His chest heaves out a sob.
Then after the longest second, his gun falls to the ground.
Amazing it doesn’t go off.
Kane reaches for a loose brick beside Lee’s head and with one swift hit, he knocks him out cold.
“Just in case. He’ll live,” he tells me, letting the man slump to the floor next to his gun, lifeless.
I’m still on my knees, gripping the statue, staring in wide-eyed horror.
He gently pries my numb hands away, and he still somehow has the energy to carry it back to its stand.
Battered, bruised, and bleeding, he’s perfection.
The most wonderful man alive.
And miraculously, heisalive.
Holy shit, we survived!
“Never walk up to a man with a gun again, duchess,” he says with a thin smile.
“No choice. I thought he was going to shoot you,” I whisper brokenly, giving in to rest my forehead against his chest.
He smells like blood and sweat and stone, mingled with testosterone.
It’s like breathing pine needles, but I don’t care.
This scent is quintessentially Kane, and I’m about two seconds away from losing my last thread of self-control.
“Nah,” he says, embracing me. “Nah, he was just angry. Full of mindless pain. Did he hurt you? Are you okay?”
“I’m okay.”
His hand sweeps my hair, holding me against his wall of a chest.
For a second, we both breathe, inhaling each other and the wonder of being alive and in love.
“Got your call,” he says over my head. “I thought he was hurting you.”
“Only a little. He wanted you. I don’t think he planned to kill me.”
“I’m fucking glad he didn’t.” His voice goes pitch-dark.
“Thank you for coming back.” I run a hand up his back and he flinches. “Areyouhurt? I’m so sorry you took a beating, I—”
“This?” He leans away and glances at a nasty gash on his forearm before wrapping his arm around my waist. “Just a scrape. Come on, woman. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
Even though we’re both okay and I’m so grateful I didn’t have to crush a man’s head, my legs are still weak.
It’s Kane, and only Kane that keeps me standing as we stumble up the stairs.
The rain has slowed to a drizzle by the time we finally surface.
We’re greeted by a reassuring blueberry-cherry flash of lights.
“Better late than never,” I whisper.
