32. Dante
Dante
I read through the evidence in search of Sara’s proof.
I don’t find any mention of who treated Jackson last, and I don’t possess enough medical knowledge to judge if the notes on his vitals or injuries seem off.
Which is funny. I spend so much time damaging the human body that I should probably understand more about how it functions.
Tossing the creased paper onto her bedside table, I nuzzle the graceful curve of her neck.
She smells so good.
“I’ll look into it.” An easy promise to offer her. After all, Sara’s been working her ass off, questioning every clinic visitor over the last several days. I’d hoped she could duplicate the Jackson scenario by getting a patient to open up after I broke them down, but so far, no luck.
I hate everything about this. These are the very same men and women who depend on me for safety, and every interrogation feels like a betrayal of that trust. Still, I can’t just allow a potential threat to Sara to walk away unscathed.
I’m only powerful enough to protect those I care about because I show no mercy. If I change that, I risk damaging my reputation as a cold, unyielding bastard and the relative safety that persona provides.
With the Council looking over my shoulder, I can’t afford to take that chance.
Stress over who I can and can’t trust eats at me. These days, I only relax my guard when I’m with Sara.
But I can’t continue like this forever, and neither can she.
Because of me, Sara can never go back to living a normal life, and I don’t think she’s truly realized as much yet.
When I first asked the Council for permission to abduct her, I promised I would get rid of her once I was done with my fun.
While those plans have changed, I still can’t let her go home.
She knows too much. The best I can do for her, and Jeremy for that matter, is help her escape.
If she flees the city and changes her identity, she might be okay, but even hiding may not be enough if she doesn’t lie low.
And most people struggle with remaining hidden forever.
Except running isn’t even possible unless I eliminate the latest threat.
Also, there’s the small issue of my heart revolting over the idea of Sara leaving for good.
“Why don’t you take a few days off from the clinic?
” I place a kiss just below her ear, smiling when she shivers.
“We can spend some time on your sight alignment and trigger control with your new pink Glock. And you can help me with Pistol. I’ve been so caught up with all this bullshit, I haven’t been able to play with her much, and I think she’s starting to feel neglected. ”
Sara squirms free so she can look me in the eye. “You don’t believe me. About Jackson’s death.”
Her lips purse together. She wants to be useful, but I don’t see how the discrepancy over how he died is a path forward. Dead is dead. “I handpicked everyone on the medical team because I knew they would be easy to control. That, and they were heavily vetted.”
I don’t notice that I’m using my thumb to rub small circles on her ankle until she slaps my hand away. “Focus. What do you mean ‘easy to control’?”
Sighing, I shift on the bed and lean back on my hands. “They’re all being blackmailed. And if that isn’t enough reason for them to keep their mouths shut about what they see in here, the money should be. I pay them three times as much as what they’d make at a regular hospital.”
Sara’s mouth drops open, and she blinks at me, stunned. “Three times!”
“What?” I chuck her under the chin, and her lips snap shut. “Not enough? You and I never discussed pay for your invaluable work in the clinic, did we?” To my surprise, she rolls off the bed, even more agitated than before.
“Don’t try to distract me.” Marching over to the table, she picks the paper back up again and waves it in my face.
“There is no way Jackson Reed died of internal bleeding, and I have to figure out which of the nurses worked in the clinic that night. They could be our mole! You need to take this seriously.”
Rising from the bed, I stalk toward her and back her into the bedside table, planting my hands on either side of her hips. “Believe me, tesoro, I am.”
Sara appears uncertain. “Then I need you to take me seriously.”
Where does this lack of confidence stem from?
I duck my head to catch her eyes again. “What makes you think I’m not?”
She pushes on my chest in a silent request for space, but I refuse to budge. If I have to keep her pinned against the nightstand all night long to obtain answers, I will. “Sara.”
“Because I’m a fuck up.”
I recoil in surprise. “You…what?”
Sara’s bottom lip trembles, and when she tries to pull free, I don’t let her.
