I don't know anything at all.
Certainly I don’t understand when a heavy weight slams over me, knocking what little air is left in my lungs straight from my body.
I cough, and someone swears.
“Christ, princess. I’m sorry. That wasn’t the way I meant for him to fall. Come on. Up with me.” Broad arms I know intimately wrap around me, I rest my cheek on Drake’s shoulder, letting him slide me out from beneath the world’s heaviest weight. “Fuck, Cha Cha. You’re covered in— Jesus. I’m sorry. I wasn’t here in time. I was—” Drake swears again, easing me in his arms.
Bright light leaves my eyes watering. I wince. “Ow,” I croak, and flinch at the hideous sound that comes out.
Drake’s horrified face comes into view. “Come on, princess. I got you. Let’s wash you off over here.” He takes a cloth and pats at my face. I try to turn my head but my neck hurts. And my shoulders, and my back. “Don’t try,” he murmurs. “Everything's gonna be sore for a really long time. I’m sorry.” Regret lines his face. “Fuck, little queen. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there." He places a gun on the bench top and rinses out the cloth, nestling me against his shoulder.
I try to twist to look over at the shower, but he turns me away.
“Don’t look,” Drake says in a low voice. “He can’t hurt you. Not anymore.”
“He knew?—”
“He did. He wrote them. The letters. I found one on your bed.” A muscle works in his jaw as he washes my face and then, with the sort of tenderness I’ve never experienced in my adult life, Drake touches my throat. “I’m sorry, princess. Let’s get you some ice.”
I swallow as he wraps me in a dry towel and carries me from the bathroom. The pain consumes me for a full minute as I struggle between the action, choking on my own saliva, and breathing. “L–l–”
“I’ll get you water.” Drake wraps an icepack around me and pulls a blanket from a chair, wrapping me in that too. He refuses to put me down, and I nestle deeper into his chest.
“L–l–”
“Don’t talk,” he murmurs. “Save it, princess.”
I glare at him, and inhale through my nose the best I can. “I fucking love you,” I rasp out. Something aches, like I tore something in my throat, but I get the words to him.
Drake stills for a fraction of a second, then his mouth descends on mine in a sweet kiss that leaves me more than breathless. “Love you too,” he whispers back. “But right now, I have to fuss over you and fix this mess that should never have happened in my home. Here, you should have been safe. I know,” he strokes my cheek, and adjusts my ice pack— "I know that he knew us both. I know you were with him.”
The conversation from our first day together sits between us. A shadow flickers across his eyes.
I hate that, and tap his chest. “No,”I mouth.“I only love you.”I poke his chest with one finger to make my point, doing my best to conserve my voice but get it through his head at the same time.
Drake watches me carefully. “Same, princess. Are there any other ex-lovers I have to take out in this quest to be your one andonly? Because I’ll do it.” He kisses the corner of my mouth with extreme care. “Promise.”
That last word is said so softly I barely hear him even though it's only us here, but that makes it all the more solemn.
“I believe you.”I make sure he’s looking at me so he sees my mouth move.
Drake follows the words with his eyes, and smiles. “That’s good, princess. You keep believing in me, and we’re good.” His smile fades after a moment and I know he’s hurting too.
Hurt that someone got past him in his own place, when he thinks he should know better.
I frown, gripping his shirt and pull.
Drake doesn't budge. His eyebrows rise. “Got a problem, Cha Cha?”
I wrinkle my noise, lever my way up and press my mouth to his.
The sound he makes is feral, brutal and everything that I love about him and that scares me at the same time.Everything. I sink back into his embrace as he makes a blanket puff of us both on the floor.
And that’s how they find us: his security friends and my management team, a few hours later. My icepack has melted, but Drake’s arms never let me go.
And in that time he’s told me everything I need to know about him. Where he grew up, all the missions he was never supposed to talk about. His seafood allergy, the pets he had as a child. What toppings he hates on a pizza. His front door is broken down by a guy he calls Hendrick, who actually kicks it off its hinges. He has a woman in tow, a tiny birdlike musician who talks to me for the next hour while the mountain house is invaded by more people than I’ve seen in weeks.
Before they arrive, my bodyguard even whispers his last name to me, giving me the secret I’ve craved for so long.
