"Gary's the one we should be sorry for." Her fingers twisted in the burgundy blanket even as her face stayed composed. "Thank you for coming over, but the SPs have everything under control."
So why were they keeping her around?
God, he wished she were anywhere else right now. She should be on her way to work. She often went in early or on Saturdays to tutor at-risk students from other classes and schools. He shouldn't know so much about her, but his ears always tuned in when her father bragged about his daughter's graduation from college, her junior high teaching job, her latest marathon race.
Damn. He was a freaking sap when it came to this woman. Always had been.
Tearing his eyes away from her before he did something dumb like scoop her up and take her away, he stared at the shrouded body being hefted onto a gurney. "Owens was in my squadron. I have to be here for him, and your father would want me to look out for you."
Her father, a cargo plane loadmaster, was deployed to the Middle East. The last thing the Price family needed was more stress with J.T. in a war zone and his wife taking care of a toddler with another late-in-life baby on the way.
"I am okay." Nikki's teeth chattered faster in contradiction to her seeming composure.
"Right. And you're not in shock, either. Uh-huh." Carson shrugged off his jacket. No way did he want to think of her father right now or all that guilt would drive him to his knees.
He'd betrayed the man in the worst possible way, a man who was more than a friend, more than a comrade in arms. They'd been POWs together, the strongest of bonds.
He owed J. T. Price better than screwing the man's daughter. He couldn't make up for the past, but he could take care of the present by hauling Nikki out of whatever mess she'd landed her most excellent ass in.
Carson passed his jacket to her. She stared at the coat so long he wondered if she might simply ignore his offer. Finally, she took it from him carefully, without touching his hand.
The blanket slid around her waist as she shoved one arm then the other into his coat, a final shiver rattling her teeth. "I'm sure my dad will be grateful."
Not hardly.
He wanted to tell her he'd come for her, too, but that wouldn't be wise with a cop within earshot.
The gurney wheeled past with the sheet covering the outline of a body. She went even paler under her deep tan. She tanned easily thanks to her mother's Greek heritage—and what an inane thought in the middle of hell. "You still haven't told me what happened? How did he hit his head?"
Maybe he should pull the SP aside and speak with him instead, but he couldn't bring himself to leave her sitting alone.
"I don't know. I had a couple of drinks over at Beachcombers. I was nervous about—"
Please don't let her say she was nervous about sleeping with Owens.
"—about breaking up with him."
Thank God.
Or maybe not because that gave them all the more reason to have fought.
"I don't remember anything after the second drink. I can't even recall leaving Beachcombers, just waking up here."
Nikki didn't remember? Or was too embarrassed to say? Either way, he could tell now wasn't the time to push her.
He could see the fear in her wide eyes. Her foggy eyes? Something wasn't right. Her dilated pupils stared back at him in spite of the early-morning sun through the windows and overhead light flooding the hall. Nikki didn't use drugs. He would bet his life on that.
Except no one ever believed his wealthy uptight parents were users, much less addicts, until his tenth grade English teacher. She hadn't been able to get the administration to do crap for him since his parents were six-figure contributors to the private school, but she'd pointed him toward Alateen. His parents weren't alcoholics, but the counseling principles had still applied for the child of addicts.
His teacher had also steered his parents toward enrolling him in a military prep school for his junior and senior years. A school far-the-hell away from his neglectful, abusive home life.
If Nikki had a problem, she needed help from someone better than him with his own secrets and demons.
"Maybe I should call your mother." He reached inside his thigh pocket for his cell phone. Nikki's mother, Rena, was also a counselor, even if she was on maternity leave.
"No!" She gripped his wrist with quiet desperation. Her slender fingers seared through his uniform sleeve. "Please. Mom has enough on her plate right now with Dad deployed, not to mention being over forty and pregnant again. She hasn't wanted people to know, but she's having a tough time with nausea, even a false labor scare. Please, don't call her. Okay?"
"You shouldn't be alone. Is there a friend I could call for you?"