“But I felt it,” she said hoarsely. “The pain… then nothing. You were gone.”
“Not today,” he said, tenderly cupping her cheek. “Not until we’re both old and gray if I have any say over it.” His thumb brushed gently over the bruise on her cheek, and his voice went quiet. “Who did this to you?”
“Kedrov. But he’s dead, and I’m okay.” Suddenly, she remembered an important detail. “You need to know about Special Agent Morgan. He’s a double agent, Vince. Feeding Kedrov intel and taking his cut.”
“I know,” he said, bending to brush his lips lightly over the tender spot. “We’ll find him.”
“You might want to look at the bottom of the basement stairs. But don’t be surprised if he’s a little banged up.”
“You know this how?” he asked, brow quirked as he gazed down at her.
“I thought he shot you. So, I may have kicked him and pushed him down the stairs.”
Both brows rose at her vehemence.
“I’d do it again, no question,” she said with conviction.
“Remind me not to piss you off,” he teased.
“I like you, so you have nothing to worry about,” she assured him.
“Good to know.”
He chuckled, low and reserved, considering the circumstances, and led her out of the trees.
Paramedics were now on scene, the Rangers having secured the rest of Kedrov’s men.
She barely spared them a glance. She had her arms wrapped around Vince’s waist and never wanted to let go. Never wanted to feel such hollowness again.
The tension coiled inside her for weeks finally broke. Her legs gave out. Luckily, he caught her before she hit the ground.
“Hey—easy.” He lowered them both to the wet grass. But the adrenaline draining from her system left her shaking uncontrollably.
One of the medics crouched beside them. “Mind if I take a look at you, ma’am?”
Erica nodded absently as he examined the bruising on her face.
He flashed a penlight in her eyes. “How did you get the bruise and swelling? Did you fall?”
“Russian bastard hit her,” Vince growled.
The light clicked off. “You’ll need to go to the hospital for X-rays.”
“I’ll take her,” he said.
The medic gave him a skeptical look. “You’re bleeding through that bandage, Ranger.”
He glanced down at the crimson-stained gauze.
“That’s more than a scratch. You’re going too,” she insisted before he could refuse.
His brows rose. Giving orders was more his speed than hers. Then his mouth twitched, and he relented. “I’ll ride with her and get it checked while I’m there.”
He was clearly indulging her, but she’d take it.
“Wait here,” the medic said. “Ambulances are en route.” Then he moved on to the next patient.
Across the yard, Lauren sat in the back of an open ambulance, an ice pack pressed to the side of her face.
