“I was going to say, I’m okay.”
“Same shit, buddy.” Patch adjusted an IV line, said something to a guy sitting behind them. “Remy’s meeting us at the hospital. He’ll have his guys help with security in case there’re any stragglers. Stand watch while you drag your ass back from the dead. And you’d better drag it back.”
He nodded, drifted again, jerking back as bright lights slid past overhead, voices calling over crappy speakers as the gurney rocked down the hallway. Riven jogged beside him, blood still caked down her side, splashes of purple blooming on her skin.
She glanced down, pressed her lips together. “They’re taking you up to surgery. Something about needing a chest tube. Removing some rib fragments. But I’ll be here when they’re done, so don’t even think about not making it back.”
He drew her down to him with a tilt of his head as the staff stopped just outside a set of glass doors. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” She stood still as the gurney shuffled ahead, everything bleeding into black again, her voice carrying as the door started closing. “I mean it, jackass. Don’t die.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
McGuire surfaced to the glare of fluorescent lights, the sharp punch of antiseptic cleaner burning a line down his throat. Monitors beeped in the background and what sounded like a cart bumping its way along the corridor. White-hot pain lanced his side, each breath lacing fire through his lungs.
A hand pressed over his, the familiar weight drawing his gaze. He turned his head, froze. She sat beside the bed, hair shoved up into a messy bun, clothes wrinkled and creased. Bandages pushed at her shirt, a line of sterie strips down the side of her face.
He frowned, tried to nod at the injuries but failed. “You’re hurt.”
She laughed, the easy sound lifting some of the weight from his chest. “Says the guy who courted death. And I’m fine. Aces, compared to you.”
He wet his lips, accepted the sip of water she offered, then sighed. “Langley? Keane? Is it even safe?—”
She shushed him with a soft finger over his mouth. “We’ll talk about that once you’re stronger. All you need to do is rest. Patch has everything under control. And before you decide to roll your naked ass out of the bed because you think I’munderselling it, as far as anyone’s concerned, you’re a federal agent who was deep undercover and got caught in a cartel grudge match. They’ve got you isolated with roving patrols. No one’s getting in.”
He eased back on the mattress. “Who’s got your back?”
“Your team. So, sleep. We’ll talk later.”
Her words followed him into the darkness, lingering in the back of his mind until he finally came out of the shadows, did more than stare at her face for five minutes before passing out. It took a while to shed the groggy feeling in his head, but by the third night, the room had stopped shifting, the lights no longer starting a chain reaction.
Riven leaned against the far wall, eyes wary, gaze making the rounds — door, hallway, window, him, repeat. A couple of Herrera’s men had been tipped off, had tried to muscle their way in. They’d gotten as far as the hallway before Stone and Cross had taken them out. But she’d been jumpy ever since.
Not for her own safety.
For his.
He sighed. He didn’t care about Herrera or if the man’s entire cartel came knocking. McGuire would have her back. Permanently if he had any say in it.
And damn it, he wanted a say. Wanted to tell her he couldn’t imagine his life without her in it. That he’d been falling in love with her since she’d told him to haul ass that night in Colombia.
That she was the future he’d never thought he’d have.
A huff, then she stepped up to the bed, shook her head. “Someone’s deep in thought.”
He frowned. “Was I?”
“That, or I need to get the doctor in here. I called your name.” She leaned in. “Twice.”
“I was just thinking.”
“That you’re a sitting duck in here despite all the security? Yeah, me too. I should have had Patch break you out — absconded with you back to that cabin even Herrera’s men couldn’t find.”
“Riven…” He grabbed her hand, tugged her close. “I’m fine, and everything else can be sorted out. Sure, there might be the odd asshole who thinks they can get to you through me, but they’ll be dead before they get off a shot, so… Stop worrying. We’ll be out of here by tomorrow. Promise.”
She inched closer, mouth hovering an inch from his. “You obviously haven’t seen your chest. You look like someone took a sledgehammer to you. Not to mention, you also promised not to die on me, and we both know how that worked out.”
“Still breathing.”
