Scent of Danger

"The kind the hospital lab gives you when you start to black out. It's embarrassing to admit, but I'm a baby when it comes to needles. Also, my blood pressure tends to be on the low side of normal. So when it comes to anything more than a couple of vials, I tend to get woozy."

The implication struck home, and Dylan's gaze fell to the inside of her forearm, where a cotton ball was pressed against the crease, held in place by a Band-Aid. "You donated blood."

She nodded. "I thought it was a good idea. As you know, Carson and I are the same blood type. The hospital's banking my blood specifically for him, just in case he needs it." She looked like she wanted to say more, then thought better of it.

Dylan caught on right away. And he prayed his assumption was fact and not a pipe dream. "Carson knows about the dialysis and the possibility of needing a kidney transplant," he said pointedly. "So there's no need to avoid talking about it."

"I see. Well, I'm glad I don't have to dance around the subject. I'll just tell you both that the lab took a separate blood sample to use for tissue-typing. We'll have the results in about a week."

"Wait a minute," Carson barked.

Sabrina's head came up, and she eyed Carson warily.

Dylan turned toward him, too, although he wasn't the least bit surprised by his friend's response. In fact, he'd been expecting this. And if Sabrina was expecting otherwise, if she'd anticipated some big, emotional scene, she was about to be surprised for the second time.

Addressing the fundamentals first, exploring the benefits of personal gain second, that was Carson's way. And given his newfound sense of responsibility when it came to Sabrina, and the direct part he'd played in triggering her current crisis, he wasn't going to make this easy for her.

"Yes?" Sabrina inquired.

"Let's start with your family.... Do they know about this?" Carson's hard stare pinned her to the chair.

Sabrina wasn't rattled. Nor did she dodge the question. "I spoke to my mother a little while ago. She'd already guessed. Now comes the harder part. She has to tell my grandparents. After that, we'll deal with the fallout. Anything else?"

"Yeah. Health risks—yours. Privacy invasion—also yours. Screwing up a lot of lives, and a lot of relationships—yours again... Listen, Sabrina, I don't like this… You're not just opting to—"

"I already have," she interrupted. "It's my choice to make, not yours. Now, stop getting yourself all worked up, or I'll call Dr. Radison and get him back here."

"He left the hospital, remember?"

"I have his beeper number."

"You can't use it There's no emergency."

"I'll lie."

Carson scowled. "You're a real ball-breaker, aren't you?"

"I wonder who I take after," was her wry response. She waved away his continuing protests. "We're getting ahead of ourselves. This tissue-typing is more complicated than it sounds. Besides checking for common genes, they have to do a crossmatch test, see if your immune system has produced any antibodies that might kill off my kidney. Until that's determined, we won't know if I'm a compatible donor. Let's save the arguing for afterward."

"Does that mean that if all systems are go you'll agree to be the transplant donor?" Dylan demanded. "Have you thought that far ahead?"

"No, she hasn't," Carson snapped out.

"Yes, I have." Sabrina ignored Carson's pointed objection. "If the test results indicate that I'm the best match, and if Carson's own kidneys don't resume on their own, then he'll get one of mine." She eased to the edge of her chair and started to get up. "Now, if it's okay with you gentlemen, I'll head back to the Plaza Athenée. You're right about my being a little weak. I'd rather be at my best for this battle of wills. Let's put it on hold until tomorrow. For tonight, all I had in mind was checking in on Carson to make sure he was holding his own. Which I have, and he is. So I'll..." She stopped, groping at nothing as she started to black out.

Dylan grabbed her before she fell, anchoring his arm around her waist. "You'll head back, all right. But not before you eat a decent meal."

"Dylan." It was Carson's command-and-control voice. "Get her out of this damned hospital. Take her to a steak house... to Smith & Wollensky's; it's not far from the Plaza Amende.... Order the biggest piece of meat on the menu.... Get one for yourself, too. You've eaten nothing but hospital crap all day.... After dinner, take Sabrina back to the hotel.... Walk her up to her room.... Then, go home and get some sleep. You look like a zombie." He paused to regain his strength. "Don't worry about me.... I'm talked out.... Need to rest."

"Yeah, you do," Dylan agreed.

"And don't show up here at dawn.... Susan's already doing that.... So are the cops, to snatch up that bullet the minute Radison gets it out... Besides, I want you here afterward.... When they're gone... we need to talk...."

"About Ruisseau?"

"Yeah."

"I'll be here."