Seventeen
It was cool, not cold, which was nice. It was soft, whatever I was on, but the sound, like a jackhammer or a sander, was loud and close.
And I was drowning. Slowly, painfully, I was drowning.
It was that throbbing where your lungs were going to burst because you couldn’t hold your breath for even one more minute.
It was just the end because the buildup of adrenaline had come and gone with no relief, and I knew that because I had woken up at the last moment.
So close.
And then there were hands in my hair before I was stabbed in the side with a knife. Sharp, hot, driving ice pick punched through my side. I couldn’t even scream.
But suddenly, I could. I should have thanked someone for the relief of being out of the vise, but then my neck and head were held tight before I was lifted and there was rain. My face was battered with water, and I tried to turn away.
“Secure him to the board!”
“Hold on, ’kay? Don’t move!”
I didn’t struggle—couldn’t. There was no energy. The rain stopped trying to drown me again, and the time between the drops got longer until it was gone.
Bad guys knowing my name and me being clueless about theirs—that just bugged me so much.
In high school, I’d had a job at a drive-in and had to wear a name tag.
All kinds of people used my name who never asked me for it, and I knew it was stupid—it was part of the retail gig—but still, that added to my hatred of the job.
When I changed jobs to a bookstore, I lied and told them I went by my middle name, Sven, so I had a name tag that basically said I was an exchange student from Sweden.
Not that I ever had a middle name. My grandmother had never given me one.
But being called by a different name had been okay as long as it wasn’t mine.
“I didn’t catch all that. Open your eyes and tell me again.”
Open my eyes?
“Please, baby.”
There was warm breath on my face, and I whimpered because the sound was a growl, deep and husky, and only one man could make it.
“Sam,” I murmured, but realized nothing had come out.
“Hello, sunshine,” he said, and soft, silky lips were pressed to my forehead.
My eyes fluttered open, and I saw him beside me. He looked terrible. There were dark circles under his eyes, his color was off, the stubble on his face was verging on actual beard—which made no sense—and he was trembling just a little.
“Sam,” I husked, but it came out as a whisper. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Sam.”
He closed his eyes for a minute, and I watched his jaw clench tight and the muscles in his neck cord.
I wanted to touch his face, but I was done. Opening my eyes had drained me. “Love you,” I said and closed them.
He was asleep in a chair beside my bed when I woke up again. As usual, he was on the side closest to the door. It was a protective thing. The long-sleeved button-down he was wearing was open, revealing the shoulder holster and his gun.
“Hey,” I called to him.
His eyes tried to open and slid shut. He tried again before realizing where he was, and he jolted awake. It was like he got hit by a bolt of electricity. His head snapped up, and he was looking at me.
“Sunshine yourself,” I croaked out.
I was so happy to see him. I tried to reach for him, but nothing happened. My arms didn’t move.
He got up and came over to the bed and picked up the cup off the tray. “Here,” he said, moving the straw to my lips. “Have some water.”
I drank a little and then looked at him. My tears came instantly. “It’s so good to see you.”
He nodded, and I watched him swallow hard. He so obviously couldn’t speak.
“You look like crap,” I said, staring at him.
He leaned in and kissed me tenderly, lightly, one of his hands in mine, the other in my hair, stroking it gently over and over, pushing it back from my face. He looked down at me, and I saw how red-rimmed and raw his eyes were.
“I love you, Jory.”
I couldn’t see him because there were tears again, blurring my vision. He kissed my eyes, my cheeks, and then my lips. I parted them, and he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding over mine. It was deliberately slow, tender, and arousing. I couldn’t hold in the moan.
“God, Jory,” he breathed out.
“Kiss me again.”
He kissed me again, slower, deeper, and I got my arm up around his shoulder to keep him there. He wrapped me in his arms as carefully as he could with the tubes and everything else in the way. He was so warm, and I let out a deep breath.
We stayed close for long minutes—me savoring his warmth and him, I thought, appreciating me being there.
When he pulled back, he wiped the tears from my cheeks with his fingers, cupping my face in his hands. “I’m sorry, baby. It’s all my fault.”
I chuckled softly. “Your fault?” I smiled at him. “I don’t think so.”
“Yes, it is. I should have known Cristo Liron would send men to settle the score with you. I just … never in a million years would I have believed he cared so …” He trailed off, lost in thought, letting his hands fall away before he walked away from the bed, stalking across the room.
“I should’ve flown here and just picked you up and gone home where—I never should’ve left you alone. Fuck!”
