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Dakota scowls. “Don’t even think about it.”
By the time we make it to Fallon’s room, Wyatt’s already there.
Fallon sits upright in the hospital bed in a white gown, thick caramel hair hanging past her shoulders. It looks like she went eight seconds on a bull. She’s bruised from head to toe, and a nasty shiner paints her right eye. Wyatt stands next to her, a tight expression on his face.
Dakota cries as she rocks her sister in her arms, and though Fallon’s dry-eyed, she’s shaking.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m okay.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Dakota searches her sister’s face. “You don’t have to pretend.”
“I’m fine, Koty,” Fallon insists. But I don’t miss the tremble of her lower lip, warring with the stubborn jut of her chin.
“How do you feel?” I ask, reaching down to squeeze her leg through the blankets.
She stares at me with glassy, drug-laced eyes. “I’m higher than a fucking choir,” Fallon slurs, sticking an arm up in the air like a jazz hand. She yanks at her IV tubing and Wyatt lunges to steady it.
Fallon barks a harsh laugh. “Down to three lives now.”
“Don’t say that,” Dakota scolds, helping her settle back into the bed.
“Tougher than me, that’s for sure,” Wyatt drawls. He takes a long last look at Fallon, whose eyes are slowly closing, then crosses the room.
I follow him out into the hall.
“Hey.” I snag his arm before he can duck out. “You okay?” He looks shell-shocked as the adrenaline wears off and the hard reality of the night sinks in.
The muscles in his jaw and throat work. His shoulders slump. His eyes stay glued to Fallon’s hospital door as he runs a hand through his shaggy hair to grip the back of his neck. “He hit her, D,” he says, his voice breaking. “He could have killed her.”
“You go back to the ranch. Ride it off.”
“Nah.” He shakes his head. “I’m gonna head to Fallon’s and clean up her place. I don’t want her to see it like that.”
“You have time,” I tell him, wanting him to rest. “It’ll be a few days before she goes home.”
“I just…” He clears his throat. “I have to get outta here. Do something.”
I watch him stride down the hall.
We’ll all have to wrestle with the weight of tonight, but maybe none more than Fallon.
A noise behind me has me turning. Dakota stands in the doorway. Her smile is the brightest light I’ve ever seen. “Fallon’s asleep. Let’s go home.”
Dawn’s breaking on the horizon by the time we get back to the ranch. Without words, I carry Dakota upstairs, strip her bare, and kiss every inch of her skin—every bruise that bastard inflicted on her. I show herI love youwith my mouth between her legs, then I pull her on top of me and fuck her until we’re both prepared to detonate.
After, my hand strokes slow, lazy circles over her belly as we lie in bed. I’m careful of the bandage on her belly. It makes me want to kill the bastard all over again for marking her.
“I don’t think this is what the doctor meant when he said rest and relaxation,” she whispers.
I give her a devilish grin, push up on my elbow and snag my jeans. From my pocket, I bring out her dog tag. Dakota watches as I remove the tracker, then slip the chain back over her neck. Where it’s always belonged.
Her beautiful brown eyes are glassy with tears. “I never had any doubt that you’d come for us,” she says, rubbing her thumb over the tag.
