He looks over at me. “You’re not doing too bad, yourself.”
We climb into the helicopter, two medics and two guards getting in with us. Then we’re off.
I see Win wince, his hand coming to his side.
It’s got to hurt like hell. There is so much I want to ask him. But most of all, I want to know why he didn’t chase my father. Why he was crouched in front of me…
Instead, I close my eyes and lean my head back. “Stay with me,” he growls out, his hand coming to my chest.
I open my eyes, not wishing for him to worry. “I’m here. I’m fine. Truly.”
He shakes his head, his hand coming to my chest to rest over my heart. “You are too much, you know that?”
“Am I?”
“No. You’re exactly enough.”
That makes me smile as I cover his hand on my chest with my own. “And you are a dream I never dared to dream.”
“Poetry even when you’re injured.”
I smile because, this is us. I lean my head onto his shoulder, wishing I could curl into his body.
The airport comes into view, the helicopter touching down. In short order we’re shuffled out of the helicopter and into Win’s private plane. It’s already been converted into a medical treatment center, and I am strapped onto a couch as I’m sterilized, stitched, and bandaged. Win receives the same.
Then I’m pumped full of antibiotics, bottles and medical instructions handed out even as the plane begins to jet down the runway.
Everyone disappears except for the man that Win called Ted, heading to the back of the plane to buckle up for takeoff.
“That was efficient.”
“Military medical,” Win says by way of explanation. “I spent four years at military school and then did a stint in the air force after graduation.”
I should have known. His discipline is unmistakable.
I look at my shoulder, my T-shirt is ripped, my bandages impeccable. “They did a much better job than my father’s doctor.”
“That’s good,” Win grunts. “Maybe he’ll die of sepsis, then.”
I gasp in a breath. “What does that mean?”
“It means I shot your father when he shot you. Twice, I think. My marksmanship scores were excellent, by the way.”
“Where did you hit him?”
“Shoulder and thigh.” Win grimaces. “I would have preferred a cleaner shot.”
“You are ridiculous.” And then I start undoing my buckles, before I make a mad scramble toward him.
He does the same and, even though it must hurt like hell, he catches me, pulling me into his lap when I vault myself toward him. “And you are strong and beautiful, your resiliency steals the air from my lungs.”
My lips find his, as I ignore the twinge of my brand-new stitches. It’s a long press of my lips before I pull away. “There is so much we need to talk about. So many things I want to ask.”
He nods at the guard, who unbuckles as well and starts for the back of the plane.
Win captures my chin with his hand and then kisses my lips again. “Ask away.”
I sigh, my lids sliding closed. “Now that I’m in your lap, I might want to just curl up.”
