"Well, Jonas," she said, seating herself on the edge of the bed, "I think you just prolonged your stay by several days, maybe weeks. Without Hannah, your recovery will be normal and with being shot four times, it won't be easy. And when you're actually out of here, you'll have physical therapy to do. So just so you know, you might want to eat a little crow and ask Hannah to come back."

"You're supposed to be a doctor, Libby. Your bedside manner stinks."

"Yes, well, your manners have always stunk so I guess that makes us even. I've got a bit of a problem and I thought I'd run it by you."

"Thank G.o.d. Something besides did I pee today. You've got to get me the h.e.l.l out of here, Libby."

"You already said that. Pay attention. Someone is trying to kill me. Or maybe Ty. Or both of us." She related every incident, starting with Tyson's accident during the rescue, pointing out the harness was gone and ending with the explosion in the laboratory. She told him about Harry and ended by admitting she planned to talk to Edward Martinelli.

Jonas was silent for a few minutes. "Libby, whoever this person is has been escalating their behavior. It would be too big of a coincidence to think that there are two killers working separately, one after Ty and one after you. I just can't buy it."

"So you think the killer is after Ty."

"Don't jump to conclusions," Jonas cautioned. "Take it step at a time. I haven't seen all the forensics yet, but it's very possible you're both in danger. Ty, you've been around those safety harnesses for years. How could one of them be sabotaged? If it wasn't an accident, and the first attack was on you, then we at least know where to start."

Ty frowned and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "If it was cut, I would have noticed before I ever put it on. The harnesses are examined over and over. Before and after each use. And believe me, I'm meticulous about that. Our lives depend on our equipment and all of us are careful."

"So you didn't notice anything at all out of the ordinary."

Ty shook his head slowly, still frowning. "When I go up, I get an unbelievable adrenaline rush. Everything is very vivid. Colors. Smells." He stopped abruptly.

"What is it?"

"I remember thinking I smelled chloroform."

"Certainly chloroform wouldn't do anything to a safety harness," Libby said.

"What other chemical smells like chloroform that would?" Jonas asked. "The suit looked as if something had chewed through it. The threads were gone completely. I could tell Brannigan thought it looked suspicious."

"Something that would dissolve material," Tyson mused. "Harry would have access to all kinds of chemicals and he'd certainly know what each one would do. For that matter, even Joe Fielding might. And Ed Martinelli. I don't think we're narrowing the field of suspects."

"No, but we at least are aware that your harness could have been tampered with and how they might have done it," Jonas pointed out. "Do you remember smelling anything else?"

Tyson shrugged. "The usual things I think. Cologne. Aftershave. I smelled garlic. Nothing else to identify a chemical."

"Some chemicals give off a garlicky smell, Ty," Libby reminded him.

"Who would have access to the harness?"

Tyson sighed and ran his hand through his hair, leaving him looking a bit rumpled. "I suppose anyone really. No one is supposed to go to the heliport, but it isn't high security. We have a gate, but it's open most of the time. If we're busy working, I think someone might be able to slip in easy enough."

"And the attacks began on both of you after you started seeing one another," Jonas mused aloud. "Let me think on this, Libby. You two concentrate on the chemical. If you think of something that would eat through the material that smells like chloroform, let me know. And be careful when you talk to Martinelli. I'm not going to tell you it's a bad idea, because you're going to do it anyway, but let him know up front that I know where you are."

Libby leaned over to brush a kiss across his brow. "Get better fast, Jonas."

Tyson wrapped his arm around her waist, his touch a shade possessive. Libby shot him an amused look.

"If Hannah's still out there, send her back in," Jonas instructed.

"No way. You're too abusive," Libby protested. "You deserve to lie here alone and think about what a jerk you are."

"I know, but send her in anyway." Jonas caught Libby's hand when she scowled at him and went to turn away. "She said she was leaving, but she'd wait for you. Come on, Lib, give me a break. She looks so d.a.m.ned skinny and pale and worn out and it just makes me mad. She doesn't take care of herself."

"So have her go home and we'll watch out for her."

"No, you won't. She'll watch out for all of you. At least when she's with me she has to eat. If she doesn't, I don't." He smirked at her. "It works every time. She falls for the pathetic look."

"She needs sleep."

"I'll get her to lie down on the bed with me. I don't want to be alone."

"You're such a baby. Fine, I'll ask her to come back, but you'd better treat her right and I'm going to tell her to leave the second you get nasty with her," Libby warned him.

Jonas waved his hand at her. Libby glanced up at Tyson as she followed him out the door. "He's never had patience for inactivity. I remember years ago when he came down with some virus and was running a high fever. All of us sat on him to keep him down. I can't imagine how poor Hannah puts up with his bad temper." She glared at him. "I wouldn't."

