Caitlin stood in Sean’s hospital room, the Glock firmly in her grip, and watched a slow smile spread over her father’s face. She wondered if that rogue bullet inside his broken body had finally driven him mad. She was about to confront men who’d stolen pathogens with the potential to kill everyone around them for hundreds of miles. If ever there was a time for clarity, it was now. “This isn’t funny, Dad. Are you going to tell me where Lacey Dunn’s room is?”
“That’s my girl,” Sean said in a gruff voice. “Get to the heart of the problem first.” He started coughing.
His pallor alarmed her. She started toward him but he turned away as though he couldn’t stand for her to see him in this weakened condition. As if she cared that he wasn’t still the same robust man who’d raised her. He was her father. Why wouldn’t he allow her to be his daughter?
He waved a hand. “If you’re going to save the world, then you’d better get going,” he choked out. “We can talk later. You’re the one with the gun, so take care of this situation.”
His command was clear. Her duty defined. She was torn between an obligation to take out the bad guys and caring for her father. Right at this moment, she couldn’t do both. She had to choose. Ignoring the hurt swirling in her chest, she stepped out of the way so Mac could help Sean to the bed. At least her father allowed someone to help him.
Even then, Sean pushed Mac away once he was on the bed. “Go with her.”
Mac hesitated, glancing from Caitlin back to her father.
Sean waved him on. “You both have a job to finish.”
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