He greets Taylor and Emily’s squeal as she bursts through the door.
“Daddy!” she shouts as she throws herself bodily onto the bed next to me.
“Emily,” Taylor chides. “Be careful, your daddy’s hurt.”
“Sorry, Daddy,” Emily says, her sweet face upturned.
I brush her hair back from her flushed face. “That’s okay, angel. I’m fine. I’m happy to see you.”
“I’m glad you’re okay,” Emily says solemnly.
“Thank God you got back okay,” Taylor adds. “After you left we were so scared. I shouldn’t have convinced you to go.”
I wave her concerns away. “I would have had to go anyway.”
Taylor’s face turns serious. “I heard.”
Emily snuggles up next to my side and wraps her arms around me. I barely notice the twinge from my ribs. Her fruity shampoo calms me and I press my face closer to her head to inhale it.
“We can talk about it later,” she says as she looks around the room. She takes in the dozens of vases of flowers on every available surface. “I see you’ve got admirers. It was a madhouse downstairs. There were ten or twelve reporters trying to get in.”
“You guys okay to get home?” I ask.
She nods. “We’ll be fine. We wanted to come and visit for a while.”
“What about the girl, Daddy? Did you save her?”
I relax for the first time since I heard her voicemail. “I did, sweetheart. But I think she saved me, too.”
Chloe
I should be happy.
Really, I am.
“You’re good to go, Ms. McKinney,” a nurse says. She pauses in the doorway. “We’re so happy that you’re okay.”
“Thank you,” I tell her, but my voice sounds wooden to my ears. “Me, too.”
The door closes behind her and I turn back to my study of the square of grass outside my window. It’s lightening up outside, and I want to watch the sun come up. Maybe knowing that life will go on, that my life isn’t over, will help eradicate the dull, cotton that’s filled my chest.
It’s over. It’s over and you’re fine.
No matter how many times I repeat those words, my brain doesn’t quite seem willing to accept them. I tried going to sleep, but every time I laid my head down and closed my eyes, I could see Jones’ face in my mind and I’d shoot up, expecting to find him grinning down at me. Eventually, I gave up trying to sleep and convinced a nurse to let me have a cup of coffee instead.
It’s long since cooled on the bedside table because I found I couldn’t stomach much of anything.
“Hey,” comes a soft voice from the doorway.
I tear my gaze away from the window and find Sienna standing in the doorway. Her face is red, mottled, but dammit she looks beautiful even with splotchy skin and eyes bloodshot from crying.
She sniffles and wipes her nose with a tissue. “I’m so sorry,” she says brokenly.
I sit on the foot of my bed and gesture for her to come inside. “I didn’t know you were coming back! And you have nothing to be sorry about,” I tell her. “This wasn’t your fault.”
“How can you say that?” she sobs. “I’m the one that told you to take the job. I practically forced you! If it weren’t for me, you would have been on vacation. Probably met some sexy beach bum. Instead, you nearly got k-killed.”
“There’s no way you could have known it was going to happen.” I pull her down until she’s sitting beside me. “Don’t you dare blame yourself.”
“How can I not?” she asks.
“Hey,” I say, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “I was the one nearly killed. What I say, goes.” I intended it to be a joke to lighten the mood, but it causes her to burst into fresh tears.
“I’m s-sorry.” She takes a shuddering breath. “I told myself I wouldn’t cry, but when I saw your name on the news, I thought you were gonna die. I made them turn us around.”
I wince. “I totally forgot. Did you find a place to stay?”
She shakes her head. “No, but that’s not important. What’s important is that you’re okay. You’re here.”
“I’m okay.” I rub her back.
Sienna laughs and gets to her feet. “Look at me. I’m in worse shape than you are. You don’t look the least bit traumatized.” Her eyes narrow. “Why don’t you look traumatized?”
I lift a shoulder.
Sienna stops dabbing at her eyes and she squints at me. “There’s something you’re not telling me,” she declares imperiously. “What is it? What happened? You’re not hurt are you? You look fine.” She studies me for a few more seconds, then her mouth drops open into a little O of surprise. “No, you can’t—did you meet someone? You look positively miserable.”
Turning my back on her I cross back to the window to find the sun is rising over the buildings. “No, of course not.”
There are few seconds of silence and then she makes a sound in the back of her throat. “No, I don’t believe you. This is exactly how you looked when that asshole broke up with you. I don’t—how the hell did you meet someone when you were a hostage? This isn’t some sort of Stockholm situation, is it?”
That startles a laugh out of me. “No, it’s not.”
“Then who…” Her head jerks backward and she sucks in a breath. “That man,” she says, “the one who saved you.”
“Well, I like to think I helped.”
“You’ve got the hots for your rescuer?” The thought seems even more ridiculous when she says it out loud. “The one they’ve been showing on the news?” She pauses thoughtfully. “He is pretty hot.”
I glance over at her wondering if she’s seen him. The question must show plainly on my face because she says, “They showed his picture during the news report. Yours, too, actually. You’re all they’ve been able to talk about since it started.”
“Did they—” My throat closes around the words so I clear it and force myself to continue. “Did they say if he was okay?” I hope the words don’t sound as desperate and hopeful as I think they do.
