Forty-Four
Lukas
It’s nice to wake up. Even nicer to see my Little Stray in a chair beside my bed.
She’s asleep, her legs tucked beneath her, wearing doctor’s scrubs. Her hair is freshly washed, clean of my blood.
She’s never looked more adorable.
The pain management is making me fuzzy around the edges, and it’s extra effort to concentrate.
An IV runs into my arm. My leg is strapped up and raised.
The thigh doesn’t concern me; that’ll heal easily enough.
Neither do my ribs, which will scar but it was only a graze.
My shoulder is the greater concern, and I flex my hand, relief loosening my chest when everything works as it should.
So the bullet missed the nerves. A few weeks, and I’ll be mostly recovered. A few months, and I’ll be fit again. I need to be able to defend my wife. And hell, I need to be able to pin her down.
That wide-eyed expression she gave me when I kissed her and told her I loved her? I wasn’t going to die after that. I need more of it. I need it more than food, or water, or air. She’s my strength, my reason to live, my all.
As if she can feel my scrutiny, Amelia stirs. She blinks sleepily, then meets my gaze. I smile at her. She glares back.
“You… bastard, Lukas. Don’t ever do that to me again.” She’s out of her chair, dashing her sleeve across her eyes, reaching for my hand before she stops herself. “Can I… are you…”
“I’m fine.” I take her hand in mine and tug her down to sit on the edge of the bed. “You called me Lukas.”
She glances away, biting at her lip. “I think you said it was your name.”
“And yours is Little Stray.” I give her hand a squeeze. “Thank you for saving my life.”
She meets my gaze, tears glistening. “Thank you for saving mine.”
“Anytime,” I murmur.
“What happened?” The pulse in her wrist ticks against my fingertips, too fast. “Who was it? Why did they come?”
I clench my jaw. Whoever it was will die for bringing that note to my Little Stray’s voice. “I assume Volkovs. I’ll find out, and I’ll make sure—”
“You said it was over! You said—”
“I know. I’m sorry.” They’ve made a liar of me… again. I’ve let her down… again. Rage unfolds within me, cold and sharp, clearing my mind of these damn opioids. I welcome it; I want to be thinking clearly.
She shakes her head. “They broke into our house! What if they’d killed you?”
“They didn’t. We’re both fine.” I take a breath, thoughts racing ahead. “I need to speak to Bastien. I will hunt them down for this. I swear, I will—”
“No,” she cuts me off, eyes flashing. “You said you quit! You are not running off for another three months on some crusade.”
I hear the hurt in her voice and close my eyes, my anger dissolving in the face of her need. Then I open them once more, and she’s looking at me with such yearning. How could I abandon her again?
“I’m sorry, you’re right,” I say softly. “I won’t leave you. We’ll find a way, but I’ll be at your side every moment.” I pause. “Is that what you want?”
“Yes, it’s what I want,” she says, like it’s obvious. “You’re my husband, damn it. I love—” She cuts herself off, eyes going wide.
I go still. Neither of us breathes. “You were saying?”
“Uh…” A furious blush spreads over her cheeks, down her pretty neck. “Nothing.”
“Finish that sentence,” I order. “What do you love, Little Stray?”
“…our dates,” she finishes lamely.
I gaze at her. “Then we’ll have some more.”
We both know what she was about to say. My wife loves me. My blood heats, and suddenly, none of my injuries matter.
“Yes,” she says, quiet and thoughtful. “When you’re better.”
“Lie down with me?” I ask. “My right side is fine.”
She doesn’t hesitate, squeezing in against me. It pulls at my wounds, but the pain is worth it. I fight not to tense or wince, and then she’s settled, half draped over me, my arm around her. The scrubs she’s wearing are thin, her body soft and warm beneath, and her hair smells fresh and clean.
She is the best medicine of all.
“You were wonderful last night,” I say softly.
Her hand presses against my chest. “It was Bastien, mostly. He sent a helicopter. This place is amazing.”
“Yes, it’s part of Apex Medical. Bastien owns it, we’re safe here.”
“Tony’s on the door outside. I saw Jorge, too.”
Bastien being overprotective. “That’s a bonus.”
“I hesitated,” she says bitterly. “I got you shot, and if I’d come when you said—”
“Then he would’ve killed you.” I almost choke on the words. “You would’ve been between him and me, and I would never have reached you in time.”
She tenses beneath my arm, her breathing rapid.
“So it all worked out for the best, didn’t it?” I say, forcing calm for her benefit. “You handled yourself perfectly. So strong, so fierce.”
“You haven’t seen the Maybach yet.”
I chuckle. “Don’t we have a racetrack on the date list?”
“Gun ranges. Advanced driving. Are you trying to recruit me, Mr. Van Wyk?”
“Lukas,” I say with a smile.
“That was different,” she argues. “I said ‘mister’ that time.”
“I know. I caught it.” I kiss the top of her head. “I don’t think you’re cut out for my line of work.”
“Neither are you.”
“I quit, remember? From now on, no more violence.”