“Stop. You’re not psychic, and we deserved a vacation, Sam. Let it go.”
“I—”
“Come back.”
He moved quickly, grabbed the chair that had moved when he got up, and put it down right beside the bed. My hand was taken the second he was seated, and he bent and kissed my knuckles as he gently rubbed my thigh.
“Are those guys dead?”
He was lost in his own thoughts, but I needed him here with me instead of flaying himself for damage he had not done.
“Honey,” I called him, which I seldom ever did.
His eyes lifted to mine.
“Stop already. What’s done is done. We lived. Let’s celebrate. Kiss me again.”
He leaned forward, and I kept my eyes open longer than I normally did, so I saw his eyes dip closed, marveled at the tears beading on the long auburn lashes, and heard his sigh of happiness.
I loved him so much; it hurt sometimes.
His lips sealed to mine, but he didn’t push inside, instead pulling back fast.
“Ahhh,” I grumbled, “why?”
“You just woke up, and you need to rest. Just talk to me.”
“Okay,” I agreed. “Tell me already, did they die? The wannabe ninjas?”
“No. They are, however, in custody, rolling over on Cristo Liron.”
“Oh that’s good,” I said, smiling as he gave me another sip of water. He just looked at me. “What?”
“You were very brave, leading those guys away from me.”
“It was a gamble. I was terrified.”
“But you took it. You had made a decision, and it turned out, as usual, to be right.”
I scoffed. “As usual, my ass.”
“With this kind of stuff—the life-and-death crap—your track record is sort of amazing.”
I nodded, feeling vulnerable all of a sudden, not having looked at the room at all, afraid to, afraid to know how hurt I was. I felt the hot tears come fast.
“Oh, baby, don’t cry.”
“Please don’t leave me.” My voice shook.
“No.” He leaned over and laid his head on my chest.
I put my hand in his hair; it was so short, poking my hand, but still soft, like puppy fur.
I was getting sleepy again. “Stay with me. Don’t leave me.”
“You don’t ever have to worry about that.”
My eyes opened, and I saw Sam flipping through the channels on my TV. I realized instantly that I was in a different room.
“Hey,” I said, coughing. “They moved me.”
“Yeah.” Sam smiled, dropping the controller onto the chair as he moved over to the bed. He poured me some water and put the straw to my lips. “No more ICU for you. Eight days is enough.”
“I don’t remember being in there that long.”
“You didn’t even wake up the first two days,” he told me. “You were real tired.”
“That’s good, huh?” I smiled at him after I drank a little. “That they moved me so fast?”
“Very good,” he said softly, brushing my hair back from my face. “How do you feel?”
“Tell me how I should feel.”
“Lucky,” he said, slipping his hand into mine. “You’re so fuckin’ lucky.”
I smiled at him. “Tell me.”
“First things first,” he murmured, leaning over and hugging me gently, kissing my cheek before he pulled back. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“Okay.” He took a breath. “Here’s what happened.”
I had been hit by the car first and ended up under it, but unfortunately, it followed me over the embankment and landed at an angle.
I was basically in the engine with the crumpled hood around me.
How? It was just the way everything hit.
Apparently, you could wreck a car a hundred times the same way, and each time, something different would happen.
I had been hurt, but not killed because of the trees, the mud, the rain, and the wind. It could never be duplicated.
A nurse came in then and smiled big at Sam.
He introduced her to me as Kaleo, and he told me she was an angel of mercy.
I saw her eyes soften, saw her smile and the basic melting under my husband’s smoky-blue eyes.
She was a smitten kitten. My temperature was taken, my blood pressure, too, and then she checked my bandages and the IV bag hanging beside the bed.
“Oh, you look better,” she told me. “It’s nice to see your color come back.”
“Thank you for taking care of me.” I smiled at her.
“Oh, you’re right,” she told Sam. “Those are the most beautiful brown eyes I’ve ever seen.”
His smile was enormous, and he looked almost proud.
“Sweetheart, it’s our pleasure,” she told me.
I nodded.
She patted my leg, glanced at Sam, and then left.
“I’m okay, then?” I asked, looking up at him.
“No, baby,” he said softly, moving up to the bed, taking my hand in his gently. His voice was like honey as he spoke to me. “You’re not okay.”
“What’s wrong?” I looked at him.
“We gotta wait for a few more tests, and then we’ll know more.”
Why were we waiting on tests? “Sam?”
“Just wait. Please. Dane will be here in a few hours, okay? Let’s wait for him.”
Dane was coming? “Why is Dane coming?”
“Because he’s your brother.”