He’d told her he loved her. Twice before they’d even finished the mission. Then, every time she’d opened her eyes since. And she’d answered in kind because, despite the voices, the ghosts, she couldn’t imagine ever finding anyone who understood her the way Buck did. Who loved her, demons and all.
She smiled as he raised the top of her bed until she was level with him. “You know I hate hospitals.”
“As do I. But you know what I hate more?” He leaned in, got lover-close. “You dying. So, horizontal and healing tops everything else until I’m sure you’re not going to pop a blood clot or pass out and crack your head open.”
She laughed, because he was just too damn adorable when he got all paranoid. “Has anyone ever told you that you worry too much?”
“Yeah, you. Several times over the past two days. And don’t try batting your eyelids or giving me those sexy, puppy-dog eyes. I’m immune when your safety is on the line.”
She arched a brow, motioning him closer. “Are you sure about that?”
He huffed, dropped a ridiculously tender kiss on her mouth before resting his forehead on hers. “You scared years off my life. I just need to know you’re safe.”
“I’m always safe when I’m with you.”
“Not quite true, but I appreciate the blind faith.”
“Nothing blind about it. If you weren’t exceptional…” She coughed, trying to talk around the sudden lump in her throat. “Besides, I’m pretty sure we could con Chase or Rowan into checking up on me.”
“You’re worse than Dalton when he gets stubborn about something, you know that?”
“I heard that.”
Tierney glanced toward the door, smiling at Dalton standing in the threshold, a tray of coffee cups in his hand. The guy shook his head, ambled in, handing her a paper cup before offering one to Buck.
Buck thanked him, taking a cautious sip. “Nothing you didn’t already know, brother.”
Dalton sighed, looking over at her. “I assume you’re trying to break ranks, again?”
Tierney relaxed against the mattress. “It’s been two days. I’m not saying I’m healed, but enough to go home.”
“If by home you mean the loft or Buck’s RV, then I agree. But your cabin…” He scrunched up his face. “That’s still a tactical nightmare.”
“It’s isolated. And hardly anyone knows about it.”
“Which is great if you’ve got a squad backing you up. Otherwise, it’s a death trap.”
Tierney squeezed Buck’s hand. “I see what you mean.”
Dalton shook his head. “And to think I thought you were sweet.” He turned as Wade, Nick, Avery, and Bodie walked in. “Crew’s here. Guess that means there’s news.”
Buck gestured to Wade, his face still several shades of purple, one arm in a sling, but standing on his own. “You look like shit.”
Wade walked over to the bed. “Have you looked in the mirror, buddy? You’re not much better.” He focused on Tierney. “Buck told me what you did. Taking on Grieves like that. Thanks.”
She shrugged her good arm. “Kinda my fault in the first place, but you’re welcome.”
He frowned but ambled back over to the side, braced some of his weight against the wall.
Avery stepped forward, hair up in a neat pony, her badge clipped on her hip. “You look slightly better than when they brought you in.”
Tierney shifted on the bed, trying to get comfortable. “Not having a blade lodged in my shoulder is a plus. How’s Grieves?”
Her throat closed around his name. Despite everything, he still sent shivers down her spine, the echoed snick-clink of that lighter sounding around her.
“Alive. The doctors say he suffered extensive head trauma, but he’s expected to recover. They’ve put him in an induced coma for the next few days, but he was lucid for two minutes right before. He whispered enough to make several agencies panic. He hinted that he’d name the moles who fed him operations—plural—if he got immunity from black-site rendition and a sweet plea deal.”
“There’s more than one?”
