I get the feeling he’s done this sort of thing before.
When we reach the top, he flips me over into his arms. He carries me through the wreckage of a building, navigating easily around smoking piles of rubble, stepping over bodies like they’re planks of wood.
The bald guy with the skull tattoo on his Adam’s apple lies on his back with his eyes wide open, a gaping wound in the side of his head where his brains were blown out.
I bury my face in Killian’s tactical vest and close my eyes.
He carefully loads me into the back of an SUV and throws a heavy blanket over me. We drive in silence broken only by the sound of the tires spitting gravel when he takes a curve in the country road too fast.
We park in a deserted field. Then there’s a helicopter ride.
Killian is the pilot, because of course he would be.
I’m behind the pilot’s chair strapped onto a stretcher, wondering how soon is too soon to ask for a shot of tequila.
We land on the roof of a hospital. A team of doctors and nurses sprint out to the helipad to greet us. I’m loaded onto another stretcher and whisked inside.
No one pays any attention to my insistence that I’m fine with the exception of my feet, which might need a Band-Aid or two and a few squirts of Bactine.
Killian runs alongside my stretcher. He’s removed the Darth Vader helmet, but is still loaded with weapons. He scares the shit out of everyone we pass in the halls. I gaze up at him, deeply impressed.
And crazier about him than ever.
We burst through the swinging doors of a room so brightly lit my eyes water. A doctor starts shouting instructions at people in scrubs. They scurry around, turning on machines. I’m parked near a wall bristling with medical instruments.
In full badass mode, Killian stands to one side of the doors with his arms folded over his broad chest and his tree trunk legs braced apart, watching all the activity with laser focus.
His jaw is tight. His nostrils are flared. His eyes threaten murder on anyone who so much as glances at him and takes their attention away from me.
“Hey. Gangster.”
He turns his mutant laser beam eyes to me.
“Is this a bad time to tell you that I’m in love with you?”
Someone is sticking a needle into my arm, but I’m barely aware of it.
Killian’s gaze has turned to fire. It scorches straight through me, the same way it has since the moment we met.
I say, “Because I am. I mean, I have been, but I only realized it recently.”
Nurses run back and forth around the bed, hooking me up to various machines and talking to each other in medical shorthand. I know this is all because of him. All the frenzy of activity and attention. I’m not just another patient.
I’m a patient brought in by the mysterious and powerful Mr. Black.
Obviously, everyone else is as impressed with him as I am.
Actually, the nurses seem impressed, but the doctor looks downright terrified.
I say, “I’m sorry I didn’t trust you. You were right: I was scared. I’m not anymore, though. And I promise I’ll make it up to you. Just as soon as all these people quit poking me with needles.”
Killian unfolds his arms, takes two steps forward, and booms, “Everybody out.”
His command rolls through the room like thunder. All the activity comes to a screeching halt.
When he shoots the doctor a threatening look like, Don’t make me have to say it again, the guy waves his arm in the air, saying briskly, “You heard the man. Everybody out.”
He ushers his staff out, letting the doors swing shut behind them.
Then it’s only me and my superhero gangster, staring at each other across the cold hospital emergency suite. My heartbeat monitor sounds like a malfunctioning smoke alarm.
I say, “I’m not dying. Just thirsty. I could use a burger, too. Maybe some fries.”
He takes a step toward me, his gaze darting all over my body and face. He’s searching me for injuries.
“Thank you for arranging all this, but I think I’d rather just go to your bat cave to recuperate, if that’s okay with you.”
His voice is a low rasp. “You’re hurt.”
“Nothing that can’t be easily fixed.”
“You need medical attention.”
“I need you.”
He takes another hesitant step forward, like he wants to keep away but can’t help himself. I can tell by the look in his eyes that he wants nothing more than to rush over and crush his mouth to mine, to throw himself on top of me and kiss me until we’re both breathless, but he thinks he’ll injure me. He thinks I’m too fragile for that right now.
He doesn’t know that the only thing hurting me is the distance between us.
I say crossly, “I’m dehydrated and hungry. The soles of my feet have seen better days. But otherwise I’m fine, and I’m perfectly lucid, and I really, really need to have you touch me right now, before I lose my freaking mind. Like right now. So step on it.”
It must be the sass that does it. The man can’t resist my sass.
He reaches me in a few quick, long strides, leans down, and takes me into his arms.
He holds me so tightly against his chest I have a hard time breathing.
I turn my face to his neck and inhale deeply, sucking in his scent and clinging to him. Or, rather, to something that feels like it could be a grenade.
His voices comes near my ear as a harsh whisper. “I’ll never forgive myself.”
For not preventing my kidnapping, he means. For being in Prague when he should have been with me. Or maybe for not finding me sooner. Or all of the above.
“Don’t be silly, honey. You saved my life. Again. Also, I think you kind of glossed over the more important development since we last saw each other.”
He pulls away slightly, staring into my face with dark, burning eyes. I gaze at him, feeling better than I have in years.
He says gruffly, “You’re in love with me.”
“Completely.”
He closes his eyes, draws a breath, licks his lips. When he opens his eyes again, they blaze with so much emotion it takes my breath away.
“And you trust me.”
“Implicitly.”
“All of which means…” He draws another ragged breath. “You’re mine.”
I smile. “God help you, but yes. I’m yours. I don’t care what you do for a living, what secrets you keep, or anything else. The thing I’ve been most afraid of my whole life finally happened, and it wasn’t half as bad as the thought that I’d never see you again. All I care about is you.” I pause, smiling up into his face. “Your sister-in-law is pretty great, too.”
He crushes me against his chest again. The hand that cradles my head is trembling.
How I adore it that this big, studly, arrogant badass is such a softie for me.
Then I think of something that hasn’t occurred to me yet, and my mind goes blank with terror. “Oh god!”
He breaks away, frantic. “What? What is it?”
“Truvy! Is she okay? She was with me at the police station! The men didn’t take her, too—”
“No,” he interrupts softly, exhaling in relief. “She’s fine.”
“One minute I was walking right behind her, the next…”
“I know, lass. I know everything that’s happened from then til now.”