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“You need to stop being so mean to him. You’re much bigger, and I’m sure he’s just as confused as you are about the way you’re merged together now.”
See? I told you she likes me better, the snake crowed, earning another glare.
Doc cleared his throat and, wisely, hid his smile. “Right, that’s all the machines unhooked. You’re free to go. Striker can take you to the shower. I’m sure you’d like to get cleaned up.” He took a step back and folded his arms. “Far as I can see, you don’t have any health issues other than what you’d expect from being bedbound for weeks. You’ll feel weak, you’ve lost weight and some muscle mass, but that’s about it. Take it easy for a while, eat, rest, and you’ll soon be back to normal.” He shared a look with Striker. “Or better than normal.” His laugh was forced, and Striker made a mental note never to send the medic into an operation that required undercover work. He wasn’t fooling anyone.
Especially Friday. “What aren’t you telling me?”
While the medic turned red and looked like he might bolt from the room, Striker threw back her covers and shifted her legs around, getting her ready to stand. “Nothing I can’t explain once you’re all cleaned up. Let’s go.”
With one last glance that promised the topic wasn’t closed, she let him help her to her feet. She swayed in place, and he held her waist tight to steady her. Emotion flooded him, making his own knees wobble. She was there. Alive. In front of him. Overwhelmed by emotions he couldn’t fully comprehend, he wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her tight.
“Never again,” he forced the words through his closing throat. “You hear me, bébé, never again.”
“Never again,” she promised, the words muffled against his chest.
…
Friday was glad Striker carried her to the shower room. Not because she felt weak, although she definitely did, but because she didn’t want even an inch to separate them. She wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her c
heek against his chest.
Hers.
Her other half. And she’d almost lost him. She blinked hard, willing the tears back, focusing on the present. She’d prayed for a miracle, and that’s what she’d received. It was a second chance, and she wasn’t going to waste a moment of it.
“I want to get married,” she blurted. “To you,” she added, just in case there was any confusion.
“Bébé, I’d tie you to me with rope if I could get away with it. Marriage is definitely happening. So is tagging you with a tracking device and possibly handcuffing you to the bed at night. There’s no way I’m letting you slip away from me ever again.”
Laughter bubbled up inside of her. This must be what happiness felt like. “I’m not sure about the handcuffing thing. That sounds uncomfortable.”
“We’ll see.” He looked down at her, his eyes sparkling. “I already ordered wedding bands.”
“Oh, that’s good.” Although she’d had something else in mind.
“But?” He read her face far too easily.
“I thought we might get matching tattoos, instead. They’re about as permanent as you can get. You can take off a ring. You can’t take off a tattoo. Well, not easily anyway.”
He threw back his head and laughed hard. Although she wasn’t sure what she’d said that was so entertaining. His laughter vibrated through her body, like bubbles inside of her. It was the most glorious feeling, one she never wanted to end.
As they made their way down the corridor, his team began to converge on them. She turned her face into his neck, worried what reception they’d give her and a little embarrassed at being carried.
“Hey, girl,” Sandi said. “Glad to see you awake. I went shopping for you. Now you have clothes that will fit.”
The kindness melted away her worries, and she pulled her face out of Striker’s neck. “Thanks, Sandi.”
As soon as their eyes met, Sandi jerked with shock. The reaction was gone in a flash, replaced by a wide, welcoming smile. “You’re more than welcome.” She shared a look with her team leader that Friday couldn’t quite read.
When she looked up at Striker, his face was an innocent mask. Oh yes, there was definitely something strange going on. And as soon as she got her man alone, she’d make sure she got to the bottom of it.
“I’m cooking,” Mace said by way of hello.
Friday looked up at him, waiting for his reaction. Sure enough, shock registered in his face, too, before he quickly covered it. Her stomach tightened. There was something very wrong with her.
Mace’s eyes shot to Striker, who grinned, evidently pleased with himself. Whatever shocked his team, didn’t bother him. Her eyes narrowed at him. Sneaky man. What had he done?
“I’m glad you aren’t dead,” Mace said, pulling her attention back to him.
