be in for some grueling rehab work before you’ll be ready to return to duty.”
Matt snorted. “What makes you think I’ll ever be?”
“Because I know you, you bullheaded Irishman. You’re not a quitter, any more than your old man was. And you love police work too much to throw in the towel without a fight.”
Matt shrugged. “The doctor doesn’t share your confidence.”
“So what does he know? You’re going to have to work your tail off for weeks, maybe even months, to pass the reentry physical, but if anyone can do it, you can.”
Matt gave another scornful snort. “You have more faith in me than I do.”’
“Probably, but that will change. Now, the way I see it, you’ve got two choices. You can either hire a live-in nurse or you can spend the summer up at my fishing lodge on Lake Livingston.”
“Your fishing lodge?”
“Why not? It’s the perfect place to recuperate. The fresh air and peace and quiet of the country will be good for you. You can go for walks in the woods and fish off the pier at first. Later, when you’re stronger, you can go sailing or take the fishing boat out onto the lake.”
“Don’t you have tenants at the lodge?”
“Just one right now, but that’s no problem. It’s a big place. You’ll probably never run into each other. Anyway, you can use my quarters. There’s a private entrance off the side veranda.”
“I still don’t—”
“This isn’t a suggestion, Dolan, it’s an order.”
Matt bristled. “You can’t order me to do anything when I’m not on duty.”
Smiling benignly, the lieutenant crossed his arms over his chest and rocked back on his heels. “Oh, yeah? Don’t forget, you need my permission to even take the reentry physical. You spend the summer getting well at the lodge or you can forget about working the streets again. Got that, Dolan?”
“You’d do it, too, wouldn’t you?” Matt snarled. “You’d refuse to let me take the physical for street duty and stick me behind a desk.”
John shrugged and spread his hands wide. “Hey. It’s up to you, Dolan. All you have to do is recuperate and get back in shape up at Lake Livingston.”
“That’s blackmail.”
“Maybe,” John agreed with a shrug. “But I don’t see it that way. I’m just trying to help one of my men get back on his feet.”
“Listen to him, Matt,” Hank urged. “You gotta recuperate somewhere, and shoot, any way you look at it, that’s not bad duty. A carefree summer at a lake in a comfortable fishing lodge. If I thought Patty would allow it, I’d almost be tempted to go out and get myself shot if it meant a summer at the lake.” He paused and gave his partner a lopsided grin. “So whaddaya say?”
A muscle worked in Matt’s jaw as his gaze slid back and forth between his two friends. Hank’s expression was coaxing. John’s, though pleasant, was adamant, and unyielding as granite.
“Excuse me. Am I interrupting something?”
The heads of the other two men snapped around, but Matt merely gritted his teeth. He know that drawling voice with its underlay of laughter only too well. Turning his head slowly on the pillow, he stabbed the new arrival with a hard stare.
The man stood in the doorway, one shoulder propped against the frame, an amused smile on his roguishly handsome face. Everything about him—his loose stance, the careless panache of his attire, the smooth nonchalance—made him appear friendly and harmless, but Matt knew that beneath that laid-back charm was a sharp mind and a pitbull determination when he smelled a story.
Their gazes locked, one pair of vivid blue eyes narrowed and hard, with no trace of welcome, the other pair twinkling with curiosity and mischief and humor. Neither wavered.
“Who let you in here?” John snarled, putting an end to the silent battle. “I specifically told the staff that Matt’s room was off-limits to reporters.”
“C’mon, Lieutenant. Can’t a guy drop by to see an old friend?”
“Just because we’ve known each other for a few years doesn’t make us friends, Conway,” Matt growled.
“All right, then, a close acquaintance. And it’s been more than a few years. More like ten or eleven.”
“Whatever. I still don’t want you here. I have nothing to say to the press.”
“You heard the man.”
J. T. Conway straightened away from the doorjamb and stepped into the room, ignoring Hank’s warning. “Look, I just want to do a small piece on your recovery. The public want to know how their local hero is doing.”
“Yeah, right. We both know that if that was all you wanted, your paper would’ve sent a cub reporter, not their ace.”
A rueful grin hiked up one corner of J.T.’s mouth. “Okay, maybe I was hoping to get a quote or two about the raid. Word is, the dealer was tipped off. That someone in the department is on the take. How does it feel to know that you nearly bought the farm because one of your own is dirty?”
Matt’s eyes narrowed. “Get out.”
“Look, Matt, I know—”
“All right, that’s it. You’re outta here,” Hank growled. Both he and John took a menacing step toward the reporter.
“Whoa now. Look, guys, I’m just doing my job. The readers have a right to know—”
“How about I show you how it feels to eat teeth? How about that for a story? Your readers ought to love that.”
J.T. looked from one determined face to the other, weighing his chances. He was a big man, matching Matt’s six foot one and broad-shouldered build, but he knew when to back off. Raising both hands, palms out, he retreated. “Okay, okay. I’m going.” His blue eyes darted to Matt and he winked. “You get well, buddy.”
“Boy, the nerve of that guy,” Hank muttered after J.T. left.
The lieutenant, with his usual tenacity, turned his attention back to Matt. “If you go home to that town house of yours, you can expect more of that sort of thing. And there won’t be anyone there to run interference. If you go to the lake, you’ll have privacy. No one but Hank and me and a few others will even know you’re there.”
“Jeez! Don’t you ever give up?” Matt groaned. “Oh, all right! I’ll go to your damned fishing lodge.”
John beamed. “Good, good.” He rubbed his palms together. “I’ll make the arrangements. Hank will go by your place and pack your clothes, then be here tomorrow at checkout time to drive you up to the lake.”
“I’m thrilled,” Matt drawled.
“We’ll get out of here now and let you rest,” John returned, ignoring the sarcastic comment. “C’mon, Hank.”
Out in the hallway Hank fell into step with the lieutenant. When they were out of earshot of the room, he cleared his throat and asked, “Uh, does Matt know who your tenant at the lodge is?”
“Nope. We made our deal after he was shot.”
“That’s what I thought. Are you sure you know what you’re doing boss?”
They reached the bank of elevators and John punched the down button. The doors of the waiting elevator opened and the two men stepped inside.
“Absolutely. I’ve given this a lot of thought,” John replied, punching the button for the lobby. “Matt’s like an injured animal right now, snapping and snarling at everyone and trying his best to curl up in the dark alone and lick his wounds. Well, I’ll be damned if