She didn't look all thatsympathetic, but the moment she saw I was awake she reached out of myline of sight and brought back a glass of water."Can you ...sit up?" she asked.Yeah, wonderful bedside manner, a real Nightingale, that K. Pain flaredacross my chest as I struggled to sit. Just as expected: one massivebruise. My whole chest and upper abdomen was a purple and yellowed mess.The bastard who shot me must've been close. K placed some pillows behindmy back to prop me up. My vision swam. She lowered the zipper on my suit pants and her hand ducked inside. Finding what she was looking for was no problem, but she had to tug a little to pull it through my fly. Her lips were much too close and I couldn’t resist kissing them. She tasted good, not like candy or mouthwash but like honeysuckle on the wind. Her hand was squeezing me below. My pants zipper was rubbing me underneath, so I reached between us and unfastened my belt and the hook in my waistband. She caught the .357 magnum. He moves around a lot. Smart in his line of work. Which is women. Widows and divorcées specifically. For his front ... last I knew in DC he was a senior civilian consultant to the Inner Ring at the Pentagon.”He frowned, then smiled again, “No, wait. He’d moved on to the investigative side for the House Armed Services Committee. Added another couple of medals.”“Then he transferred to the Navy and you saw him in San Diego.”“I just saw him for a minute. Let’s see ... a cocktail bash, retirement. ’ ‘Okay, but can you do something about those alarms?’ John said as he looked around the room, looking for possible dangers, but only seeing the women still engaged in their play, and of course Dinah Cohen frozen in place. The alarms in John’s mind finally stopped. There was little time to waste. He needed to get April home safely, deal with Cohen and finally find out what had happened with his father. ‘Ahem… sorry sir,’ Mr. Rockefeller said again. ‘But your priorities are in need of.