Page 38 of The Monster’s Weakness

“What’s wrong?” he asked, shifting to his side. She was still gloriously naked, and he was addicted to every one of her lush curves.

“My arm’s numb.”

“What do you mean?” He crawled over to her, rubbing the arm she was holding. “What does it feel like?”

“My hand too. And my leg.”

Fuck.

“Come here.” He helped her off the bed, getting her to stand in front of him. “What’s numb?”

She narrowed her eyes, focusing for a minute. “My entire right side.”

“Can you walk?”

“I’m fine, Caleb. It’s happened before. When I’m stressed.”

He felt tears prick his eyes but he pushed them away. No way would he be responsible for Gemma having a relapse. She wouldn’t be stressed if it wasn’t for all this bullshit. He had to end this, to make a life where they had peace.

“We need to go to the hospital.”

To this day he had a phobia of hospitals. He watched his mom die in one, and he still remembered the sterile smell, the heart monitor beeping, and the pale blue curtains around the beds. After her death, he’d been through hell over and over again until he finally left the system and survived on his own. Once she died there was no place to call home.

But he was taking Gemma to get the care she needed.

“I don’t need the hospital. I just need to relax a bit.”

“Do you want more lesions?” he snapped. “You need steroids!”

He’d educated himself about her disease long before they met face to face.

She released a stuttered breath, then the tears started flowing. “Don’t say that!”

He turned and ran both hands through his hair. “Fuck, I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean it. I just want to take care of you.”

“It could be nothing. You don’t understand how they treat people like me at the hospital. I’ll sit in the waiting room while my own body destroys itself. They’ll say I’m low priority because I’m only dizzy or numb or whatever else. It’s better to wait and see if it’s a passing flare.”

He calmed himself, hating that he had to leave. “I have to deal with this.”

“I know. And I’ll be fine. I’ll be waiting here for you,” Gemma said.

Reluctantly, he dressed and prepared his holsters and gun bag. He was ready to go, and he knew where he was heading first.

He drove across the darkened city to the mansion in the suburbs. Pembroke’s wife had taken the hit out on his woman, and that was a mistake. She’d put him in a position to kill an innocent man, and that didn’t sit well with him. He shouldn’t care, but for some reason he did.

Caleb was invisible in the night. A ghost. He’d been in the contract business a long time, and they paid him the big bills for a reason.

“How’d you get in here?” she said after a quick scream.

He stood right beside her as she drank a glass of wine in a lounge chair in her living room. In fact, he’d been there for a while, watching her, listening to her breathe.

“Who are you?”

She set her red wine down on the coffee table, careful to place it perfectly on a fabric coaster. Caleb knocked it over onto the white area rug.

“Are you going to pay for the clean—” She shut her mouth when he pressed a 9mm to her temple.

“End the contract out on Gemma Miller.”