The first night I couldn’t remember at all, except for the terror I’d felt enshrouding me, the suffocating moments when I’d continued to play the day’s events over in my mind like a broken record.
Slowly, by the end of the next day, the fog had lifted and I’d been grateful to have someone to lean on. The Prince family were amazing people, stronger than I was. I didn’t know how they handled such tragedies, but they seemed to have a pronounced resolve.
Meanwhile, I’d been a blubbering fool.
I studied the suncatcher in the window and at least it brought me a smile with the way it reflected the sunlight. The little gift was supposed to make me feel as if I was back home. I don’t know if any of the Prince brothers had been to Stowe, but New Orleans was nothing like Vermont.
The sights. The sounds. The music. All incredible.
I’d seen Bourbon Street from afar, but the stunning architecture and lively crowds had silently beckoned me to come spend several days exploring the shops and bakeries.
Maybe later.
When I could breathe again.
When I wasn’t terrified or angry, sad or ready to take out my aggression on a coffeepot that just. Didn’t. Want. To. Work. Huffing, I blew hair out of my eyes, fingering the stunning figurine. The gift was perfect. I’d need to thank Alexander’s wife Catherine once again when my manners finally returned.
They’d somehow managed to get drop kicked to hell after killing a man. Now, I would easily do so again without question or hesitation. However, no matter what anyone would ever say to me, killing someone did change a person.
I still wasn’t used to the pull the Prince family had over just about everyone I’d come into contact with from medical personal to law enforcement, but I’d been questioned about the various incidents for about twenty minutes and allowed to leave with Alexander and his brother Jaxon. They’d acted like my big brothers, protecting me from everything from the press to nosy neighbors.
Right now, I wasn’t entirely certain whether I craved a stiff cup of chicory coffee, all the rage so I heard in New Orleans, or a tall glass of wine. I was leaning toward the wine. I’d need courage to finally read Danny’s letter.
Out of everything in the Blazer, I’d left with the necklace he’d given me and the letter. Everything else had burned in the fire. Things could be replaced.
But my brother couldn’t.
At least I had to honor him by reading what he’d fought so desperately to tell me. I’d clutched the envelope so many times it was thoroughly creased, but that wouldn’t change the contents. The task had to be completed.
There was a sudden, powerful presence behind me, the rich, masculine scent creating tingles. I took a deep breath, allowing his reflection to torment me instead of the colorful butterfly in the suncatcher.
“You’re not supposed to be out of bed.”
“No, you’re supposed to be in my bed. Why is that?”
I turned slowly to face Montgomery, able to breathe another sigh of relief. He’d been damn lucky the shot had gone clean through, the blood from his mouth the result of his lung being nicked, but the damage had been minimal. He was still in recovery, but after two days at the hospital, he’d checked himself out against his doctor’s orders.
At least he hadn’t gone on a hunt like the others in his family, who’d already rounded up several Russians. I hadn’t asked about their fate, but I’d obviously watchedThe Hunger Gamesone too many times as I’d wanted them eliminated from the playing field.
I had a feeling I’d gotten my wish.
“Because you’re still recovering. You’re not Superman,” I answered.
“That’s not what you told me while standing over my hospital bed.” He closed the distance, his nostrils flaring as he peereddown at me. I’d seen the look several times before, the hunger that knew no bounds.
Which was exactly the same reaction I felt. Well, after I’d learned he would survive of course. Today, he looked scrumptious.
Heat flushed my cheeks and I laughed softly from embarrassment. “Oh, you heard that.”
“I heard everything, my beautiful flower. Every word.”
“Great.” The single word was said with full sarcasm.
He cupped my chin in his usual possessive way, which made me feel all flustery inside. He had a way of doing that with a single look and nothing more.
“Yes, a superhero. I think I like that term. I might require my Capo to call me that.”
“And my guess is that Gio will slit your throat one night when you’re sleeping if you do.”
