“—knife.”
I flick the blade and make quick work of the ties. Mac stands on shaky legs, sucking in sharp, pained breaths as I peel them from her wrists.
“Baby,” I whisper, staring at the damage.
My eyes lift, finding hers. Her entire body has begun to shake. Shock is setting in fast. She holds my gaze as she trembles, her expression tortured. “Evie’s going to be okay.”
She says it as a statement but I hear her need for reassurance. I nod, cupping her cheeks in my hands. My voice is firm. “Evie’s going to be fine.”
“That sonofabitch shot her. Twice. I told her not to come.”
“Would you have not come if the situation were reversed?”
Her voice wobbles yet she stands strong. “No.”
“Then don’t even go there.”
Mac nods, swallowing. I take my hands from her face and wrap them around her. My hug locks her arms by her sides. She buries her face in my neck for a moment. I died a thousand deaths in the hours she was gone.
The faint sound of a siren cuts through the air.
Casey leaves to direct the ambulance officers while Jared and Travis push down on Evie’s wounds. She’s breathing but it’s erratic. There’s nothing we can do short of getting in the way, so we stand together and wait.
“Jake,” she whispers hoarsely, shivering.
“Mmm?”
“Don’t let go.”
My arms lock tighter, my eyes burning as I hold on. I don’t want to let go.
I let out an unsteady breath.
Don’t ever ask me to let go.
MAC
I wake, blinking open gritty eyes to a warm summer morning. The sun streams through an open window. Sheer white curtains billow in the soft breeze, bringing with it the salty tang of the nearby ocean. Moving my head on the pillow, I realise I’ve slept in my own room for the first time in three nights. My bed is a soft fluffy cloud, so much nicer than the rock they call a mattress in the doom of Ward 2A.
My room here is decorated in white. Cool, crisp sheets, fresh painted walls, white-framed photographs. No colour. Not in my private space. Colour is fine to wear, but here I need no distraction; white is quiet, inoffensive, and gives me no bullshit.
I was in the hospital overnight, suffering minor wounds and dehydration. The second night I slept in a chair, refusing to leave the Critical Care Unit where Evie was stationed. She fought a hard battle through the first night, but she won, surviving two gunshot wounds that should have been fatal. You would think Jared would be rejoicing, but he’s moping around as though she’s in a coma with days left to live. It makes no sense but that’s my brothers for you. They’re unpredictable dickheads.
A bang comes from my left. I turn my head. Jake is carrying a timber tray in both hands, using it to push open the bedroom door. His eyes come to me once the tray is stable. He assesses me with a careful scan as he walks in.
Seemingly assured I’m alive and breathing, he sets his burden on the white-washed timber bedside table. It has my belly rumbling. Juice, coffee, toast heaped with poached eggs and a pile of bacon high enough to feed all the animals of Africa. I glare at the addition of a yellow rose in a little white ceramic vase. It’s not red, but it still screams romance.
“What’s with the flower, Nurse Betty?”
He straightens and folds his arms. “You’re a grouch when you’re injured, Princess. Thought it might cheer you up.”
Jake has been unusually solicitous since my kidnapping, as though another abduction is imminent. The hovering is downright aggravating, but I can’t ignore the benefits. Jake has brought me food, dressed solely in a pair of football shorts. That singular scrap of clothing makes his miraculous body appear all the bigger.
My eyes shift from the wonderment of his chest and back to the rose. It has no doubt been snipped from the neighbour’s yard in an attempt to add a little happiness to my morning. It’s in the prime of its life—petals the colour of sunshine unfurled and glistening with morning dew. It’s bright, cheery, and annoying. Yet warmth steals over me, ripping away my usual morning churlishness.
I force a scowl. “Do you think it worked?”
“Yes.”
His chin lifts, daring me to tell him his efforts have all been for nought.
“It’s pretty,” I mutter, reaching for my coffee. The stretch pulls on the bandages wrapped around my wrists. I wince.
Jake grabs the mug before I can reach. “Would you sit up?” he barks. “If you try drinking hot coffee while lying down, you’ll tip it all over yourself and end up with third-degree burns.”
“Oh my god, you sound like my mother.”
“For fuck’s sake. I do not,” he argues, indignant. With my beverage in one hand, Jake uses the other to shove pillows into a pile behind me, forcing me into an inclined position. Once satisfied that I’m suitably vertical, he holds out the mug. “It’s just logic and gravity.”
“Gravity, schmavity.”
Jake huffs, sitting down on the edge of my bed. “Do you always have to have the last word?”
“Of course.” I breathe on the black liquid in my mug, cooling it before taking a sip. Warmth floods my system, bringing me to life. Jake is a master at brewing the perfect blend. The coffee is strong as an ox. Black, rich, and sugar free. My toes all but curl with pleasure. “You should bring me this exact coffee in bed every day.”
“Suck my dick every day and I will.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re so crude.”
He snorts. I have everyone beat when it comes to hurling obscenities, but Jake is a close second.
“Suck your own dick,” I add.
Jake reaches for a slice of bacon from the plate. “I would if I could.”
“That’s my bacon.”
He shoves the whole rasher in his mouth. Eyes flash with defiance as he chews the huge mouthful.
I glare as I sip at my coffee.
When Jake finally swallows, he says, “I made enough for two.”
He picks up the plate and sets it on my lap. Then he climbs on the bed, his big body shifting until he’s settled in beside me, our shoulders brushing.
I glance sideways. “What are you doing?”
Jake snags another rasher and gives me a wink. “Lying here with you, eating breakfast.”
“I’m not going to be abducted from my bed,” I point out as he munches his way through my food.
“I know, but I like this.”
“Like what?”
“This.” Jake waves the remainder of his bacon in a little arc over our laps, anointing my sheets with tiny droplets of grease. Then he pops it in his mouth, chews, and swallows. “Being with you.” He turns his head. It brings us so close our noses almost touch. “You smell good.”