“Oh, honey,” Sienna says, coming up beside me to wrap an arm around my waist and watch the sunrise with me. “He’s fine. The news report said he was wounded—they didn’t specify how—but they said he’ll be okay. I think he’s here, too, because of the mob outside and the heavy police guard.”
“Good—that’s good. I’m glad.”
“I don’t mean to overstep my bounds because I’m sure you’re overwhelmed as it is, but is he why you look so upset? Did he…do something?”
“No, no, of course not.” I put a reassuring hand on her arm. “He was, is, great. I promise.”
“Then what’s the problem?” she asks.
“I just—this will sound stupid,” I warn.
She laughs. “No judgment. I’m marrying a man who I’ve known less than a year who swept me off of my feet. If anyone will understand, it’s me.”
A knot loosens inside of me. I should have known I could confide in her. “Okay, well. I guess I want to see him again. Make sure he’s okay for myself. When I saw him last they were loading his unconscious body into an ambulance after they rescued us and that’s the image I have in my head of him, laying on the gurney looking like he died. He came to help me. I want to see him to make sure he’s okay for my peace of mind.”
She runs her fingers through my hair and for the first time since they rescued us from the water, I feel a sense of calm. “That makes total sense. He saved your life. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you went over to visit him.”
“Yeah…”
“But,” she prompts.
“But maybe there might be some feelings in there somewhere.”
Sienna squeals, then calms herself down. “I’m sorry. I—well I know how upset you’ve been since Thomas broke things off.”
“Yeah, but, ugh, this is stupid. Tell me it’s stupid. I don’t want to make a fool out of myself if it’s just, like a situation crush or something.”
“Do
es it feel like a crush?” she asks.
“Not sure I trust my judgment right now.”
“Maybe you should go see him and see how you feel.”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe. Won’t that be weird? It would be horrible if he was all business-like. I’d feel stupid.”
“You’d be even more stupid if you do like this guy and you don’t go see him. Maybe he feels the same way.”
“He’s got enough on his plate without me bothering him.”
“If you say so, but I still think you should go see him.”
A nurse knocks on the door with a tray for breakfast and I’m thankful as Sienna changes the subject.
I endured the horrors of last night, but the thought of putting myself out there and then being rejected like I was with Thomas is almost too much to bear.
Gabriel
The room is quiet, too quiet.
It leaves me too much time to think. And my thoughts aren’t happy ones.
I couldn’t concentrate enough to watch any T.V. and none of the shows seemed interesting anyway. I wanted to ask Taylor to let Emily stay, but they were both exhausted and Emily needed to be somewhere familiar. There’s no use upsetting her more than she already is.
It’s been twenty-four hours since our rescue and I’ve thought of her at least a million times during every one. The doctors restricted me to the hospital bed for 48 hours of observation due to my injuries and the officers guarding my door won’t let anyone but vetted personnel and my family in.
In short, I’m slowly going crazy.
It’d be a different story if I had something to occupy my time other than quiet contemplation. I’d kill for a devastating hurricane or a capsized boat. Then I remember that I’m still recovering from the gunshots and my misery starts all over again. The only sleep I’ve gotten is medically induced and even then my nightmares wake me every couple hours.
This time, I didn’t let the nurses give me a sedative. If I’m not gonna sleep, I’d rather do it without the grogginess that accompanies the medicine.
A knock comes at the door and I open my mouth to snarl at them when I recognize the dark, wavy hair. Of course, the last time I saw her she was in a torn, soaked dress the same dark blue of her eyes. She looks as beautiful as I remembered, even in a shapeless hospital gown.
“Hey,” she says.
I sit up in the bed and hope I don’t sound like an eager fuckin’ teenager. “Hey.”
She walks hesitantly to my bedside with her lip clamped between her teeth. My heart hammers in my chest, the first sign of life I’ve had since the boat exploded, as she sits down next to me. The bed shifts with her weight and I have to knot the bed sheets on the other side to keep from pulling her close.
“How are you?” she asks, pausing the gnawing on her lip enough to say the words and then her teeth take hold again.
“I’m—” I stop to wet my own lips to keep from tasting hers. The few kisses we’d shared didn’t necessarily mean anything to her. They hadn’t to me at the time, or so I thought. Now, I’m not so sure. Do I want them to? She damn sure deserves better than me. “I’m good. Doctor says I should make a full recovery.”
“That’s good news,” she says.
“How about you? Gonna make it?”
“Looks like it,” she says, shifting slightly on the bed so that our legs brush. She takes no outward notice of it, but my body goes electric. “How’s the hospital treating you? Still hate them?”
“I don’t know,” I say, my eyes on her lips. “It’s not so bad right now.”
Her cheeks turn pink and her eyes drop to the thin comforter. “There’s the Gabe I know,” she says.
“Been missin’ him, huh?” I tease.
Then she looks back up at me, and the smile fades from my lips and it becomes difficult to breathe.
“What if I was?” she asks, her voice soft.
I swallow, then say, “Then why didn’t you come here sooner?”
She laughs. “I guess I didn’t want to seem like a crazy person. I didn’t want you to tell me to get lost.”