Her touch makes me feel more like a man and less like a shadow of who I used to be.
I hope mine can offer her even a fraction of the same comfort.
I grasp her hand to hold her palm over my heart, and the pulse in her wrist speeds up to match mine.
Angry fire licks through my veins until my entire body smolders. “Who fed you that bullshit? Give me a name.”
Sara glares up at me. “Nobody had to tell me anything. It’s obvious, isn’t it? You, Jeremy, my father.” Her lashes sweep down to hide the sheen of tears. “I screw up everyone’s lives. You know that better than anyone.”
Her words stir a vehement denial from my very core. How could she believe such things about herself? That she isn’t the treasure I know she is?
Then I realize that she doesn’t need convincing. She needs an opportunity. A chance to prove her worthiness and capability to herself.
Time for a little tough love.
“So, prove me wrong.” I fold my arms across my chest while Sara stares at me in stunned silence.
“What?” She sniffles, but the challenge stirs life in those blue eyes.
“You’re right. No one wants help from a fuck up, so put in some actual effort and show me what you can do.” I arch my brows. “Or is crying about it supposed to be helpful somehow?”
Her mouth twists, and I swear her jaw clicks as she stabs her finger into my chest. “I’m sorry…effort? All I do is put in effort. You think my nursing degree just fell out of the sky?”
I clear my throat to cover a laugh before feigning confusion. “But you said it yourself, didn’t you? You fail everything you try. With you raising him, it’s a miracle Jeremy accomplished as much as he did.”
Check.
Sara’s lips part as she fixes me with a half-shocked, half-outraged expression.
Checkmate.
I’ve clearly been training her well during our sparring sessions because the force of the blow rocks me back on my heels. I press a hand gingerly to my face, my ears ringing, my nose stinging like hell. “Damn, Boyd.”
Sara stalks past me, fuming, only to whip back around a moment later, her blue eyes blazing.
There she is.
“I raised Jeremy by myself when I was just barely out of high school. You give that a try and then get back to me. Do you understand how difficult that was?” She drags her hands through her hair and continues ranting.
“Of course you don’t. You’re the boss. Everyone caters to you and your every whim like you shit pure gold. ”
Choking, I press a fist to my mouth to muffle a startled laugh.
Sara’s on a roll, though, so she doesn’t seem to notice my mirth.
“Meanwhile, people walk all over me. Maybe I brought it on myself by always bending over backward for everyone and their mother, because I didn’t think I deserved better. ”
“If you think that’s the case, then do something about it.”
Sara marches up and gets in my face. “I may not be perfect, but I’m good at my job. I am the nurse. You are the organized crime guy. You whack people, and I explain how they got whacked and treat their injuries from the whacking. That’s the dynamic.”
I’m all too happy to agree. “Okay.”
“There’s something wrong with Jackson’s file, and we need to…wait, what?” She blinks as if waking from a trance, and I lose my battle to smother a smile.
“I said okay. If you think someone murdered Jackson, then look into it and report back to me. I’ll have Luca get you the proper admin clearance so there won’t be any more obstacles in your way.
” Crowding close, I lift a lock of her hair in my fingers.
“I know perfectly well what you’re capable of, tesoro.
You don’t ever have to worry about me not seeing you.
You need me to run interference on this Jackson angle, or you got it? ”
She opens her mouth, closes it, then shakes her head. “I, uh, I got it.”
“Good.” With that settled, I return to nuzzling her neck. “I have to confess, I prefer the spitfire over the doormat. You should yell at me more often.”
Incredulous, Sara bursts out laughing. “I’m sure that won’t be a problem.”
I smack her on the ass, squeeze the flesh in one strong hand, and press her against my cock.
“Let’s work on that letter for a bit longer and then head to bed.
” I drink in her disheveled curls and flushed cheeks.
“But first, some sassy vixen punched me in the face, and I need a hot nurse to take a look at it for me.”
I’ll never admit this to anyone, but Marco and I are more alike than I thought.