“So you couldn’t stop yourself, huh?” I rasped. “Had to be a big fucking hero.”
He gave a watery smile and a sob-laugh. “Yeah. Hell, it’s what good guys do, right?”
“Thank you,” I told him sincerely. “I owe you one.”
“You don’t owe me shit,” he said fiercely.
“We’ll have to agree to…disagree,” I said, my voice growing faint. I could feel sleep at the edge of my vision, trying to black me out. That was the thing about getting shot. It was very unpleasant in and of itself, but then you had to put up with all the bullshit afterward, the blood loss, the stitches, the inability to stay awake for more than five minutes because the Doc drugged you up to the eyeballs. “Bax,” I said, refusing to drown yet, “I have to tell you…I…”
“Yes?” He leaned in, trying to hear me, but it was too late. Everything was going dark again.
The last thing I felt were his lips on mine, gentle and trembling, before I gave up and let sleep take me.
* * *
I cameto in a much more comfortable bed, in a room I recognized. I was in Luca D’Amato’s Fifth Avenue townhouse, unless I was very much mistaken.
And Baxter Flynn was asleep in a chair next to me.
Not just next to me, but with his torso slumping forward, arms folded on the bed, and face mashed into them. He was asleep, I realized after a moment, when he gave soft, regular snuffles. Asleep and so close that I could reach out and touch his hair if I wanted to…and I did want to. I wanted to badly enough that I ignored the stabbing pain in my chest as I shifted and reached out.
“Hey,” I tried to say, my voice croaky and gruff. My lips, when I licked them, were cracked and dry. “Hey,” I tried again, a little louder, but my arm was too weak to make it all the way. I dropped it onto his elbow instead, and he jerked awake.
The look of relief and delight that came over his face surprised me. No one had ever looked at me that way before.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hi,” he replied, and grabbed my hand hard, pressing it to his mouth. “Oh, my God. Hi, you crazy fucking mobster.” He was actually teary, but smiling as well.
“Why am I at Luca’s place?” I asked. My head was still so fuzzy, but at least I was propped up on pillows. I felt like lying down prone would have made me feel even dizzier.
“Because he insisted,” Bax said. “He was pretty decent about it. You know, for a Mob Boss.”
I smiled, and it felt like my lips split. “Ow.”
“Here—” Baxter reached over for some lip balm and smeared my mouth. I was too weak to protest. When he added his own lips, kissing me gently, I definitely didn’t want to object.
I did raise my eyebrows at him afterward.
Seeing my face, he said, “When you were bleeding out all over the back of the car, I didn’t know if I’d ever get to kiss you again. So I’m gonna kiss you whenever I feel like it from now on.” He bit his lip and added, “If that’s okay.”
“That’s more than okay. But I’m sorry about my breath.” My voice was getting stronger. “How long have I—”
“Just since yesterday.”
Bax filled me in on what I’d missed, which seemed, essentially, to be more of the same. He and I were now the prime suspects in the death of Captain Matthew Walsh, decorated senior officer of the NYPD, and we had also attacked Dr. Ethan Villiers, an FBI Special Agent and member of the Operation Safe Center Task Force when he had confronted us over Walsh’s body.
As for my current residence in the Boss’s own house, everyone involved had seemed to agree it was for the best. “Finch said I should be allowed to stay, too,” Bax said quietly, playing with my fingers. “I don’t think your Boss liked the idea because…well, because I’m a Fed. Or I was. Whatever. Anyway, a bunch of Morellis arrived at the doctor’s house the day after he patched you up. They wanted to take you away without me, and I—I wouldn’t let them.”
I smiled at that. “Did you threaten to arrest them?”
He gave me an amused look. “Hardly. EvenIcan read the room sometimes. But I said wherever you were going, I was going, too. For a second there, I thought Luca D’Amato was gonna knock me off, you know? But then Finch asked to speak to him privately, and when they came back, D’Amato said I could come with you—but only if I agreed to stay under guard. I’m not allowed to go out of the townhouse. Except to church,” he added. “You all are kind of religious, huh?”
I snorted. “Some more than others. Luca, yes. And Finch has his pet priest at the church a ways up the avenue.”
“Aidan,” he said, nodding. “He’s nice. But he’s not a priest yet—he’s still a novitiate. Anyway, Finch asked me if I wanted to come to church with him and Aidan, light a candle, pray for you. I said I’d rather stay here and make sure your wound was kept clean.”
“Not a believer?”
