

“I take it everything’s all right with the package? The doc ditched his suits.”

Wes nodded. “I called when I got the preliminary from the lab on my way in. The vial is intact.”

“You weren’t compromised out in the field?”

“No. I’ll take culture specimens from everyone to be complete, but I think we’re all in the clear thanks to your quick work out there.”

Evyn started to shrug, then grimaced. Her shoulder burned. “Not quite quick enough. I wasn’t expecting the gun, but I guess I should’ve been. She’s military, after all. And on a mission.”

“I would’ve preferred if you hadn’t used your body to stop the bullet.” Wes carefully buttoned Evyn’s shirt. She knew the risks of Evyn’s job, accepted them, knew the overwhelming odds were she would be safe, but there was always the threat that she would be hurt. Wes gripped the material harder, hiding the tremor in her hands. She kissed Evyn again. “You did well, all the same.”

“Huh. Maybe.”

Evyn pushed off the treatment table and swayed on her feet. “I was watching the hand on the bag—I was afraid she’d pull the virus out and toss the vial into the street as a diversion. It gave her just enough time to get the gun out. Dumb rookie move.”

“Instinct. That’s what training is all about, right?” Wes slid her arm around Evyn’s waist. Evyn might not need the support, but she needed to touch her. Needed to be sure she was alive and well and hers. “I love you.”

Evyn rested her head on Wes’s shoulder, holding on to her with her good arm. “I love you too. Sorry if I gave you a scare.”

“You did what you had to do. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you out there.”

“You were where you needed to be, doing what needed to be done.” Evyn squeezed her. “Just like now. You’re here when I really need you.”

“I always will be,” Wes promised.

“You haven’t met my cat yet.”

Wes laughed and softly kissed her. “Then we should go.”

“Yeah.” Evyn pressed her face to Wes’s neck. “I want you, you know. Today. Every day. Feels good. Really good.”

“I know. I’ll be here.”

Evyn sighed. “So let’s go home.”

Chapter Thirty-four

Derrick Sullivan slipped into the parlor and signaled discreetly to Russo.

Russo smiled at the bejeweled, pencil-thin blonde by his side, grateful for the interruption. He only suffered her vacuous conversation because her husband was one of his largest campaign donors. “Will you excuse me, Mrs. Winthrop?”

She pouted slightly. “Only if you promise to return.”

“As soon as I possibly can—I want to hear more about those famous racehorses of yours.”

She brightened and fluttered her thick lashes. “I can’t wait.”