“Hah. Someone has balls. Or had.Hadballs and a heartbeat. All the stuff necessary to live.” After a solo giggle, my eyes widened. “You’re serious.”
Lachlan and I sat at the edge of the bed, and he explained how his family put their lives on the line to help me escape my family’s lounge.My.Family. It was a safe space. I inquired how the MacKenzies fled, and he confirmed that they … left.
A little loopy, I strolled to the door, opened it, and peeked through the gap. I blinked at the back of heads. Chevelle’s hair pressed like Momma’s. Justice’s kinky coils. Rory’s hard, perfectly gelled hair. Nan’s short tresses curled underneath her ears. And the others. I shut the door softly. Gotta figure out how to thank them for saving me. “Lach, are we visiting Scotland?”
“I thought it best you get away. But you gotta call Vassili, love. He’s not answering me.”
I nodded, sliding onto the bed’s edge, living in an alternate universe. “How?” I murmured.
“Borya had some repelling?—”
“Borya? He has the key to my house! He’s my friend.”
“Friend? Nae, Tash. You are mistaken.” Lachlan cleared his throat. Voice a little less tight, he added, “Best not to consider him as a friend anymore.”
“No crap,” I muttered, deciding to pocket his betrayal for another day. Borya … was my friend. I crawled to the bed’s edge and pushed up the plastic curtain. Misty clouds rushed past. “Okay. We’re flying high. Wait. Your game. Tonight …”
“Sprained wrist.” Lachlan wiggled his perfectly fine hand.
“So, the same doctor who pumped me full of IV fluids gave you a note that excuses you for …”
“Two weeks. We can return sooner.”
My gaze traced his hollow eyes and a tuft of his usually windswept hair sticking up in front. This man hadn’t slept a wink. Hadn’t found peace because of what nearly happened to me.
But what?
Ransom?
Ra—
Not ready to allow my mind to drag through the mud, I tussled my fingers in his hair. My fingerprints slid over the side of his face and a jaw cut in marble. My thumbs brushed over his mouth, and he planted his hands over the back of mine, kissing my thumbprints. He inhaled. Deep. Good. I surveyed his handsome face, wishing I held a camera but also wishing I didn’t—that we could remain this way forever. He’d become my living photograph. Always mine. I delighted in how his massive chest rose between us in another deep exhale. The sort of exhale he probably denied himself last night while worrying over me.
My fingertips brushed over his lashes, the tip of his nose, and back to those lips my eyes once darted toward and away from without my consent.
He pressed another soft kiss to my fingers. Reverent and sure.
Before a moan could fall from my lips, Lachlan stepped back, torture tightening his features.
“What?” I asked.
“I … don’t know what he intended to do.”
Lachlan’s Adam’s apple moved, strained. And the relaxed look that washed over him while I loved him with my hands vanished. He was as keyed up as ever, and we’d both fallen into a trap of dark imaginings.
“Lach—”
“I remember when Lorenzo wanted you.”
The pulse at my throat rocked. Wasn’t that name taboo? A sore subject?
“He’d called my job, my career, a game.” Lachlan locked his hands behind his head and paced away from me, only to softly thump his forehead against the door. Regret groaned past his lips. “The lad was right. It’s a game.”
“Excuse me? You’re both wrong.” I took his shoulders, but I’d never have the strength to turn him around. Luckily, he did my job for me. Faced me. Stared down. Way down. Though an entire head taller than me, he didn’t meet my eyes.
“Look at me.” I tapped his chin. “Thatgameis your passion. Your passion is my delight.Andyou have this face.”
A smile wavered. “How is my face relevant?”
