With a mighty ex hale he collapsed back onto the bed. She didn’t really need to see the rest of his face. His eyes said it all. He had no patience for this sort of thing.
When she’d tucked the thermometer into his mouth, she moved to the door and asked Agent Stark to send for an over-the-counter tonic for stomach cramps. He hadn’t mentioned any other is sues that generally went hand-in-hand with cramps, but she didn’t see any reason to take the risk. The medication she requested would cover either or both symptoms.
Hennessey sat on the edge of the bed, the thermometer protruding from his lips, and he looked exactly like a petulant child with an amazingly grown-up body. And a layer of gauze concealing the majority of his face.
She thought of the agent who’d died in the past twenty-four hours and she prayed that her efforts wouldn’t be too little too late. She’d taken an oath to save lives. Had her support of the CIA helped or hurt? She had thought her work would save them from this very fate and now it seemed those she had helped were on a list marked for death.
How could that be?
It didn’t make sense.
“Nor mal,” she commented aloud after reading the thermometer. She set the old-fashioned instrument on the bed side table next to her bag. “Any other symptoms.”
“No.” He groaned. “At least not yet.”
“Let me have a look at your face.” She’d changed his band ages this morning and all had looked well enough. Still some redness and swelling, but that was perfectly nor mal.
“My face isn’t the problem.” He pushed her hands away. “It’s my gut.”
Worry gnawing at her, she reached into her bag and removed her stethoscope and blood pressure cuff. She saw no reason to take chances.
Hennessey swore but she ignored him. BP was only slightly elevated. The thrashing around in the bed and any sort of pain could be responsible for that.
She listened to his heart and lungs. Nothing out of the ordinary. His heart sounded strong and steady.
As she put the cuff and stethoscope away he said, “I told you I was fine.”
“Yes, you did,” she agreed. “But I would be remiss in my duties if I didn’t double-check.”
He made a sound that loudly telegraphed his doubt of her motives. “You probably just wanted an excuse to see me in my shorts,” he said glibly.
Elizabeth tamped down her first response of annoyance and thought about that remark for a moment. Deciding he wasn’t the only one who could throw curves, she sat down beside him. Tension went through him instantly, stiffening his shoulders and making the muscle in his jaw flex.
“Actually, Agent Hennessey, I’ve already seen most of you the day of your surgery.” She produced a smile at his narrowed gaze. “Some times when they shift a patient from the surgical gurney sheets drop and gowns get shoved up around waists.” As true as her statement was, it hadn’t happened with him but he didn’t have to know that. “But don’t worry,” she assured him, “the only person who laughed was the nurse, but don’t tell her I told you.”
Elizabeth would have given any thing to see his face just then. If the red rushing up his neck was any indication, his whole face was most likely beet-red.
She couldn’t torture him too long. He did have a problem. “I’m kid ding, Hennessey.”
He moved his head slowly from side to side but didn’t look at her. “Very good, Doc, you might get the hang of this after all.”
Feeling guilty for her bad joke, she urged him back into bed and tucked the sheet properly around him. Minutes later Stark arrived with the medication. Elizabeth thanked him and gave Hennessey the proper dose.
She settled into the chair near the bed side table and waited to see if the medication would work.
“You should get some sleep, Doc,” he said, finally meeting her gaze. “If I need any more I can handle it.” He gestured to the bottle she’d left on the table next to her bag.
“That’s all right, Hennessey. You’re my patient. I think I’d be more comfortable keeping an eye on you for a while.”
Resigned to his fate, he heaved a put-upon sigh and closed his eyes.
Elizabeth glanced at the clock—two-thirty. She should go back to bed, but she doubted she would sleep now. Not after that awful dream and not with Hennessey uncomfortable.
She watched him try to lie still, his hand on his stomach, and she wished there was a way to make the medicine work faster, but there wasn’t. It would take ten to twenty minutes. She thought about what they’d eaten for dinner and wondered why she wasn’t sick. Then again maybe she would be before the night was through.
As if the thought had some how stirred some part of her that had still been sleeping, her stomach clenched painfully then roiled threateningly.
She recognized the warning immediately and reached for the bottle to down a dose.
“You, too?”
Her gaze met Hennessey’s as she twisted the cap back onto the bottle. “Guess so.” She grimaced, as much from the yucky taste as from another knot of discomfort.