Chapter 44 New Beginnings
I purse my lips and reread my highlights about standard deviation calculations while the beeping machines at the hospital hum around me, familiar and reassuring. Most people don’t like hospital sounds, but if someone is hurt, those beeps are what’s keeping them alive.
One week ago, Blake died in front of me for the second time. I thought I’d feel grief again. After all, I once believed I’d spend the rest of my life with him.
But oddly, it wasn’t there.
I was angry. At him. At myself for not seeing the truth earlier. I was terrified of losing Ren.
The Blake I thought I loved back then was a mirage. And Ren? He taught me to love myself. All the pieces I show and all the pieces I hide.
And the love I feel for him far eclipses anything I can ever describe.
The IV machine beeps again, and I glance up. Time for a change. Smiling, I replace the empty bag with a new one and sit back down.
Lana, who visited earlier, said the place gives her the creeps. No doubt she was thinking of what happened to Elias last year. Scarlett swiftly handed her a cup of chamomile tea—for her nerves—as if she anticipated her needing it.
Flipping a page, I groan when I encounter more data interpretation exercises.
Ugh. I swear the GRE is purposefully designed to make competent adults question their desire to go back to school, dammit.
I can handle a trauma bay at three in the morning, but apparently bar graphs and complicated formulas are where I draw the line.
“You are so adorable when you’re mad,” Ren murmurs.
A smile breaks across my face as I set down my GRE prep book on the chair and go to his side.
“How are you feeling today?” I brush his black hair out of his eyes. His beard’s thick after a week in the hospital.
“Fine. Can’t wait to get out of here.”
“Stitches okay? On a scale of one to ten, how bad’s the pain?”
Frowning, I pull his blanket off and examine the bandage over his chest. We got lucky this time. The doctor said one inch higher and the bullet would’ve hit his heart. As it is, it’s only muscles, a broken rib, and blood loss.
“Zero,” Ren replies.
“What! That’s impossible.” I fuss over him again. Is there latent nerve damage? I know some neurologists. I can call them—
“Because you’re here, my gongzhu.”
I still and arch my brow. “Mister I don’t like to speak sure likes to sweet-talk.”
“Only with you.”
“You incorrigible flirt—”
My words vanish when he smiles at me. The brilliant, teeth-baring smile that scrambles my pulse. His eyes warm, and he scrapes a finger over my cheek.
“You mean it,” I whisper.
“I mean all of it.” He shifts on the bed. “The pain’s nothing. Because it’ll get better.”
Slowly, he links our fingers together and brings them to his lips before pressing a gentle kiss on them.
“And we have all the time in the world,” he rasps.
Tears threaten, but I blink them away. “Yes, we do.”
I gently trace my fingers over his chest, feeling the thumps of his healthy, beating heart. “They said the donor was a family man. Loved his wife a lot.”
After the fallout with Blake, I dug through medical records and narrowed down the donor to one of his former patients who passed away the morning of the shootout. Suspicious cause of death, no doubt engineered by the bastard.
“A good man,” Ren says.
I look up and smile. “With a good soul, just like yours.”
We stare at each other, our world shrinking to the mere inches between us. I wet my lips and his eyes snare on the motion.
He clutches my nape. My eyes shut—
“Boom! And they live happily ever after,” a wry voice sounds from the doorway.
“I told you he was fine. No need for me to be here. I have court.” That’s Sebastian.
“You were the one who called the meeting,” Sofia says.
“To see if my investment paid off. I’m the reason he got that transplanted heart last year,” Sebastian mutters. “Need to make sure the idiot hasn’t ruined it yet.”
More bickering ensues.
I press my forehead against Ren’s. He’s trying not to laugh. And failing.
“They aren’t going away, are they?” he whispers.
“I don’t think so.”
“Do you know how much leverage it took to get that donor heart diverted to him when his ticker gave out on the operating table?” Sebastian continues.
“I called in favors, buried paperwork, had to throw in a fucking donation. The least he could do was not get himself shot in the chest when he was supposed to be ‘Si Shen.’ Not that I care, but I knew you dirtbags would go nuts if Ren died…”
Sebastian drones on in the background, and something crosses my mind.
I snort. Then snicker. Then burst out laughing.
“What?” Ren caresses my face.
“The monologue,” I mumble. “He’s doing the damn monologue!”
A snort tumbles out of him, and we crack up.
I don’t know how long we laugh for. But later, after wiping my happy tears with my sleeve, I finally turn toward the sizable group gathered at the door.
Sebastian’s eyes narrow into slits.
The man next to him, I presume the hacker I’ve heard about, grins.
Sofia taps her black nails against her pursed lips, but her eyes are shining with joy.
Rafe clutches a rosary in his hand, his lips tilting into a ghost of a smile.
Tristan and Elias are speaking in hushed tones, their voices serious.
Then Elias snaps his fingers. “Safe to say, he’s fine. Let’s leave the lovebirds alone. Your bickering gives me a headache.”
He winks at me and pivots out of the room.
The crowd disperses. Sofia gives me a small wave before she departs. Sebastian and the hacker continue arguing—this time it’s something about someone needing to grovel more. Rafe shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose.
Tristan lingers behind as he takes out his wallet and flips it open, his tall frame unmoving as he stares at something inside.
