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I cringe to hear what these men were put through.
“Is our guard alive?”
He shakes his head. “All killed.”
Bloody hell.
Cormac interrogates him until it’s clear he’s got very little left to offer. Keenan nods. Cormac pulls the trigger. Without question or flinching, Boner drags the body out of the room.
We move on to the next.
“Were you in Boston?” I ask another, but he isn’t as complacent as the last. He spits at me. Spittle hits my cheek and my stomach rolls, but I swipe my face clean and look back at him. I don’t strike him, though I want to, but stare him straight in the eyes. “Were you hired as well?”
He opens his mouth to speak, when shouting sounds behind me. I jerk my head around to the interrogation room being jerked open. I can’t see who it is, I can’t stop what they’re doing, but the next thing I know there’s a deafening shout, something strikes me, and I fall to the floor. I’ve been hit in the chest.
Someone’s on me, hitting me about the head, but I shove them off and strike back, when we roll, my head hits the floor, and the world dims.Bright lights. Beeps. And so much fucking pain.
I try to open my eyelids but they’re too heavy. I try to lift my hand but it’s made of lead. I try to open my mouth but my lids are sealed shut.
And then she’s here.
The pain lessens when I feel her hand at my temple. I can hear her soft, pretty voice, though I can’t open my eyes to see her.
“You’re alright,” Fiona says in my ear, her warm presence like balm to my soul. “You’re going to be alright. Now open those stubborn eyes of yours and look to me, will you?”
I try, but they’re too heavy. I sink back into sleep.
Her voice comes to me in the quiet, reading.
Poetry, I think. Her voice is so pretty. I tell myself to ask her to do it again when I’m lucid.
Beeps and sounds, whirs of a machine and conversation.
After what seems like ages, I finally open my eyes. Fiona’s sitting beside me looking at her phone, but she jumps to her feet when she feels me looking at her. “Lachlan. My God, Lachlan. Sebastian!”
“Don’t be sounding the fucking alarm,” I mutter. My mouth feels odd, like my tongue’s too swollen. It’s dry from disuse, and it takes effort to talk. “I’m fucking fine.”
“You bloody well are not,” she says with that flare of temper I’ve come to love about her, even as she drives me mad. “You lost so much goddamn blood, and the filthy bugger tore a hole right through your shoulder.”
I reach a hand out tentatively to my bandaged shoulder.
“How’d he get in?”
“Had a code, didn’t he?” she asks with an eyeroll. “Seems they doubled up guards in some places so when the guards were brought in, the new men went under the radar.
“Bloody hell.”
“Oh, it’s been a bloody hell alright,” she mutters.
“Tell me everything. Who’s hurt?”
“All of the people of importance are fine,” she says with flashing eyes. “The assailants most emphatically are not. I don’t know what has happened to them, but I know for a fact that they’ve been summarily dealt with. Keenan’s put Nolan in charge of security for now, and it’s been a mess getting people back up in place. The girls have all been pretty much grounded here on the premises.”
“Wow.”
She smiles. “Seriously. Megan was attacked the day you were, by one of the guards who was dumb enough to attack her in front of her fucking husband, so that, as you can imagine, didn’t go over too well.”
“Shite.”
“Absolutely,” she affirms, nodding. “She was brought home safe, and the man who attacked her obviously wasn’t, but good riddance.”
She lifts a bottle beside her and takes a long sip. “And now,” she says. “Keenan is confident they’ve put an end to the threat against us. And we made sure you’re safe.”
“I’m bloody safe,” I mutter. “Just want to get out of this fucking bed and go back to normal.”
“Of course you do,” she says softly, placing a hand on my arm. “And I want that, too. But we aren’t going to go against doctor’s orders.”
I smile. The muscles in my face even hurt. “Oh really?”
“Oh, really,” she says, clearly enjoying her role as head nurse, or whatever the fuck she fancies herself. “I love you, and you’re not going to put yourself in danger anymore.”
I push myself up to sitting with effort. “Might be hard for me to move or talk,” I say. “But I’ll be better soon, and I’d like to remind you who wears the pants around here.”
I give her what I hope is a stern look, but I’m not sure I’m very threatening, as she bends her head to mine so our foreheads touch. “There he is,” she says softly. “My bossy man. God, it feels good to have you back.”
