“Stop… being… an ass, Nick. Accept… the help.”
He jerked around, crossed the few steps to her side and took her hand in his. He rested his forehead on hers, the world fading into the press of her skin on his, the soft caress of her breath across his cheek. “About damn time you woke up.”
She squeezed his fingers. “And I thought… Prague was bad.”
He laughed. “See? Told you it’s better when I’m the brawn and you’re the brain.” He dropped a kiss on her lips. Soft. Telling. “Never do that to me, again.”
“Only if you promise… the same.”
“Always a counteroffer with you.”
Bodie cleared his throat, grinning like an idiot at the door. “I’ll leave you two alone for a while. Glad to see you’re back amongst the living, Sloane. Nick, Dalton’s just gone for coffee. He told me to let you know, until this is over, he’s not leaving your side, again. And we’ll increase security until we can move you, but it’s been quiet.”
“Quiet’s never a good sign.”
“Noted. Hang tight. There’s a light at the end of the tunnel.”
“In my experience, it’s generally a runaway train.”
Bodie shook his head, his footsteps tapping down the hallway, slowing fading into the increased rhythm of Sloane’s heartbeat, beeping across the monitor. Nick turned, got lost in her eyes for a moment until her eyelids fluttered.
He lifted her hand to his mouth, holding it close as he leaned in. “Rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
She blinked herself back, smiled up at him. “Because you’renever leaving me again,right?”
“If that’s your attempt to scare me by showing you remember what I said on that rooftop, you’ll have to try something else because I meant every damn word.”
Her eyes widened, a glimpse of fire raging in the green depths as she palmed his jaw. “Then, I guess it’s my turn to keep my promise.” She licked her lips, faded, then surged back. “I?—”
Footsteps.
Right outside the entrance.
Nick had his Sig in his hand, the muzzle zeroed in on the door when a nurse dressed in green scrubs bustled in, tray in her hands. She gasped, pushed up against the wall, the tray rattling in her grip. Nick recognized her from that first day in the ER, though she’d only been up to the room a few times since then.
He lowered his weapon, motioned for her to come closer. “I thought the next check-in wasn’t for another thirty minutes?”
The nurse — Cartwright based on her name tag — inched closer, face slightly paled, hands still shaking. “I… Your friend mentioned Ms. Hart had regained consciousness. That warrants a visit. The doctor will be along shortly.”
“Of course.”
He shoved his weapon into his holster, still holding Sloane’s hand as the nurse placed the tray on the table beside the bed. She turned, started messing with a syringe she’d brought, occasionally glancing over at him. Not overtly, more like a quick side eye.
Those voices in his head started chattering, the hairs on his neck prickling. He inched closer, noting the dots of sweat along her temple, how she kept the drug vile angled away. She turned, smiled at him, then reached for Sloane’s IV.
Nick grabbed her wrist, ignoring the way she jumped. “What’s in the syringe?”
The woman pulled against his hold, glancing toward the door, then back. “Just some antibiotics.”
“She’s already had her shot today.”
“This is to prevent her from catching anything she might pick up here.”
Nick frowned. “Then, show me the vial.”
“I…”
She moved. Used Nick’s grip on her wrist to yank him in close — headbutt him across the nose. Pain exploded behind his eyes, pinpricks of light stabbing at his vision as she pulled free — stepped back.
