“Come back here.”
When she doesn’t move, I kick off the too-tight, scuffed shoes those assholes forced me to wear and shift so I can sit next to her, my back against the headboard. “Come. Here. I need you a hell of a lot more than I need to breathe.”
“Doc…” Her hoarse laugh eases a fraction of my worry. As does the way she relaxes against me. But too soon, her fingers start moving restlessly along the hem of my shirt. “What happens now? Sapier…?”
“Austin is taking care of him.” I skim my lips over her hair. “You were pretty out of it on the ride here. The prison administrator already confessed to his part. Sapier paid him twenty thousand dollars to ‘hire’ nine new guards for the night—and give the regulars time off.”
“But…they’ll be looking for me. I…escaped. The police…the Army…my confession… They fingerprinted me.Bookedme. We can’t stay here! They’ll take me back to prison. Or worse…”
Fuck. She’s close to hyperventilating. I cup the back of her neck and seal my mouth to hers. We’re both bloody, in pain, and exhausted, but she parts her lips at the first tease of my tongue.
Home. The word that scared her away all those months ago. It’s still the only one I have for how she tastes. How I feel when I’m with her. When I met her, I was barely existing. Moving through life without a purpose. Doing the bare minimum just to get through the day.
But now…I’malive. Because of her.
Natasha’s fingers tangle in my hair. But in my desperate need to get closer, our noses bump. Her pained whimper shatters the moment.
I draw back, cursing myself for putting those tears back in her eyes. She doesn’t need me to be her lover right now. She needs me to be her damn doctor.
I frame her face with my hands. “Listen to me, baby. Hidden Agenda is taking care of everything. Your record, your confession, all of it. And what they can’t fix, Austin and his people will. But right now, I need to examine you. I’m worried you need to go to the hospital.”
“No. Don’t leave me. Please.” She grabs my wrist, her fingers digging into the red welts from the plastic cuffs.
“I’m not going anywhere. I promise. If you need a hospital, they’ll just have to accept that I’m staying by your side the entire time. Now lie back so I can take a look at your nose.”
The first raysof sunlight stream through a small crack in the drapes. Natasha curls against me, one hand wrapped in mine, the other splayed over my hip.
Bright, white tape stretches across her nose, in stark contrast to the dark bruises around her eyes.
Resetting the broken cartilage almost destroyed me. Even with the topical anesthetic, she cried out more than once. The wounds to her neck weren’t deep—thank God. And though she has a concussion from that asshole slamming her head into one of the industrial dryers, there was no evidence of a brain bleed or a skull fracture. We showered together, I helped her into one of my t-shirts, then stayed awake for more than two hours. Holding an ice pack to her forehead. Checking her pulse and blood pressure. Just watching her breathe.
We were lucky. So damn lucky. The stab wound to my arm missed my brachial artery. The stun gun left deep, red burns all along my right side, but those will heal in time.
Soft murmurs come from the main room. A door opens and shuts. Gladys cackles.
Natasha startles awake, then groans in the dim light.
“What hurts?” I ask, brushing a lock of hair away from her face. At the look in her eyes, I grimace. “That was probably a stupid question. Everything?”
“Everything.” She snuggles closer to me, tangling our legs under the duvet. “I don’t even know what day it is.”
I regret the laugh immediately. I need coffee and a handful of ibuprofen. But I manage to get my breathing under control before Natasha starts to worry. “Saturday. I think.”
“It’ll be busy this weekend. On Blakely.” Her tone turns wistful. “I’ll miss it there.”
“You don’t want to go back?” We never had the chance to talk about the future. Hell, she still hasn’t told me she loves me, though I don’t need her to say it to know it’s true.
“I lied to everyone. Gladys said there’s nothing to forgive, but Clancy… How can he ever trust me again?” She fiddles with the hem of the soft black t-shirt. “And there’s…” Her words fadeaway. She squeezes her eyes shut. Even nudging her chin doesn’t get her to look at me.
“There’s what?”
“You,” she whispers. A tear escapes under her lashes. “Shit. This shouldn’t be so hard.”
“Natasha.” I slide lower, cupping her breast through the cotton and skating my thumb over her nipple. She shudders at the touch. “They’re only words. You don’t have to say them. They won’t change how I feel.”
“I love you.” A sob catches in her throat. She opens her eyes. I catch a single tear with my knuckle and whisk it away. “I love you and I don’t want to live somewhere you’re…not. But you deserve?—”
“Fuck what I deserve,” I say with a brief touch of my lips to hers. “I know what Iwant,Natasha. I want you. I want a life with you. Whether that life is on Blakely, in Seattle, or somewhere new. As long as we’re together.”
