If I didn’t know what those two words mean to the two men, I’d lie through my sore and slightly loose front teeth. But when I joined Hidden Agenda, Ry sat me down, a grave expression on his scarred face.
“We don’t have many rules here, Raelynn. Always answer your phone. Show up for workouts. Don’t tell civilians what we do.”
“Okay, boss—”
“I’m not done,” he says. “There’s one more. You don’t make a promise you can’t—or don’t intend to—keep. If you say ‘I promise,’ you better make sure you mean it.”
“Raelynn? I need to hear you say it,” West prods.
“I love him.” Those three words break me. I don’t cry. I can’t. But somewhere deep inside, a canyon of grief waits to swallow me whole.
“We know.” Ryker drops a hand on my shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Trust us to get him back.”
I let my gaze ping between the two men. They gave me a chance. A life when all I wanted was to hide away from the world—or burn it all down.
Eyes locked on West, I take a deep breath. “I promise I won’t leave the van unless it’s the only way to save him. That’s all I can give you. Please. That has to be enough.”
He nods and unzips his med kit. “It’s enough. You ready? This is going to hurt.”
“Do it.”
West gently raises my leg so my foot rests on his thigh, then chuckles. “Reynolds deserves a raise.”
“I pay him well enough,” Ry mutters. “He’s not hurting for cash.”
Leaning forward, I scan the bright green tape criss-crossing the joint. Just under my kneecap, the doctor drew a small X in black pen.
West skims his fingers on either side of the mark. “This has to go under the patella. Ry, stabilize her leg. If she moves, I’ll do more harm than good.”
Ryker kneels next to me, one big hand around my calf, the other pressing down on my thigh. A thin, high-pitched whimper escapes my lips when the needle hits the nerve. It’s like ten thousand volts shooting all the way up my leg.
Graham rushes into the room, gaping at the sight of me: half naked, tears streaming down my cheeks, my foot in West’s lap, and Ryker holding me down. “What the hell?” he asks as Inara joins him.
“Y’all better not…breathe a word…of this…to anyone,” I hiss through the pain.
“Done.” West caps the needle and shoves it into a portable sharps container. “Wait five minutes before you put any weight on it.”
“With my ass hangin’ out? Get me a blanket or somethin’.”
Ry slides his hands under my arms and lifts me to my feet. I barely have time to grab my pants before I’m upright. “Warn a girl, next time, will ya’?”
“I think the words you’re looking for are ‘thank you.’”
Using the table for support, I turn so I can meet his gaze. “I ain’t one for trustin’ people. Can’t say it’ll ever come easy. But y’all are…family. Thank you.”
The throbbing in my knee that’s been my constant companion since the previous night fades away. “Whoa. That shit is magic.”
“You only get one,” West says with a grim smile. “But the cortisone the doc gave you should take over in a day or so.”
“Get in here!” Tank calls from the next room. “DeLuca’s calling!”
Ryker picks me up with one arm around my waist and deposits me directly in front of Angelo. “Remember, Rossi. You need proof of life before you go anywhere.”
Nash’s father nods. His hands shake. Ryker hands him the phone, a cable connecting it to West’s laptop so we can all see what Angelo sees, without the camera catching sight of us.
We spent hours this afternoon drilling instructions into the man. Don’t say a word about us. Work in the words Bandit, West, or cat. Anything to let Nash know he’s not alone.
“DeLuca. Where is my son?” Angelo snaps.
