Chapter Twenty-Three #2
The words had hovered on the edge of his tongue last night while they lay tangled together in the dark. He had almost said them. But was she ready to hear them? Was he ready to say them out loud and accept everything they meant?
Commitment had never frightened him. Getting it wrong did.
A sudden wave of nausea rolled through him. He swallowed hard and shifted the pizza box higher on his lap, hoping the greasy smell was to blame and not the thoughts spinning through his head. He was almost certain it was from the pain and medication. Almost.
“Are you okay?”
Grace’s voice pulled Sean from the narcotic haze clouding his thoughts.
He blinked and glanced around, disoriented for a moment before the familiar parking lot outside her condo came into focus through the windshield.
At some point during the drive, he had drifted so deep into his own head that he had not even noticed they had arrived.
Turning toward her, he reached for her hand and threaded his fingers through hers before lifting it to his lips. The softness of her skin against his mouth stirred something warm in his chest, a feeling far stronger than the medication dulling the pain pulsing through his body.
“Thank you for being there for me today.”
Her brows drew together as she held his gaze. “Of course! Did you think I wouldn’t be?”
The faint hurt woven through her tone cut through the fog in his head. That was not what he’d meant, and the thought of her doubting that sent a twist of regret through him. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, searching for words that did not feel clumsy.
“No... I’m just... I like having you by my side.
I’m falling for you, Grace. Big time. And it’s unfamiliar territory for me.
I don’t want to rush you into anything, but for the first time in my life, I’ve found something.
.. someone real. Someone who’s taken my heart and given me hers in return.
” The confession left him feeling more exposed than standing before a room full of reporters.
He forced a crooked grin, hoping humor might cut through the intense mood pressing around them.
“Please say you love me, too, before I start spouting poetry. If I did that, I think Brian and KC would demand I hand in my man card.”
For one breathless moment, she said nothing.
Then Grace leaned across the center console and gently cupped his cheek, her palm warm against his skin.
Her kiss was soft and tender, yet it still sent a jolt of awareness through him.
Despite the pain radiating from his shoulder and ribs, his body responded at once.
Well, at least getting run down had not broken everything.
“I love you, too, Sean,” she whispered against his lips. “No poetry needed.”
Relief swept through him, followed by a rush of wonder that left him almost lightheaded. He started to lift his good arm and pull her closer, wanting to lose himself in the kiss and in the reality of what she had just said, but pain ripped through his injured shoulder with brutal force.
His sharp gasp sent Grace back into her seat, her eyes widening with alarm. “Oh. I’m so sorry, Sean.”
He forced himself to breathe through the throbbing tearing through his shoulder and down his arm. It took several seconds before he trusted himself to speak.
“Shh. It’s okay. My mistake.” He let his head rest against the seat and managed a weak smile.
The pain was impossible to ignore now, each pulse a reminder that Grace had been right all along.
“But I think you were right. I’m going to need one of those painkillers.
Especially since I plan on making love to you sometime this afternoon. ”
She switched off the engine and gave him a look that managed to hold both exasperation and affection. “You’re incorrigible.”
Sean smiled, the expression pulling at his bruised jawline, but worth it all the same. “When it comes to you? Absolutely.”
George kept his hands busy as he worked, forcing himself through the motions he had repeated countless times.
The familiar routine should have calmed him.
Instead, the anger coiling inside him made it hard to focus on the task at hand.
He kept his expression pleasant whenever anyone passed by, careful not to let a flicker of what simmered beneath the surface show on his face.
The news reports had replayed in his mind all afternoon, each memory feeding the fury building inside him. The federal agent had survived. Not only survived, but walked out of the hospital.
It didn't make sense. He had struck the man at close to fifty miles an hour. The impact should have shattered bones and left him broken beyond repair. Instead, the guy was bruised and battered and already back at that blonde’s side.
The image of them together scraped across his thoughts. Her hands on him. Her lips brushing his. The way she hovered over him as if he were something precious.
His jaw clenched.
The only good thing to come from the Fed surviving was that George had found his next victim.
The blonde was not his usual type. She looked polished and refined, the sort who knew how to smile sweetly and innocently while drawing every male eye in the room.
Even dressed in those skintight workout clothes, she carried herself with the kind of confidence that demanded attention, and George had seen the way other men had looked at her.
A woman like that knew exactly what she was doing. She used what she had the same way his mother had, dangling temptation in front of men and keeping them circling like fools. The thought turned his stomach.
She wouldn’t keep doing it, though. He'd make sure of that.
As he worked, the shape of his plan sharpened. When he was finished with her, there would be no more teasing smiles. No more knowing glances. No more men staring after her.
And there was a certain satisfaction in what her death would do to Sean Malone.
George had wanted the federal agent dead. That would have been the cleanest solution. This, though... this would serve another purpose. Loss had a way of hollowing a man out, stripping him down piece by piece until there was nothing left but grief and helplessness.
Yes.
That would be far better.
Malone would pay for every insult and smug accusation hurled through television screens for the world to hear. Maybe not with his life, but he would pay.