Page 7 of His to Keep

From the guns these men carried and the violence in their eyes, Liam had a sneaking suspicion about what exactly that relationship was.

And he didn't want to think about the very, very big mistake he'd just made.

Liam had never met Zane before, but he was starting to believe that he did know him.

Zane Thorne, the head of the Thorne mafia family.

The man whose criminal network kept the ER full of victims, innocent and otherwise.

The man whose life Liam had just saved.

A fresh dawn was starting to bleed into the night by the time that Liam finally got back to his apartment. He fumbled with his keys, hands trembling as he jammed the key into the lock and twisted it open.

The door slammed shut behind him, and he wasted no time in securing every lock and bolt he had. Only then did he allow himself a moment to lean against the door, his chest heaving from exertion and fear.

"Get a grip, Liam," he muttered to himself, shaking his head as if to dislodge the memories of the night. "You're a doctor. You've dealt with worse."

But even as he said the words, he knew they rang hollow.

There was nothing routine about saving a mafia boss.

Pushing away from the door, Liam made his way to the bathroom, stripping off his bloodstained clothes as he went. The sight of Zane's red lifeblood smeared across his hands only served to heighten his horror, and he couldn't wait to wash it all away.

The steaming hot water of the shower hissed as it hit his skin, and Liam stood under the spray, scrubbing at his body with a fervor that left his flesh pink and raw. He watched as the crimson stains swirled down the drain, disappearing into the darkness below.

"Tomorrow," he whispered to himself, eyes closed against the sting of hot water. "Or, today, now, I guess. Just go to work like everything's normal. That's all you have to do."

Zane won't forget what you did for him,Colt had said.

Well, Liam hoped he did.

He hoped that Zane forgot all about him — and that Colt did, too.

Chapter three

Colt stood in the hospital room, his eyes flicking between Zane and the younger man who fussed over him. Rowan, Zane's partner, adjusted the pillows behind his lover's back with care.

"Stop fussing, Rowan. I'm fine," Zane said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Fine? You wereshot!" Rowan huffed. He sounded peeved, but off to the side of the bed, where Zane couldn't see, Rowan's hands were shaking ever so slightly as they pretended to smooth down the fabric.

It annoyed Colt, watching the affectionate exchange between the two men. He shifted his weight from one foot to another, his arms crossed over his chest. He kept watch on the door.

The Thorne family had its tentacles entwined in every corner of the city, including this hospital. This was a private room. Safe. Colt had his men positioned through the hospital, watching over its hallways and entrances.

They should be safe here.

But they'd assumed they were safe at the bar, too.

As Rowan talked to Zane, Colt couldn't shake the unease that gnawed at him. His dark eyes scanned the room, searching for any signs of danger.

He'd failed to protect Zane. He hadn't expected someone to hit them where they least expected it.

He wouldn't let something like that happen again.

He thought back to the chaotic scene at the bar, the echo of the gunshot still ringing in his ears—

"Is everything okay, Colt?" Zane asked, snapping him out of his reverie.

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