Page 101 of The FBI Agents Who Stole Me

His fingers twitch against my thigh. “I still love you, kid.”

“Me too. Please get better. Please.”

The weight of the last few hours replays when I close my eyes. Fuller’s body hitting the floor, the blood on my boots, the way Elliot looked at me right before he was shot. Julian’s face, thinking I was hurt. God. My pulse picks up again.

The truck slows in front of a large, dark house with porch lights already on. Bash kills the engine. Riley and Christian follow right behind us.

Julian opens his door before the engine fully dies. His voice loses every soft edge. “Inside. Now. The table is ready for him.”

Calum gets one arm under Elliot, and Bash takes the other. Elliot tries to stand on his own, because apparently almost being full of bullets doesn’t seem to slow him down.

I make it through the door and into the living room before my legs decide they are done. I crash onto the couch hard enough to bounce the cushions.

Riley sits beside me, phone in hand, pretending he isn’t watching me out of the corner of his eye.

“Thanks for coming and for the whole organized-crime-filled rescue,” I tell him.

“I had a light afternoon.” He shrugs like killing a bunch of FBI agents isn’t a big deal. “What can I say except you’re welcome,” he sings out.

I throw the nearest pillow at his head. It bounces off before he even tries to stop it.

“Seriously, Moana. You’re at the kid's table next poker night,” I tell him with a smile.

He laughs, but his phone buzzes before he can answer. His smile thins when he looks down.

“Gotta go. Val needs me.”

I nod.

I sit up straighter. “Is she okay? Call if she needs anything.”

“She will be.” Riley pockets his phone. “And she’s going to need to call in a favor soon.” He says and walks out with a wave over his shoulder.

CHAPTER 30

Elliot

Julian bandaged me up. He said I lost a lot of blood. I was out for the first two days, and when I woke up it felt like I had been hit by a truck. Luckily, I have a great nurse, and I don’t mean Julian.

Lee only truly started grieving once we got home and she was sure that I would live.

At the warehouse, she was bloodstained fury. Her sister would be proud.

Since we’ve been home, we’ve been recovering.

Lee wakes up from my side, where she was napping on the couch.

“Hey, babydoll,” Julian says when he sees her stretch.

She exhales. Even with her nap, she’s still tired.

“Come on, Lee. Want me to run you a bath?” I ask. I’m not even making a proposition, as much as I want to be. She’s forgiven me for far more than I deserve. Still, I grovel and remind her daily I would do anything to be hers.

She nods, and Julian scoops her up and we go down to the master. I follow them. I’m unsteady but getting stronger each day.

In our room, Lee stands there while we undress her piece by piece, silent and distant like she’s floating somewhere outside her own body. Her lip trembles once when I slide her shirt over her head. I pretend not to notice.

The warm water starts running, and steam curls through the bathroom while Julian helps her step into the tub. I climb in behind her a second later, shucking my clothes because I don’t trust her not to collapse.