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"I didn’t expect you to arrive with the air-ambulance," I murmur.
"He’s my brother." Michael scowls. "Of course, I was going to be there for him."
He holds out his hand.
"What?" I blink.
"The phone…" He gestures to the device that I have clutched between my fingers. "I assume that’s Christian’s?"
"Ah, yes." I hand the phone over, and Michael pockets it.
"How did he get shot?" he asks.
I look away, then reach over and run my fingers through Christian’s sweat-dampened hair. "If I had known that he had a phone, I would have called you earlier," I say softly.
"Hmm…" Michael folds his arms over his chest. "What’s going on between you two; why didn’t he tell you about the phone earlier?"
"I … I don’t know," I lie.
"Hmm…" He purses his lips. "And I assume you don’t know anything about who shot him either?"
I glance away and bite my lower lip. No way am I letting any of them in on what my connection with the stranger is. And definitely not when Christian is unconscious. He’s the only one who has been on my side since the beginning… Although, when he’s awake, that might change too.
"Ever since you helped Karma to escape, I haven’t trusted you. I wasn’t in favor of Christian marrying you either, but he convinced me otherwise. Now, I wonder if I should have questioned the situation further. Whether I should have shot you like had been my first instinct."
I pull the jacket closer, then glance out of the window for a few seconds. "The gun... Christian had a gun he used to shoot at the other guy." I turn back to Michael. "Someone needs to find the gun; he dropped it in the snow."
He peers into my eyes, then nods. "I’m on it." He holds my gaze. "If anything happens to my brother, I won’t let you live, Aurora," he says in a voice filled with menace.
A shiver runs down my spine, and I hunch my shoulder. "If anything happens to him, I don’t want to live," I say in a low voice.
He scowls at me. "My brother seems to think that you can be trusted; you’d best pray that he is right."
Christian
I come awake with a start. The scent of antiseptic is so strong in my nostrils, I know I can only be in one place. I take in the glare of the fluorescent lights that bounce off of the white sheets, the white ceiling, the white tiled floor, the white walls. I try to move, and my entire body protests. My side feels numb, and my limbs feel weighted down. I raise my arm and find it’s attached to something warm.
Slowly, I turn my head to find her on a chair pulled up next to the bed. Her fingers are clasped around mine, and she’s curled into the back of the chair, fast asleep. Her eyelashes are dark fans against her cheekbones; dark circles shadow her eyes like she hasn’t had much sleep. Her legs are pulled up under her, and I’m sure she must be uncomfortable all coiled up like that. I lower my gaze to where her slim, delicate fingers are twined with mine.
She’s ringless, of course, considering she tossed the engagement ring into the snow. I don’t care about the cost; I can get her another one… But the fact that she did it makes me see her in a new light. This isn’t some spineless woman who would accept my dominance without questioning it… And the fact is, I like that. After the women I’ve met who were taken in either with my money or my notoriety—neither of which seem to have any impact on her—she’s a breath of fresh air.
Clearly, she also saved my life. I glance down at the bandage covering my chest. The last I remember is her stitching me up, then helping me to bed. I must have fallen asleep right away, for I don’t remember much after that. I raise my left arm and wince. But the pain isn’t too bad. Maybe it’s the meds or the painkillers, but while I feel like I’ve been put through a wringer, all said and done, I feel okay.
I glance up to find her staring at me. Her golden-brown eyes seem to burn with unsaid emotions. "Whiskey," I murmur, then clear my throat, "it’s like drowning in whiskey."
"What?" She frowns.
"Your eyes"—I quirk my lips—"they are whiskey-colored, and your mouth"—I lower my gaze to her lips—"like a red rosebud in half-bloom."
"Are you feeling unwell? Do you have a fever?" She reaches over to place her palm on my forehead. "Are you still in pain?"
"No." I shake my head. "I mean it, you know. You are beautiful, Aurora."
"Stop it." Her blush deepens. "How are you feeling now?"
"I’ll live." I try to sit up, then wince when my chest hurts. "How did I get here?"
"I used your phone to call Michael."