She’s quiet for a long moment. “That would be nice,” she says at last. “Is it true, though?”
“I’ll do the best I can,” I promise her.
It’s a long moment before she speaks again. “I’ll accept that. Thank you for not lying.”
Bastien turns up late evening, Anna in tow as usual, but no sign of Natalie. That tells me all I need to know.
He sits in a chair while Anna stands behind him. Amelia has pulled her chair closer to my bed, and we hold hands while we listen.
“It was the Volkovs,” he begins without preamble. “They were in touch this morning, delivering the head of one of their brigadiry to our Sentinel Risk office in New York, along with a note of explanation. He went rogue, and they cleaned house.”
“So it’s really over?” Amelia asks.
Bastien and I exchange a look.
“It’s a ‘probably’ not a ‘yes,’” I tell her honestly. “We won’t relax our guard.” I look at Bastien. “Was Natalie aware?”
“Natalie?” Amelia echoes, her brow furrowing.
“I don’t believe so, but I’ve kept her out of it.”
“Good,” I say. “Are you going to keep her?”
Bastien lets a smile curl his lips. “I haven’t quite decided what to do with her. A few ideas come to mind.”
“I’m sure they do,” I say dryly.
“Wait… what does Nat have to do with this?” Amelia asks.
“She’s a Volkov,” Bastien replies, then tilts his head. “Maybe not strictly. She’s not Russian.”
Amelia looks at me. “She’s a Volkov?”
“They blackmailed me to put someone close to Bastien,” I explain.
Her eyes narrow. “You mean they threatened you through me.”
“They tried,” I say with a smile. “It was to be a secret. Naturally, I told Bastien immediately.”
“We decided to play along,” Bastien says. “Natalie isn’t aware I know.”
“Keep your friends close…” I murmur.
“…and your enemies beneath you,” he finishes with a chuckle.
Amelia looks between us like we’re mad.
“You should go away for a while,” Bastien suggests. “Go off grid until you’re healed.”
I shake my head. “No. Amelia will hate that.”
“No, she won’t,” Amelia says firmly. “Not if I’m with you. We can go anywhere.”
Bastien smiles like we’re being cute. “I have a house in Coastal Maine, on the beach. It’ll be cold in April, but there’s a large hearth.”
“Does it have a pool?” I ask.
“It does, and enough rooms for a nurse to be on call around the clock.”
“I won’t need that.”
“Yes, you will,” Amelia says. “But I’ll be your nurse. We don’t want anyone else there.”
“I’m afraid you won’t be quite alone,” Bastien demurs. “I’ll be sending you Tony and Jorge until Lukas has fully recovered. They’ll be discreet.”
She bristles. “I don’t need jailers.”
“They’re not for you, they’re for me,” I say quietly.
Bastien inclines his head. “If I can’t protect my friends, what’s the point of being rich?”
It’s a week before I’m stable enough to leave the hospital, and when we transfer to Maine, a nurse comes with us. Amelia isn’t happy but says nothing, understanding the need.
A week after that, Bastien calls me.
“I have a little problem,” he says bluntly.
“I’m not sure how much help I’ll be.”
“It’s not you I need. It’s Amelia.”
She’s sitting in a chair near my bed, legs tucked up beneath her, reading her book, pretending not to listen.
I flick the phone to speaker and drop it on the bed. “She’s here with me.”
“Hi, Amelia,” Bastien says.
“You’re not taking my husband anywhere,” Amelia says coldly.
He chuckles down the line. “As I was just explaining, it’s you I’m requesting.”
She looks at me in confusion. “Go on.”
“You remember the PI? Victoria Callahan?”
“Of course,” I say, while Amelia nods, brow furrowing and a hint of a scowl appearing.
“It transpires she was retained by Amelia’s sister.”
Her eyebrows go up in surprise.
“Was she now?” I ask, amused.
“She’s… uh… mandated that Amelia be allowed to meet her client.”
“Why am I hearing coercion?”
“Because you know how to listen,” Bastien bites off. “Let’s say it’s… mutually advantageous for them to meet.”
“Do we know why she’s requesting this?”
“She believes Amelia is being held against her will.”
Hmm. She’s not wrong. But is she out of date?
I look at my wife, my shoulders tightening, exacerbating the ache in my wound. I don’t know how she’ll respond, and that troubles me.
“Tell her I’m not,” Amelia says firmly, watching me.
The breath I’m holding drains out of me, and my body relaxes. I feel like there are no more weights pressing down on me, stronger than I have been in weeks, despite my injuries. I reach for her, and she comes over, gripping my hand.
I love you, I mouth at her.
She leans in close, her lips by my ear. “You’re cute, but you’re still a bastard.”
Bastien’s still speaking. “That won’t work, I’m afraid. The request is a meeting in person. I can fly you down.”
“Lukas isn’t strong enough to travel.”
“For this, I am,” I demur.
“It’s her alone, my friend. That’s what they’ve… asked.” He pauses. “Would that be possible?”
“One moment.” I put the phone on mute. “What do you think?”
“You’re asking me?”