Earl and the Goons lay unmoving, their shirts covered in red splotches. Legs suddenly weak, Emma collapsed to her knees.
Fire bit into her side.Ow, fuck. What was that? Ears feeling stuffy, head spinning, she looked down at her black dress. Why was it all wet?
“Emma!” Jason dropped to his knees beside her, gently guiding her to the ground as his team cleared the room of threats. The entire right side of her dress was sticky with blood, and her face had gone deathly pale. “Hang on, baby.”
“Did he hit you?” she asked, her blue eyes full of concern for him as he settled her gently on the floor. “I was so scared. First you show up here, and then Earl almost—”
“I’m fine. He hityou, not me.” She’d taken a fucking bullet for him and he was both in awe that she would do that, and mad as hell. He’d watched in horror as she put herself in the line of fire, saving him, but knocking his own shot at Saber—Earl?—wide. Thank God Todd and the guys had shown up in time to take out that fucker and his guards as they went for their backup weapons. He’d never been so scared in his life. This day just kept upping the ante. “What were you thinking?”
“That I love you,” she said, her faint voice barely audible to his still ringing ears.
Well, damn. He’d wanted nothing more than to hear those words from her pretty lips again—especially now that he could believe them—but not like this. He’d wanted it to be a magical moment where he could lay her down on a bed and show her exactly how he felt in return, not one where he had to stanch the flow of blood coming from her side. “I love you too, butJesus Christ, Emma, you scared the hell out of me. Please don’t do that again.”
That she cared enough to put herself in harm’s way for him, to put his needs and safety before her own, made his throat tight. No woman had ever done that before, even when the stakes were much lower.
Why had he ever doubted her?
“You would’ve done it for me.” She lifted her hand a few inches, and he noticed blood leaking down her triceps as she lowered it again. “Ow, ow, ow.” Her breath hissed in through her teeth.
Shit. The arm wound wasn’t gushing, but he pressed on the artery above it anyway.“Medical!”he called to his team as he also maintained pressure on her ribs. “You’re right, I would have.” He’d do anything for her.
The clinical side of him assessed her injuries and visible vitals like a professional, but on the inside, the man in love was freaking the fuck out. “I’m so sorry about this morning,” he said. “Can you ever forgive me for being such an asshole?”
“You came for me,” she said, her voice tight.
“I want to always be there when you need me.” Maybe he could distract her from the pain if he kept talking. “This doesn’t change what I did, or in any way excuse it, but I need you to know that I realized what a mistake I’d made after I calmed down and really thought about who you are. You’re good to your core, and you deserve better than an insecure man with trust issues. I’m going to get some help with that, learn to deal with my shit, because I don’t want to hurt you ever again. I love you, Em. And if you take me back, I swear I’ll make sure you never have reason to think otherwise.”
“I love all of you,” she said, her breath shallow. “Even the ugly, messy parts.”
Tears stung the backs of his eyes and his face turned hot.
“I—” She inhaled sharply.
Where the fuck were the paramedics? “You’re doing great, sweetheart. I know it hurts, but you’re going to be fine, okay? You’ll get patched up, and be up and around in no time, and you won’t be able to get rid of me.”
She nodded, keeping her eyes locked on his face. “Promise?”
Her injuries didn’t appear life-threatening, but he well knew there were so many things that could go wrong. The downside of his training, his experiences in Afghanistan. But she was young and healthy, and he would be there every step of the way ensuring she got the best care. They’d miraculously found each other again, and they were going to make it work this time. Nothing was going to drive them apart.Nothing.
Carefully, he bent over and kissed her forehead. “I promise.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
ARCHER LONAGAN—ARCH for short, butneverfucking Archie—sat at the rough-hewn wooden reading table and watched the other men of Alastor Group pour themselves drinks from the bar. His study’s walnut paneling, built-in bookshelves, and thick drapes created a cool oasis from the high-desert sun, but the retreat failed to soothe as he waited for everyone to sit.
Outside of these walls, there was nothing connecting these once-powerful men to each other. Other than him, every one of them had flown to a different part of the country over the last few days, each creating a separate cover story for this two-day meeting on Arch’s Idaho ranch.
At thirty-five, he was the youngest and most tech-savvy of the group, and despite his age, considered himself the de facto leader.Hewas the one who’d noticed that a small group of reporters were getting the bulk of the stories.Hewas the one who’d determined that a secret group worked in the background to ruin the lives of powerful men.Hewas the one who’d talked these men into pooling their recently reduced resources to identify and eradicate the cabal of underdogs they called The Invisibles.
Without him, every man now enjoying a plush leather chair at his table would still be ruined shells of themselves with no sense of purpose. Like him, each one had been villainized and punished for doing the very things they’d been lauded for in the preceding decades. So, for now, they each dutifully played the role of the shamed, cowed, near-bankrupt former-mogul-in-hiding.
For now.
Archer’s version was to eschew the press and keep a low profile, rarely leaving this ranch on ten acres northwest of Boise. His current fortune was nothing like what he’d once enjoyed, but like so many of his physical assets, the house had been safe from the courts because it was held in a living trust, with him as trustee.
His children stood to inherit someday, but his family had moved out shortly after his conviction. Fine by him. They needed to distance themselves from him to save their own reputations. He didn’t give a shit. He’d allowed his wife to spoil the whiny brats too much anyway. If there was one good thing to come out of this debacle it was that everyone had stopped asking him for handouts.
The story was much the same for every other man in the room.