I scoot over on the bed to make room for her, noting the dark shadows under her eyes. “I’d never tell you to get lost,” I say and then tug on her arm. “Lie down with me.”
She resists for a second and then caves. “You been able to sleep?” she asks as she reclines next to me. She takes care not to bump my wounds and then finally lays her head on my shoulder.
The bed isn’t huge and the bars are pressing into my back, but having her next to me is the most comfortable I’ve been in a long time.
“No,” I say when I remember she asked me a question. “Not well and I hate medicine. If another person comes at me with a syringe of sedatives, I might have to tackle them to the ground to defend myself.”
She laughs. “So you’ve been terrorizing the nursing staff.”
The tension in my shoulders starts to dissolve and I relax into the bed. “I’d never do that,” I say with a grin.
Chloe turns on her side and rests her head on my shoulder. “Sure you wouldn’t.”
I fake-scoff. “I don’t think you’ve known me long enough to make those kinds of judgments, thanks.”
She blinks up at me. “You’re right.”
My smile fades. “I didn’t mean—”
“No,” she interrupts with a giggle. “I don’t mean that. I mean I don’t know you. I mean we survived this horrible thing and I feel closer to you than I’ve ever felt with anyone.” She pauses, her eyes widening with surprise and she glances away nervously. “I mean, not that we’re close or anything, um, I mean that—”
I cover her mouth with my hand and she stops speaking, her gaze coming back to mine. “You don’t have to explain,” I say, my voice low.
“I don’t?”
Her hair feels like silk in my hands and I murmur, “Mmhmm,” as I drape it over her dainty shoulders. She’s a delicately made woman for someone so fierce. Remembering her guarding me with a gun makes me smile.
“What?” she asks, smiling back at me.
“Just remembering you protecting me with a gun. For someone so little you’re pretty damn formidable.”
“I’m not little,” she says. “You’re just huge.”
Having her so close is doing ridiculous things to my body. I’d turned off all the lights to go to sleep so the lack of light is intensifying all of my other senses. I can smell the plain soap she must have used in the shower, which only serves to make my imagination run wild.
I gulp down air and try to refocus on the conversation. “What do you want to know?” I ask to get my brain to focus on something, anything, other than how she feels against me.
“Everything,” she says.
In the hazy light of morning, I wake to find myself wrapped around a beautiful woman, slightly confused as to how I got there. I have one arm cradled underneath her head and the other slung around her waist so she’s pressed against me in all the right places. And I mean all the right places. Her breath fans across the sensitive skin along my neck.
It takes a while for me to remember what happened and how she got into bed with me and then the previous night comes to me. We’d lain in the bed together for hours, just talking. It’s been a long time since I had a woman in bed for a reason other than getting naked with her.
As I shift to put a little room between us, despite every instinct telling me not to, she makes a sound of protest and moves closer. She throws one of her thighs over my hip and—hand to God—I don’t intend to kiss her again—at least not until we’d at least gone on an official date, but I do.
Her lips are unbelievably, exquisitely soft. A growl rumbles in my chest and her hand rises to press against it, hesitantly at first as she rouses. I watch as her eyes flutter open and catch mine. As they widen in surprise and then dilate with desire, my muscles steel with triumph.
I use the arm around her waist to my advantage, leveraging her weight until she’s pressed as close as she can be. We
both groan in unison at the sensitive contact, the simple touch reigniting the spark between us I’ve been trying so hard to ignore. The pain from my wounds is nonexistent. In its place is pure pleasure.
Her mouth opens and I cup her face with my hands, guiding her movements in tandem with mine. I touch, and taste, and go a little crazy with her kiss. Her fingers clutch at my shoulders as she does everything that she can to practically bind herself to me.
Desire flares white-hot between us and when I’m about to flip her to her back and show her how much I need her, she devastates me by breaking the kiss and sliding her lips along my jaw to my ear. She exhales an unsteady breath and nibbles at the sensitive skin there. My mind blanks and narrows to the simple, but effective point of contact.
How or why doesn’t matter. What matters is the breathless way she whispers my name when I knot her hair in my hand to plunder her mouth. What matters is the way her heart stutters in her chest when I trail my lips on a path down her neck to the pink-splotched skin revealed by the thin hospital blanket.
I bring my lips back to her ear as my hand ghosts along her neckline. “Do you want me to stop, baby?” The question burns me when I ask; the last thing I want to do is stop. But even worse than that would be making a move she isn’t ready for. I’ve got all the time in the world, I can wait. It’ll probably kill me, but I can try.
She answers by plunging her hands into my hair and pulling my mouth back to hers. I respond by covering her body with my own. I hesitate for a moment, wondering if I’m moving too fast, doing too much, but she simply cradles me between her thighs, pulling me closer to her warmth. There’s a twinge from my stitches, but I push that to the back of my mind.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been with a woman I cared about—probably too long if I’m being honest. After my horrific divorce, relationships weren’t high on my list of priorities. Maybe I was waiting for someone like Chloe. Someone soft and a little sweet, too idealistic for this shitty world, but at the same time, determined in her own right.
Anchor (First to Fight Book 1) Page 12