He held up both hands in surrender. "I wouldn't expect you to."

Hannah stood up as they approached her. "I waited to see if you were all right, Libby. I've had all these terrible fears for your safety and I keep calling home. Sarah told me about all the accidents. It's so scary."

"We'll figure it out eventually," Libby said. "How's it going here? I can see Jonas is in rare form. He's as mean as a snake."

Hannah rubbed her temples. "It's hard on him to just lie there, especially with you in danger. He hates it. He's not very nice to the nurses or to anyone else. He calls Jackson three times a day for updates. I don't know what he's going to do when he starts feeling even a little better."

"If he gets nasty with you, Hannah, leave. He's begging for you to come back now, but if you do and he starts getting abusive, leave him. He's out of danger unless he gets an infection, so he should be fine a day or two without one of us here. I know you're feeding him strength to heal him faster, but he has no right to upset you."

Hannah gave her sister a faint smile. "He's upset me for years. I doubt if he can suddenly change overnight."

"Well, let him try. Seriously, Hannah, he's wearing you out."

Hannah leaned over to kiss Libby on the cheek. "I promise I'll leave the next time he yells at me." She glanced at her watch. "Probably in an hour."

Libby laughed. "That's so Jonas. I'll see you later." She took Tyson's hand and with a small wave, walked out.

"She did look tired," Tyson observed.

"She's not getting any sleep. Hannah's a homebody. She travels for her work, but as soon as possible she goes home. She sleeps better and is much more relaxed."

"It's incredibly nice of her to stay with Jonas."

"We try to keep one of us with him at all times. Hannah is very connected to him in spite of all their bickering. She's always loved him, but they just fight all the time."

"Why? He's got that look when he's around her, the one warning other men off. If she loves him and he feels that way, what's the problem?" He opened the door to the pa.s.senger side of the car.

Libby snapped her seat belt in place. "They're both stubborn and complicated and refuse to admit how they feel. They'll work it out eventually."

Tyson slipped into the driver's seat. "Are you going to come home with me? I've got a surprise for you. At least I hope I do."

"What have you done?"

"It wouldn't be much of a surprise if I told you, now would it?"

Libby found herself laughing all over again. "Just being with you makes me happy, Ty."

"Even though I forget our dates? You know I'm going to forget birthdays and anniversaries. I'll be terrible at that."

"You're so silly. We haven't gotten that far so there's no need to worry."

"I plan far in advance." He slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a small box. "I found this just before I bought the house."

Libby stared at him for a long time before she took it out of his hand. He wasn't looking at her, but kept his eyes straight ahead, his other hand gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white. Heart pounding, she opened the lid. The ring burst into fiery brilliance the moment the sun hit it, sparkling from every exquisitely cut facet. Her breath caught in her throat. "It's beautiful. More than that. I've never seen anything like it." And he'd paid a fortune for it. Libby loved jewelry, particularly diamonds, and she knew she was looking at an ideal, flawless stone. "Ty." She could only breathe his name, shocked at the perfection of the ring. It was designed for a small, pet.i.te hand, and pale skin. For her. He'd had it made for her. She hugged the knowledge to herself, once again shocked by his thoughtfulness.

"Well?"

"I can't speak. It's so incredible."

"Say yes, Libby. I could use a yes right about now."

"You didn't ask me."

"You're going to make me ask you?"

She laughed softly, hearing the note of exasperation in his voice. "I'm an old-fashioned girl."

"I'd rather just tell you and start off the right way."

"That might get you hit over the head."

Tyson drove for several miles in silence. A muscle ticked in his jaw. Libby was not going to help him out. She remained quiet. Waiting. He sighed. "Libby, are you going to marry me?"

She didn't hesitate or try to keep him in suspense. "Yes, Ty. I am."

He let his breath out slowly. "You sure? I'm not very social."

"That isn't exactly news."

"Put the ring on your finger."

Libby wasn't surprised when the ring fit perfectly. She held out her hand so he could see. "It's beautiful."

He caught her hand and kissed her fingers. "I don't want you to make up your mind about the house until we give it another try. Promise me you'll keep an open mind." He pulled the car onto a long winding drive leading up to high gates.

"This is where Martinelli lives?"

He glanced at her, quickly recognizing the apprehension in her voice. "You don't have to go in, Libby. I can talk to him myself."

"No, no. I need to do this. I want to look at him while I'm talking to him. It's easier to read someone face-to-face."

"You're not afraid, are you? Ed wouldn't be so stupid as to try to harm you in his own house, especially when he knows the police are aware we're talking to him. When I set up the appointment with him, I made certain he knew we were letting everyone know where we were."

