He smiles. "Forever and ever babe."
"It's a yes, by the way," I croak.
"To what?"
"Yes, I'll marry you." I choke on a laugh. "Whenever my face gets pretty again."
"It's already beautiful," he says, stroking a hand down one cheek. "But please sleep, Cleo. You have a lot of healing to do."
I nod and let my eyes slide shut. It wasn't the end to the evening I feared and expected. Ryker was alive. Bryan was unhappy but still with us. I would be okay...eventually. And Trent was off the streets for good.
All in all, it wasn't bad for one night's work, was it?
20
Ryker
Cleo is released from the hospital a day and a half later. The head laceration required yet more stitches. The clumsy job I'd done on her thigh had to be sewn up again. Struggling with Trent had reopened the wound. She hadn't suffered a concussion, but the doctors had wanted to keep her under observation until they could rule out any internal bleeding from the beating she suffered.
The bruises on her face looked worse as they had a chance to bloom and I once again wished I'd followed through on my attempt to kill him. Twenty years in a state pen would be worth it to end the man who had done this to Cleo.
"You're thinking about it again," Cleo sighs.
"Thinking about what?" I say innocently.
"You're wishing you'd killed Trent. You always look so sour when you think about it."
"It would have been worth it."
Cleo shakes her head vehemently. "No, it wouldn't have. I need both my men here with me. I can't do this without you."
I suspected she could. Cleo had shown strength negotiating with the Kings earlier in the week. She had more backbone than people gave her credit for. But a sense of pride swells in my chest. My men, she said. I'm finallyhers.
We park the car outside of a Super 8 and I duck inside to get our room keys. Cleo doesn't want to draw unwanted attention to us by parading around the lobby. She looks like she's gone a round or two with a boxer and lost. When I've paid for our room, she ducks her head and carries Bryan all the way to our room. I had to buy a new bassinet, as the fire had claimed the first one.
This Super 8 will be our home for the next month or two until the insurance kicks in and I can have the place rebuilt. Or I could buy a new place.
Cleo spends the better part of an hour trying to get Bryan to sleep. After she deposits him in the bassinet, she comes to curl up beside me on the hotel bed. She draws her feet beneath her and leans her head on my chest. I breathe in the warm cinnamon scent of her, bask in her warmth. There's a lot to be furious about, but at the moment, I'm just glad she's out of Trent's reach. Perhaps now she can heal. Not just from her injuries, but all reminders of what was done to her by the McNeils.
"Did you really mean it? That you'll marry me?" I ask. "It wasn't delirium induced by smoke inhalation?"
Her soft laugh vibrates through my chest. "No, Ryker. You weren't dreaming. I said yes."
"Are you sure?" I tilt her face up so I can look into her dark, smoldering eyes. The sight of her face makes me wince. I should have killed Trent.
"Dead sure," she says.
"You don't have to do it out of a sense of obligation. I won't be hurt if you said--"
"I want you Ryker. I want you so badly I can taste it. But I think we should wait. Let this thing with the gangs shake out. Maybe Trent's death will stop things. You know? Cut the head off the snake so to speak."
"Or it could make it worse," Ryker mutters. "It could be the last straw."
"Do you really think it'll happen?"
"It could. And I need to be there for Cruz if it does. We'll have a long, hard fight on our hands."
She wraps a dainty hand around my forearm and squeezes. Her smile is tinged with sadness at the edges. "It'll all work out, you'll see."
