“Maybe,” she said, “or maybe you just want to put it in here.” She took two steps forward, holding out the box.
“And why would I want to do that?” he asked, staring at her like she was a snake.
“Because the one thing that you really don’t want to do is die yourself.”
“I’ll die anyway. The minute they get a chance, every one of the men in this room will try to kill me.”
“You’re right,” she said.
And he pulled out something from the back of his pocket. It was small, metal.
And she recognized it. “A scalpel,” she said. “Are you a surgeon too?”
“Of course not,” he said, “but it’s sharp, and it makes a hell of a weapon.”
“It does”—she smiled—“but it won’t be a weapon you can use if you don’t put that grenade in here.”
“I don’t give a shit,” he said, and then he grabbed her and held the scalpel against her neck.
She sighed. “You know that’s really not an answer either.” She held out the box, even as he pressed his scalpel against her neck, and she felt the pinch. “Put the grenade in here.”
He thought about it and then said, “Hell no. I’ve got both. I’ll get out of here with you, and I’ll find another way to leave the country.”
“You’re not going anywhere.” She held the box underneath the grenade, not worried about the scalpel at her neck. She was more worried about ensuring that, when the guys took their shot, the grenade would fall into the open metal case. She looked up at Bullard and said, “I think it’s a really good time to count.”
An inaudible hum rose as everyone silently counted down together.
Three …
Two …
And it was so silent, but she heard it in her head. As soon as they got to one, she slammed the box up to the grenade, as the bullets were fired.
Blachard’s head took the bulk of the hits, and he immediately released the grenade, which dropped into the box. She stepped around the scalpel still in his hand, as he fell to the floor. But she held the grenade in the box in her hand. She handed it to Fallon. “I hope you can dispose of that.”
He took it from her and, with a voice filled with respect, said, “Yes, ma’am, I sure can,” and quickly he disappeared. She turned to look down at Blachard and said, “No surgery needed here.” Damn glad to have all this over, she knew recovery wouldn’t be as easy or as fast for Bullard this time, but she could help there too. Bending down, she pulled the scalpel from his hand, looked at it, and said, “Wow, this is one of the better ones. Did he steal it from your surgery center?”
Bullard nodded, as he snatched her up into his arms, where she cuddled in close.
“I think I’d like to see that surgery suite now,” she said, “because this is one of the best brands, and I’m all about good equipment.”
He shook his head, chuckling. “You know I’m totally okay too,” he said in relief. “Let me see to Izzie, and then we’ll get the hell out of here, so the guys can take care of this.”
“Revenge, greed, money, and jealousy,” she said. “That’s all it ever is.”
After seeing that Quinn had Izzie well in hand, Bullard led Leia into the surgery suite.
She stopped and stared, as Bullard pointed out all the equipment she could have at her fingertips, if she wanted to. “But this is better than in any of the hospitals I’ve ever seen.” Her heart swelled in joy at the gleaming equipment.
“Remember that thing about money?” he said, with a lopsided grin.
She smiled and said, “Now this could be a pleasure.”
“It will be a pleasure,” he said; then he walked closer and snatched her into his arms again, as if he were afraid that she would somehow disappear. “Don’t you ever pull a stunt like that again. You scared me half to death.”
“I won’t have to,” she said, “if you will stop creating so many enemies. Remember? The most dangerous enemies are nearly always from within.”
He held her close. “I know,” he whispered, “but no longer.”
Chapter 18
Later that night, after several glasses of wine and a solid meal that Dave had produced almost magically from the massive kitchen, Bullard led her upstairs to his bedroom.
“What? I don’t get my own bedroom?” she said in a teasing voice.
“You can have anything you want,” he said, “as long as you stay with me.” There was such a note of vulnerability in his voice that she turned and kissed him gently and said, “I have no intention of going anywhere else. But I will insist on dragging you back to the islands every once in a while.”
“And I promise we’ll go,” he said. “I really do think we should buy up a bunch of land and keep it for a retreat for all of us.”
“That would be lovely,” she said, throwing her arms around him and giving him a big kiss. “As long as we’re together, I’ll be fine.”
He dropped his gaze, then held her close and kissed her gently.
She shook her head. “Oh no, you don’t, no need to be so gentle,” she said. “I’ve waited far too long for this.” She kissed him back, passion rippling through her body and curling her toes, pressing her body as tightly against him as she could.
He was already there, holding her against him, his body already at attention, as he wrapped his arms around her, picked her up, and carried her to his massive bed. When he laid her down on the bed, he whispered to her, “You know something? I can almost see why my brother was so upset, and how bringing you home was like the final straw.”
“I don’t give a shit about your brother,” she said, bouncing off the bed to quickly shed the little bit of clothing she had on, then stood before him in her honey-kissed skin from the island.
He just stared, shook his head, and said, “I’m one damn lucky man.”
“You’re one very overdressed man,” she said and quickly put her hands on his belt buckle to help him out of his jeans.
He laughed and stripped down almost as fast as she had. He wrapped her in his arms, and, laying her on the bed again, he whispered, “Mine?”
She nodded. “All yours.” Then she wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered, “Mine?”
He nodded. “Yours forever.”
It certainly didn’t take very long for the tears to come to her eyes, and she realized just how much this man meant to her. But he wouldn’t have any of it. With the passion still rising between them, he cuddled and caressed and kissed until she was mindless with joy, her heart overwhelmed with love, and her body just waiting for possession.
“Hurry,” she said, “I can’t wait another minute.”
He said, “No way, I want to make it last.”
“We could make it last,” she said, “later, much later.”
He chuckled and settled himself between her thighs, and, when she looked up, he laced his fingers in hers, raised her arms over her head, and slowly entered her. She twisted and moaned underneath him. “Dear God,” she said, “it’s been so long.”