Her eyes met his, soft and sympathetic. ‘Okay, we’ll make it a strong coffee. Attack the whisky when we get home.’
Home. The word had come out naturally, and why wouldn’t it, because it was home to her. Still, his chest warmed at the idea of going home with her.
Kat pushed him onto the sofa and then fussed around making him a coffee from the machine in the tiny kitchenette. The more he sat there, thinking about what had just happened, the more his stomach churned and the sicker he felt. Unable to hold it any longer, he rushed to the bathroom.
Not only the guy with the wobbly legs then, the one who’d frozen at the sound of a gun going off. He was now the guy who’d humiliatingly, ignominiously, thrown up.
After rinsing out his mouth and splashing water on his face, he sucked in a deep breath and walked back out.
The sympathy on Kat’s face when she saw him, only made him feel worse. It was sexist, male chauvinist bullshit but damn it, he wanted to be the strong one. The one who looked out for and protected her.
‘It scares the crap out of you, doesn’t it, hearing gunfire?’
‘Apparently.’ Though equally apparently, it had only scared the crap out of him. He fell back onto the sofa, hunching forward, forearms resting on his thighs, trying to find his equilibrium.
‘Do you want this coffee I’ve painstakingly prepared or will it, you know, make you—’
‘Have another humiliating heaving episode? Quite possibly.’ He gave her what he knew was a weak smile. ‘But I’m willing to risk it if you are.’
She pushed the mug into his hands, then surprised him by perching on the coffee table in front of him and looking directly into his eyes. ‘There’s nothing humiliating about being scared when someone’s firing a gun at you.’
He couldn’t hold her gaze. He felt too vulnerable, too disgusted with himself. ‘You weren’t.’
‘That’s where you’re wrong.’ She held out her hand, and he was shocked to see it tremble. ‘See, I’m having a wobble too, and the shot wasn’t even directed at me.’
‘Fuck, Kat.’ He rubbed a hand across his face, struggling to compose himself. ‘Someone tried to kill me.’
‘Yeah, but they didn’t. And now the police are out there, hunting them down.’
‘They didn’t because of you.’ How shameful that it had taken him this long to realise it. ‘You saved my life.’
She shook her head. ‘Hey, no need to get all dramatic on me. All I did was shove you onto the floor.’ Her gaze fell to the dust on his black jeans, and then up to his now creased shirt. ‘FYI, the crumpled look is surprisingly good on you.’
He knew she was trying to lighten the mood, but his mind kept going back to what had happened. ‘You risked your life to drive me to the entrance.’ While he’d been cowering on the back seat. Once again, his stomach churned. ‘Christ.’ His chest heaved on a shuddering breath and he flung his head back against the sofa, squeezing his eyes shut.
***
Kat was desperately trying to hold it together. She knew if she allowed her brain the chance to relive that moment in the car park, she’d turn into a jabbering wreck. Instead she forced it to focus on what needed to be done, rather than what had already happened. And as she watched the shame rolling through Zac, she knew exactly what that was.
‘Stop it.’ She must have said it a little more sharply than she’d intended because his eyes flew open. ‘First off, I didn’t risk my life when I drove the car. Whoever was shooting wasn’t aiming at me.’
‘And of course you knew they had perfect aim?’
If they had, you’d probably be dead. Her stomach lurched and she put a hand over it to try and settle it. ‘I took a calculated risk. One of many I’ve taken over the years.’
His face paled and he pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘That doesn’t help.’
‘Doesn’t help what?’
He sat bolt upright, agonised green eyes slamming into hers. ‘It doesn’t help my twisting guts to know you put yourself in danger for other people, not just me.’
Oh no, she wasn’t having this. She’d had this discussion once before in her life, when a guy had tried to wrap her in cotton wool. Tried to pull her out of the line of fire. ‘Were you listening to me? I said I took a calculated risk. I know what I’m doing.’ You said that last time, too, she realised belatedly, sickeningly. And look how it turned out.
A low, unamused laugh rumbled out of Zac. ‘I’m not saying you don’t. I just … Jesus.’ His eyes bounced around the room before finding hers again. A stormy green whirl of feelings, they reached right into her. ‘I can’t stand the thought of you being hurt.’
Emotion balled in her chest, squeezing the air from her lungs and suddenly Kat felt as if the walls were closing in on her. She stared back at him, not knowing what to say. Only knowing that hearing the gunfire, and seeing Zac lying on the floor, had terrified her so much that for a moment, she’d not been able to breathe.
It was a feeling that went far beyond what a bodyguard should feel for a client.
A feeling she’d felt only once before in her life, and vowed to never, ever, put herself through again.
But the heart couldn’t be controlled.
‘I overstepped again, didn’t I?’ Clearly taking her silence as irritation, she watched as he mentally and physically withdrew from her, sliding a big steel guard around his emotions. ‘Sorry.’
‘Don’t be.’ She reached out to clasp a hand around his clenched fist before dropping a gentle kiss on his knuckles.
His gaze arrowed in on hers. ‘What was that for?’
‘For caring about me. And to let you know I care back. When I thought you’d been shot, I totally freaked out.’
He gave her a wry smile. ‘A silent freak out? It doesn’t sound like the Kat Parker I know.’
‘Yeah, well, thankfully for both of us, the training kicked in.’ But it could have been too late. Despite her efforts to keep it locked up, the horror of the moment began to replay back to her. She’d allowed Zac to carry on talking when she should have shut him up.
She’d allowed him to distract her.
That bullet could have got him.
Bile rose in her throat and it took all her effort to swallow it down. When her phone rang, Kat snatched at it, desperate for the diversion. A chance to regroup and put her professional head back on.
She relayed what had happened to Mark almost robotically, her need to keep her emotions battened down drowning out everything else.
‘That was Mark,’ she told Zac once she’d ended the call. ‘Security and the police are prowling the area, but so far they’ve not found anything. The police are anxious for us to give a statement when you’re ready.’
Zac had slumped forward, forearms resting on his thighs. ‘Fine, though all I did was hide out of the way.’ His self-disgust was clear.
‘You followed my orders,’ she corrected. ‘And that helped both of us get out alive.’ Though I nearly ballsed up. Nearly got you killed. She fought the voices in her head. Later she’d give in to them, let them have their say, but for now, the man beating himself up, needed her. Walking back over to him, she placed a hand gently on his face. ‘The first time I heard a gun go off, I almost shit myself. The first time I heard the enemy firing a gun at me, I think I did.’