Page 162 of Missile Strike

He turned his head.

She sat next to him, looking exhausted but still beautiful. He raked her with his gaze, looking for injuries. The only thing he could see was a cut on her cheek.

“Are you hurt?” He croaked the words through a throat that felt as dry as desert sand.

She stood and held a straw to his lips. He sucked in soothing, cold water.

“No.” Her smile fled. Fear darkened her eyes. “You could have died.”

The tremor in her lips had him struggling to sit. Pain knifed through his back and side.

A gentle hand pressed against his chest. “You’re going to rip your stitches.” The bed whirred as it lifted, slowly elevating his torso.

“It’s not like this—” the words stumbled out of him. “My job. I wear a vest. I have a team. I—”

“I know.” She brushed his hair away from his face.

He waited for her to say more. When she didn’t, an ache took up residence beneath his sternum. This was where she told him she couldn’t handle his life. His job.

“Talia?” he asked.

Her face crumpled. “She’s…” Her voice trailed off.

He could figure out the rest. He’d managed to get off a couple of shots after being hit. Not that he regretted anything. She’d been trying to kill Bella.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You saved me.” Her hand slid from his hair, and he wanted it back. “I can’t believe she lied to me for so many years.”

The laugh she gave was self-deprecating, and it set his teeth on edge. “I used to think I could control everything in my life, and it would keep me safe,” she said.

“It’s not your fault.”

“I know.”

His skepticism must have shown on his face.

She twined her fingers with his and squeezed. “I know. Talia’s childhood wasn’t my fault. Nor was how she chose to cope with it—or rather not cope.” Her mouth turned down at the corners. “I spent so many years letting her manipulate every fear I had that I never realized how small I’d let my world become. She wanted my life so badly that she never built one of her own.”

They both fell silent.

Bella spoke first. “Nathan followed up on Miran Hassan’s death. The Los Angeles police confirmed he died of natural causes, and Talia wasn’t even in Los Angeles when he died.”

“So she didn’t kill him.”

She shook her head. “No. But I think it was his death that set her off. That, and you coming back into my life.”

“I sure as hell won’t apologize for that.”

A faint smile brightened Bella’s pale features. “Good. I don’t want you to.”

Her smile slipped away. Her finger traced over the metal railing on his hospital bed, gathering herself as if preparing a speech.

Tension tightened his shoulders.

“I hate seeing you in this bed,” she whispered.

Better than in a metal drawer. His coping mechanism during deployment had always been dark humor, but she probably wouldn’t appreciate it the way his teammates had, so he kept his mouth shut.