“Please, tell me ye will support me.” She rests her forehead against mine. “I canna do it without ye. I know ye’ll find me, wherever he takes me.”
My life has been dedicated to looking after the ones I love. Keeping them from harm. A protector. If I do this, sending my wife back into the gaping jaw of that evil feck, what does that make me?
Her husband. The one who knows better than anyone exactly what she is capable of.
Cupping her face in my hands, I kiss her hard,lips against teeth, tongues twining together, gripping her like she’s slipping away from me already.
“I will always support ye,” I say hoarsely. “But there’s one thing ye will have to do for me. And you’ve been fighting me for years on it.”
She pulls back to glare at me, her lips still wet and well-kissed.
Chapter Thirty
In which Catriona steps into the maw of the monster.
Lucas…
The next day…
“It’s unbecoming of ye to look so happy.” Cat’s glaring up at me from the big, padded chair in Dr. MacTavish’s office.
“Not happy, lass. Relieved.”
The doctor’s putting together her equipment, swiftly sterilizing her scalpel while Ryan sets the tracker reverently on the tray, showing her how to place it.
“Of all my genius creations, this is my most brilliant,” he brags to her. He’s a big lad, with blue eyes and tousled dark hair that he fusses with when he thinks no one is looking.
Dr. MacTavish is unimpressed by his charm, though I can tell the device has her interest. “So, the intramuscular placement will keep it from being detected? There are some very sophisticated scanners out there.”
“Aye, ye slide it under the quadricep here-” he points to the monitor, “and the angle along with the thickest part of the muscle bounces any scanner right back.”
Cat is turning a bit green, and I say, “Let’s move this along, aye? Less shop talk and more lidocaine.”
“Are ye ready, Catriona?” The doc smiles sympathetically. She’s one of the few in the clan with the Scottish bright red hair and freckles, an older, no-nonsense woman who’s stitched up plenty of MacTavishes.
“Grand, just grand,” my wife lies. “Let’s get to it, if ye dinnae mind.”
“Here we go, then.” The doctor’s hands are quick and experienced; she makes the smallest possible incision to implant the tracker and places a few tiny stitches to close it. Ryan’s watching the ultrasound monitor to track the placement and then turns to his laptop.
“Let’s light this wee beauty up, then!” He grins hugely, pointing to his laptop. “Perfect placement and it’s tracking just as it should. Aye, I am a genius.”
“Please, love. Just tell him he’s a genius and I can get ye out of here,” I whisper, kissing Cat’s cheek.
“You’re a genius, ye are,” she repeats. “Now turn the damn thing off until I’m ready to go.”
Ryan looks a wee bit disappointed but closes his laptop.
We take a shower together back at the cottage, after I spend a great deal of time wrapping her bandage in plastic to be sure it won’t get wet.
“How many teams do ye have ready?” Cat asks, whilst calmly packing a few sensible outfits, leggings, trainers, and comfortable sweaters. She’d told me about the ridiculous, fussy clothes Dubois had insisted she wear.
“Sixteen,” I say. “We can deploy to any corner of the world within an hour.”
She shoves the bag off the bed and grabs me, her fists gripping my arms tightly, suddenly no longer so calm. “I need ye. Please. I need something to remember.”
“I know, sweet Cat. I know.” I roll her onto her back, feeling her desperation and it’s matching mine. I pull off her towel and thrust into her, carefully raising her bandaged thigh.
“Harder.” Her voice is like a sob.
