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“You have leads to work, it’s okay,” I reminded her, drawing the comforter over us. “I’m going to stay and get some sleep with him.”
Mya nodded, then wordlessly left with Oliver, shutting the door behind them.
I shut my eyes, resting my head near his, trying to find comfort in the steady beats of his heart.
Unsure how long I’d been out, when I slowly came to, I realized I was alone in the bed.
Seeing Carter in the armchair across the room, I sat upright in relief.
Only in his briefs, chest lifting with deep inhalations, he clutched the leather chair arms, head tipped back, eyes closed or on the ceiling.
“Searching for the writing up there?” I whispered, breaking the silence and doing my best not to cry with relief. If he could walk across the room and sit upright, he had to be doing better.
He slowly dropped his head, meeting my eyes. The side of his lip lifted, and that was all it took for me to jump off the bed and hurry to him. I fell to my knees in front of him, gently setting my hands on his strong thigh muscles as he dipped his hand between us, guiding my chin up.
“If I wasn’t so sore and tired, and your world hadn’t been flipped upside down . . . the position you’re in right now, angel,” he murmured, a dark edge to his voice.
“I see you’re feeling much better.” Thank God. I reached around his arm to check his forehead, confirming his fever broke.
“What day is it?” he asked, a bit of grogginess returning to his tone.
“Monday. Probably evening time now.” Depending on how long we slept. “You passed out yesterday after Bahar and Easton left.”
“I’m sorry I did that. Are you okay?”
“Did you just apologize to me for being sick?” I swear, this man. “Let’s get you back to bed.” I tried to stand, but he stopped me.
“Is there any news?” He frowned. “Did anything happen while I was out of it?”
I wished I could tell him something. Anything. But all I could give him was, “We’re all safe, that’s all I know.” And right now, that’s all that matters.
72
DIANA
FOUR NIGHTS LATER
“Craig still hasn’t revealed anything new. Does that mean he doesn’t know anything helpful? Is that why The Collective hasn’t killed him, because they’re not worried?” Mya paced the living room, and it took all my strength not to mirror her movements. “Jared must’ve known something, because he’s already dead.”
Oliver blocked her path with his body, preventing her from pacing again. “The President has him being held at the Pentagon. Kind of hard to kill him at one of the most secure sites on the planet. The second they relocate him, his ass is grass just like Jared’s.”
Mom was both grieving and furious to know her boyfriend had manipulated her the way Sierra had me. Turned out we had something in common after all. We’d trusted the wrong people.
Mom’s apologies to Carter, right along with Dad’s this week, wouldn’t hack it, though. I needed some grade A groveling before I’d forgive them for how they’d treated him over the years. Carter had said he didn’t care, but I had a feeling that was him being a typical tough guy. He didn’t need to be accepted by my parents, but I knew secretly he’d like to be. They were about to become his in-laws after all.
“And when they relocate Craig, that’s when we intercept the men sent to kill him,” Carter said, breaking through my thoughts as he set aside his laptop.
While everyone continued talking, I went to the bar cart, deciding a glass of scotch might help take the edge off for Carter.
Although the rest of Falcon was part of our conversation right now, only Mya and Oliver were physically in the room with us. Sydney, Gray, and the others were split up all over the U.S., but we’d connected over a web call to see if we’d missed anything now that we knew Sierra and her late grandmother had been part of the group.
Our timeline had exploded with new details, going all the way back before Sierra was even born. Unfortunately, none of that information pointed anywhere new.
Maybe Mya and Oliver want something to drink, too? I decided on a bottle of Macallan single malt Scotch whisky and poured a few glasses.
Situating the bottle back in place, a bowl of M&M’s caught my eye and I whispered my thoughts out loud, “If I gave you a hundred M&M’s but told you six were poisoned, would you still eat them?” Armed with two glasses, I faced the room.
“This guy would,” Mya said, nudging Oliver in the side. “He likes to live on the edge.”