"He has to be involved in something dirty if he sent men to your house to beat up Sam," Libby pointed out. She waited until Tyson leaned out the window to speak into the camera box.

The gates swung open and Tyson drove them up to the house. He'd obviously been there before and knew exactly where he was going. The house was large, Spanish style with a huge courtyard. The grounds were well kept, with flowers and shrubs everywhere. Ed Martinelli held the door open, waiting for them as they came up his walkway.

"Finally, Miss Drake. Thank you for coming." He held out his hand to Tyson. "I can't thank you enough for bringing her to me."

"You can thank me by telling me why the h.e.l.l you sent a couple of men to beat the h.e.l.l out of my cousin." Tyson took an aggressive step forward despite Libby's restraining hand. "And it's Doctor Drake."

Martinelli looked puzzled. "I don't know what you're talking about, Ty. I sent John Sandoval to ask her to speak with me. I tried to reach her by phone, but didn't get anywhere. When you called me and told me what they'd done, I pulled them out of Sea Haven immediately." He looked at Libby. "Please accept my sincere apologies, Dr. Drake. John takes his job very seriously."

"They had guns," Tyson said.

"I can only repeat my apology, Ty. They're bodyguards. They carry guns. If it makes you feel any better they were fired. I was desperate and I sent men I thought I could trust to handle a delicate situation. When they made it worse, I asked Sam to arrange a meeting and offered to exchange his gambling debt for a chance to talk to Dr. Drake." He stepped back and gestured toward the entryway. "Please come in."

Tyson stepped into the cool interior. "You're telling me you didn't have a couple of your men beat up Sam?"

"You've known me for years. Nearly my entire life. You know I don't operate that way. Sam owes me money. He has before and he will again. Why would I want him hurt? He's your cousin. If there was a problem, I'd go to you and we'd work it out."

"If you didn't send the men after Sam," Tyson asked, "who the h.e.l.l did?"

Libby remained silent, her fingers curled around Ty's hand, her gaze sharp and clear on Edward Martinelli's face. He looked worn and tired. She could feel waves of distress pouring off of him.

"I have no idea, Ty." He spread his hands in front of him, looking defeated. "I have three uncles involved in criminal activities. I can't help who my father was any more than he could help who his brothers are. Periodically they send bodyguards around to protect my family. I don't ask questions and I don't refuse them. Whatever is happening in their lives, I don't want my family hurt. It may be wrong of me, but I'm not willing to take a chance. I live my life as best I can." He waved his hand toward the sofa, an invitation to sit.

Tyson settled his body close to Libby, his posture protective, his fingers threaded through hers. "If you're not involved in anything, Ed, why does Sam owe you money?"

"Because I have a great deal and he asked me for it. He's always paid me back. And there's always you if he doesn't. You've spent your entire life bailing him out. Everyone knows you're good for the money." Ed switched his attention to Libby. "I had to find a way to talk to you. Ty told me how stupid John was in approaching you. I have no excuses, but I hope you'll at least hear what I have to say without prejudice."

"I'm here, Mr. Martinelli," Libby pointed out.

"I heard you were able to heal people." His gaze shifted, obviously embarra.s.sed. "I've never believed in that sort of thing, but I'm so desperate at this point I'd take my wife and son to a tent in the woods if I thought it would help."

"I take it they're ill?"

He nodded, rubbing his hand over his face. "For the last few years, my wife has had an autoimmune disease. At least that's what the doctors tell me. She gets so tired sometimes she can hardly function. It started up about three years ago and they diagnosed her with everything from Lyme disease to chronic fatigue syndrome. When Robbie first started showing signs about a month ago, I thought it was the same thing, or maybe mono. But the doctors thought I was overreacting. Since then he's gotten so much worse, but no one seems to be able to figure out what's wrong with him. I find doctors so frustrating. They know they're sick but they have no idea with what so they've given us ten diagnoses, none correct. But he's going to die. I see him slipping away from us every day. My wife is beside herself and so am I."

"Have you taken them to a place like the Mayo clinic for a diagnosis?"

He shook his head. "I gave up on doctors. I just feel so d.a.m.ned helpless. Can you just look at him?"

"He's here?" Libby asked incredulously. "Not in a hospital?"

"I've hired a full-time nurse for him, but after his doctor and two others diagnosed him as autoimmune, I brought him home. I have his records."

"I'd like to see those before I see him."

Edward immediately picked up a large envelope from his coffee table and handed it to her. Libby began a methodical read through the thick file. "He has bouts of fever, itching, headache and joint pain that moves around." She read aloud, her voice thoughtful, lines appearing between her eyebrows as she frowned. "I see here that you've never been to Africa. I know you travel extensively."

"Why does everyone keep asking us that? No, I've never been near Africa and neither has my wife."