He let the silence stretch and felt Kaydon’s warmth anchoring him, before forcing out the next question. “What’s the plan?”
“Adria’s contact can fake us new passports and IDs. We fly to Mexico, then South America, meet her guy, ‘X,’ lie low until this dies down.” Kaydon’s voice was steady, practical.
Bryson nodded into the pale evening light filtering through the patio doors. “I knew she’d come up with something.”
Kaydon’s finger traced the edge of Bryson’s chest wrap. “Looks like you’ll live.”
“Hard to kill,” Bryson managed, but the words tasted hollow.
Their usual banter falling flat between them.
“Hungry?” Kaydon asked, voice too light.
“Not really.” Bryson’s stomach fluttered, but it wasn’t hunger.
Kaydon turned his gaze to Bryson’s forearm, which held dark bruises from Regan’s grip. He reached out, fingertips gentle…and Bryson flinched so hard the couch shifted beneath them.
Regan’s face—sweat beading on his brow, flushed with arousal—flashed behind Bryson’s eyelids. His breath hitched and he jerked his arm back, curling it protectively into his side.
“You can talk to me about it,” Kaydon said softly, concern threading his tone—the same concern that usually made Bryson feel safe. But now? It sent heat crawling up his neck, his pulse skyrocketing.
He pushed away. “I…need some air.” His voice cracked.
He stumbled toward the glass doors, fingers fumbling with the lock before wrenching the panel open. A cold breeze crashed against his face, sharp and alive.
Bryson closed his eyes against the sting. The night air filling his lungs—deep, steady breaths.
“You know, I haven’t felt a breeze in months,” he whispered.
He glanced behind him, but Kaydon was gone.
Bryson’s chest tightened, but the air slipped in and out, reminding him how brutal it had been to breathe just hours ago.
What had Adria said? “He waslucky to be alive?”
Lucky—the word stuck in his mind.
He shut his eyes, and Regan’s sandalwood scent crept in like a scratchy blanket, suffocating him. Bryson leaned his forehead against the cool glass, trying to will the breeze into his veins, to carve out the panic. He inhaled deeply, counting each breath, forcing himself to believe he was safe. That somehow, he was still lucky.
When he moved back into the room, he saw Kaydon lying next to Adria. Seth was curled into a ball, his back pressing into her center. The three looked so comfortable with each other.
Bryson, not wanting to disturb them, moved into the bedroom next door—the makeshift hospital suite, the room where, just a few hours ago, a doctor had performed emergency surgery on him.
It still smelled of antiseptic and bleach, but Bryson opened the far window and crawled into the cold bed. He enjoyed the night sounds and the smell of fresh air. Bryson pulled the blanket up to his chin and stared at the ceiling. Not wanting to see Regan behind his eyelids, he just watched the lights of traffic dance around the room. Waiting until morning.
CHAPTER 15
NEW YORK
Elena sat in the passenger seat of the Outlander while Eric drove. Her two bodyguards were driving the car behind them.
Bryson, Kaydon, and Seth sat in the back seat withher. The three of them hadn’t been willing to be further than five feet away from Adria since they united. Elena struggled to understand it. She was torn between the fury she felt at Adria for putting them in harm’s way and the love they all clearly shared.
I love them.
Adria’s words bounced around in Elena’s head as Eric drove seamlessly down the tarmac. The man was sex on two legs, except he hadn’t looked in her direction once. Maybe they shouldn’t design robots to be so sexy.
Elena glanced in her side mirror.