“You okay?” I stand.
Something about his heavy stillness worries me.
He jolts and snaps the wallet shut before sliding it into his pocket. “I’m fine.”
Raking his fingers through his hair, he clears his throat and straightens, once again the calm and efficient FBI agent.
“I started an investigation into the trafficking ring,” he says, “the parts of it that’ll bring down what’s left of the Kong enterprises. No doubt there’ll still be snakes who’ve slipped away, things we can’t legitimize.”
I nod. None of this is surprising.
“But I have good news for you both.” A rare smile transforms his face. “Part of my investigation is reviewing in-flight transplants at major hospital systems and seeing if they match the records we got at the Kong residence.”
Something bright cracks open inside me. Ren squeezes my hand.
“Celia’s getting a heart,” Tristan announces. “Paperwork’s processing. Donor’s from the cartels. Someone who got what she deserved in a drug bust over the weekend.”
Then Tristan turns to me. “And as I was perusing the hospital records, I saw info about a little boy getting a liver. And a note saying to contact you with updates.”
My lips part, and for a moment the world quiets as I process what this means.
Celia and Grayson are getting second chances.
They’ll survive.
Whirling toward Ren, a shriek bursts free, and I glimpse his smiling face and teary eyes before I throw myself into his arms, careful to avoid his injury.
“Life’s usually not fair,” I sob into his shoulder.
“But damn fair this time.” Ren clutches me tightly to him and laughs.
Two months later
The bell on the door of Ink and Vines jingles as I throw it open and nudge a blindfolded Aria inside.
“You’re keeping me in the dark,” Aria grumbles.
“You like being in the dark.” I tug her to my front and whisper, “If I recall correctly, last month, you specifically asked me to cause a blackout when you least expect it and to take you then.”
Memories of fevered moans and grappling hands flash behind my eyelids.
“And you were so hot for it.” I pinch her peaked nipple over her shirt. “Remember, Aria?”
A whimper slips out of her, and she rubs her delectable backside against me.
Against my hard cock.
Fuck.
“Seems like you were hotter for it,” she says with a smile in her voice. “If I like this surprise…I’ll let you do it again. Tonight at the cabin. You, me, no interruptions. All the darkness you can weaponize.”
This time, she grabs my neck, pulling me down so my ear is at her lips. “Maybe you can take me in the ass this time. Pop my cherry.”
My dick throbs, wetness beading at the tip.
I growl. “You’ll pay for this later.”
“I’m counting on it.” She grins.
Someone clears his throat, and I look up, finding Devon, my usual tattoo artist, smirking.
“Everything’s set up,” he says. “Come with me.”
I follow, carefully guiding Aria along the path.
“What’s set up? Can you give me a little hint, please?”
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
Aria grumbles more complaints as we enter a private back room, and I set her down in one of the two chairs.
“Now you can take off your blindfold.” I sit in the other chair.
Like a puppy seeing snow for the first time, she yanks off the cloth, excitement rolling off her petite frame.
“You didn’t.” She gasps, her eyes widening as she takes in everything I’ve prepared for her.
The place is decorated with Queen of the Night tulips. In vases. On hanging planters. In bouquets wrapped with black parchment paper.
“Oh my God,” she whispers, her hands pressed against her chest. “What’s all this for?”
I shrug. “Nothing. Just because. I don’t need a reason to spoil you.”
Aria’s face crumbles. She runs into my outstretched arms and climbs onto my lap.
“How is Si Shen so romantic?”
“I don’t think I’m Si Shen anymore.”
At least not officially. With the Kongs disbanded, the Triads are regrouping and, in a rare allowance, I’ve quit the organization and am working with Elias full-time.
“No one can replace you,” she mumbles into my chest. “You’re one of a kind.”
“No…you are.”
She lifts her head, beaming her pretty smile at me. Then she takes in the tattoo instruments, her eyes widening once again. “Hold on a second. Are we getting inked?”
“You said you hated your sunflower tattoo. Figured it’s time to change it.”
“Into what?”
“Up to you.” I bop her nose. “Your choice. I’ll get whatever you get. Just please…remember I have a reputation to protect.”
She snickers. “Afraid I’m going to make you get something girly? Like a glittery butterfly?”
I shudder, nightmarish images of The Syndicate laughing their heads off flashing before me.
But I swallow and grit out the next words, “I’ll still get it. Damn glittery butterfly.”
Aria laughs and kisses me, all hunger and want. I can’t get enough of her sweet scent, her honeyed taste. A languid heat fills me as I fist her hair and angle her head back so I can kiss her deeper.
I’ll get butterflies. Hundreds of them. Thousands. All for her.
“Christ.” Devon clears his throat. “You two. Have you decided?”
Mind fogged, I pull away, taking in Aria’s glazed eyes and swollen lips.
Belatedly, I register Devon’s question and turn to Aria. “Have you decided?”
Her eyes sweep around the room and a slow smile curves her lips.
“Yes.” She hops off my lap and onto her chair. “I know just what to get.”
Then the vixen blows me a kiss and winks. “Don’t worry. No glittery butterflies. Maybe.”
I groan and bite back my smile, settling into my chair as another artist enters the room.
Whatever it is, I’ll love it.
Because of her.
Because she chose it.
And she chose me.