The Collector
Page 53
She paused at the top of the stairs, looked down.
They’d cleaned up. The table Jai had landed on was no longer scattered in pieces on the floor. There’d been shattered pottery, glass. And blood. Hers, his, Jai’s. Scrubbed away now, for the most part.
“She had a gun, there was a gun.”
“They have it. You told them.”
“The telling part’s foggy. Did Waterstone hold my hand? I sort of remember him holding my hand.”
“Yeah, he did.”
“But they got the gun. They took it away?”
“Yes. It was empty. She’d run out of bullets.”
Hearing the strain in his voice, she took his hand as they walked down.
“Vasin’s security people underestimated her. She killed two of them, got one of their guns, got a car.”
“She was hurt when she got here. That was lucky for me. I didn’t bother with the internal locks. That was stupid of me.”
“We were careless. I can’t remember if I set the alarm when I left. She got through the system, either way. She got to you, and I wasn’t here.”
“We’re not going to do that.” She turned, took his face again. “We’re not going to do that to ourselves or each other.”
He lowered his forehead to hers. “Pepper spray and a Leatherman.”
“I couldn’t figure out how to incorporate duct tape. I blinded her ass—well, her eyes. She should never have come here, never have tried this. She could’ve gotten away.”
“Pride, I guess. It cost her. Fine and Waterstone came back while you were sleeping. She’s not going to see daylight except through bars for the rest of her life—and she’s rolling like an avalanche on Vasin. They’ve already picked him up.”
“So it’s really over.” She let out a breath, realized the tears wanted to flood again.
Not yet, she told herself.
“That thing you asked me to think about, before? I have.” She drew away, walked over to examine the lamp with the broken plug. Yes, she could fix that. “You saved my life tonight.”
“If that idea persuades you to marry me . . . I’ll take it.”
She shook her head. “We fell down the steps. It’s all so blurry. She was choking me, and I didn’t have much left. My life didn’t pass in front of my eyes—not the past stuff, like you hear about. I thought about you, and the image you have of us. I thought I’ll never have that now, that life inside the crystal ball, and all that could go with it. I wanted to give up—but she said she was going to kill you when you came back. And I found more. Not just the trusty Leatherman I’d hung on to. But more. Because I love you. Wow, give me a minute.”
She held her hand up to keep him back until she got it all out. “I couldn’t stand the idea of the world without you, that she could take you away, take the future away from us. So I found more—not enough, but more. Just before you came crashing in, and I thought it was over, all I could think was I never told you I love you. What an idiot. Then my knight in not-too-shiny armor saved my life. Of course, I loosened the lid.”
“The lid.”
“Like the pickle jar. I really softened her up for you, you have to admit.”
“She was cursing your name when they took her out.”
“Really?” Lila’s smile was fierce. “That just makes my day.”
“Make mine. Are you going to marry me?”
In her hands, she thought. She didn’t have to look to know. She only had to trust—and choose.
“I have some conditions. I do want to travel, but I think it’s time I stopped living out of two suitcases. I want what I was afraid to want until my possible future passed in front of my eyes. I want a home, Ash. I want one with you. I want to go places, see places—with you—but I want to make a home. I think I can make a good one. I want to work off what’s on my schedule, then focus on writing. I have a new story I really want to tell.”
A new story, she realized, she wanted to live.
“Maybe I’ll house-sit now and again, for an established client or as a favor, but I don’t want to spend my future living in someone else’s space. I want to spend it living in my own. In ours.”
She drew a breath. “And I want you to come to Alaska with me and meet my parents, which is a little scary since I’ve never taken anyone to meet my parents. And I want . . .” She swiped at her cheeks. “This isn’t the time for another jag. I want a dog.”
“What kind of dog?”
“I don’t know, but I want one. I always wanted a dog, but we could never have one because we were always moving around. I don’t want to be a gypsy anymore. I want a home and a dog and children, and you. I want you so much. So, will you marry me with all that hanging on it?”
“I have to think about it.” He laughed, forgot himself long enough to grab her, yank her against him, then eased back quickly when she gasped. “Sorry. I’m sorry.” He took her mouth, pressed light kisses over her face. “I accept your terms, absolutely.”
“Thank God. I love you, and now that I know how good it feels to say it, I’m going to say it a lot.” She ran her fingers through his hair. “But not till spring—to get married. Julie and Luke come first.”
“Next spring. It’s a date.”
“We got through it. All of it.” She rested her head on his shoulder. “We’re where we’re supposed to be—like the golden egg.” Turning her head, she pressed her lips to his throat. “How can I hurt all over and still feel so wonderful?”
“Let’s get those drugs, then you’ll just feel wonderful.”
“You read my mind.” Arms around each other’s waist, they started upstairs.
“Oh, one more thing I want? I want to paint the master bath. I have this idea I want to try.”
“We’ll talk about it.”
They would, she thought as they helped each other upstairs. They’d talk about all sorts of things. They had plenty of time.