“I moved her to her bed.” Chase said, alarmed. “She was so light and didn’t move a muscle.”
Max followed him upstairs, still holding the bags of Chinese food. He gazed longingly at Montana. He needed to touch her, to feel her. He reached out.
“Don’t do it Max.” Chase smacked his hand away.
“Check her pulse. I’m calling Doc.”
“Already done. Her pulse seems fine, and she breathing.”
Max glared at him and dialed a number. Chase rechecked her pulse.
“Why won’t she wake up?” Max growled at Doc when he answered.
“Relax. Her body probably took the sleeping pill as a good sign. She needs sleep. She will need the energy.”
“Will she wake up tonight when Sterling summons her?”
“I am sure she will, maybe with this extra sleep she will have more energy to fight.”
Max thought about it. “Okay.” He closed the phone.
He wasn’t used to being this useless. It was driving him crazy.
Max handed Chase his Chinese. They ate in silence as they watched over her.
Chase didn’t know what to say to Max. Max’s job had screwed up any hope of a relationship before it got off the ground.
When Max retired to hunt down Montana, Chase was ecstatic. He could see how much Max was in love with her and knew she had the same feelings for him, even though she wouldn’t admit it. Now this.
Chase was fairly certain Montana was slowly dying, her pulse didn’t seem as strong as it should, either time he checked it. It was a good thing Max couldn’t touch her right now; he would fly off the handle if he found out. And they didn’t need that complication right now.
He sighed, Max wouldn’t be Max anymore if Montana died, there had to be something they could do. He wished he knew what it was.
Max kicked Chase out after dinner, closed his eyes and tried to relax in the chair next to her bed. What he would give to be able to crawl under the covers with her.
He’d been determined to woo her and take her out on dates when he first saw her again, but now he wondered if they would even be in this predicament if he’d done what he really wanted.
The image of that first day flooded his mind. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her through lunch, her family left, and it took all of his control not to throw her over his shoulder and take her back to his condo. Would that have made the situation better or worse? He would never know.
He fell into a light doze then went under.
He was swimming. No, she was swimming. No, wait, it was definitely him. Sharks circled, a cave, a ship, skeletons everywhere, gold, jewels, treasure. He stood on the beach. A skeleton. No, a man, ugly, no, handsome. His breath was being sucked out of his chest; his scars were burning, so much pain, he was freezing, he was terrified.
The images bombarded him over and over again until he lost his breath and had to crawl his way back to the surface of consciousness.
His eyes sprang open; he gulped in big breaths of air. He found himself on the floor, chilled to the bone. He jumped up quickly and doubled over, his side and arm burning hot, pain shot through scars he didn’t have. He glanced at the bed, Montana was gone.
Max sagged to his knees, found his phone, and dialed.
“Jamie,” he croaked, “she’s gone.”
“What!? Are you all right Max?”
“No, she drained me. You have to go without me. Go. Now!”
He lay back down on the floor, closing his eyes, letting the darkness fill him.