Read Online Eye for an Eye, an (Heroes of Quantico Book #2): A Novel by Irene Hannon - Free Book Online

teenage boy bleeding in his arms, but Emily.
    “I’ll cover for you if you want to grab some coffee,” Coop told the agent.
    “Thanks. I wouldn’t mind stretching my legs a little.”
    As Coop settled into the chair, he nodded toward the closed door. “Go to work. We need names.”
    With a nod, Mark cracked the door. The lights were off, and instead of knocking he moved quietly into the dim room. Emily was sleeping, her head turned to one side, her face in shadows.
    While he’d admired her trim, toned figure yesterday, today she looked fragile and vulnerable beneath the white sheet outlining her slight body.
    Unwilling to wake her after her rough night, Mark rejoined Coop.
    “She’s sleeping.”
    “No problem. My time is your time.”
    “You know, you’re going to be bored out of your mind in forty-eight hours. You didn’t join the HRT to be a bodyguard.”
    “You might be surprised. I’m mellowing with age.”
    While Coop’s comment was delivered with a grin, there was more than a hint of truth to it, Mark realized. Since meeting and marrying Monica—and somehow rediscovering his faith along the way—Coop had been more laid-back. More content.
    It hadn’t dulled his on-the-job skills, but Mark sensed he no longer craved the adrenaline rush of tactical operations that had once been an outlet for his restless energy.
    “I think I’ll give Steve a call and—”
    A sudden, sharp cry from inside the room brought Coop instantly to his feet. On instinct, both men drew their guns as Mark pushed through the door.
    Light from the hallway spilled into the room as the heavy metal door slammed against the wall, but it took no more than one quick glance to determine the cause of Emily’s alarm. Blinking against the sudden light, she was sitting up, her eyes wide with terror, her chest heaving.
    They were holstering their guns as the third agent joined them from behind after sprinting down the hall.
    “I went through this drill twice last night,” he told them quietly.
    As Mark moved beside Emily, the other two agents exited in silence. He sat on the edge of the bed and smoothed the hair away from her damp face, his gaze assessing. Her pallor was unsettling, and the dark smudges beneath her eyes were mute testimony to her difficult night.
    She groped for his hand and squeezed his fingers, her grip strengthened by residual terror. “I . . . I’m sorry. I had a bad dream.”
    “No need to apologize. I’d be more surprised if you didn’t have a nightmare or two.” Or three. Or thirty.
    He wished he could tell her there was a way to stop the dreams.
    But if there was, he hadn’t found it yet. The only remedy the counselor had offered was the distance from the event that the passage of time would bring.
    It took several minutes for her respiration to moderate, and once it did, he helped her ease back down against the pillow.
    She managed a shaky smile. “I’ll be okay once I’m in familiar surroundings and life gets back to normal.”
    The normal part wouldn’t be happening in the next few days.
    But Mark saw no reason to tell her that yet. She’d find out soon enough.
    “When are you getting sprung?” He stroked his thumb over her knuckles.
    As if on cue, the surgeon entered. Mark rose and introduced himself.
    “You have a patient who’s very anxious to go home,” he told the man.
    “Can’t say I blame her.” He addressed his next comment to Emily. “Hospitals are for sick people. You don’t qualify. Your blood pressure is back to normal, and you aren’t running a fever.”
    “How bad was the damage?” Emily asked.
    “You were lucky. The bullet went through cleanly. It did clip a large vein, which accounted for the heavy bleeding, but managed to miss major nerves and muscles. Other than a small scar at the entry site and a larger one at the exit site, you shouldn’t have any lasting effects.” He moved closer to the bed. “If everything looks okay, we’ll change the dressing and you’re