“I watched her die,” Vaughn said, his voice raw. “And I thought she was you.”
The homeless woman. She’d given that woman her clothes to throw Vaughn and everyone else off her trail. She hadn’t even asked the woman’s name. Hadn’t cared, had only seen her as a means to an end. And because of it, she’d gotten that woman killed.
Bile raced up her throat, and she lurched toward the bathroom. Dry-heaved over the sink as tears streamed in an uncontrollable flood. Vaughn was right there beside her, his big hand rubbing circles in the center of her back.
“I killed her,” she gasped. “Oh God. I killed her.”
She couldn’t draw in an entire breath, her throat too tight, her lungs painfully constricted. White dots started dancing in front of her eyes.
“Jesus.” Vaughn scooped her up. She was helpless to do anything but wrap her arms around his neck and try to keep breathing as he strode to the bed. He sat down and cradled her in his lap.
“Sage, breathe. In and out, nice and slow.” His voice was a soothing murmur against her temple. His hand continued its slow circles on her back. “C’mon. Deep breath in. Let it out. In. Out.”
She focused on his soft words, the comfort of his arms around her, and his hand on her back. Several long minutes passed before her breathing settled to something approaching normal. She curled into him, buried her face against his neck, and let the grief, the wrenching sobs she’d been suppressing, come. And still, he held her. Soothed her.
When the crying jag ended, she lay limp in his arms, exhausted. He shifted them both up onto the bed, and the mattress sank under their combined weight as he lay down with her.
“I didn’t mean for her to die,” she whispered.
He pushed a strand of hair off her forehead. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t kill her.”
“I didn’t pull the trigger, but she’d be alive if I hadn’t given her my clothes.” She blinked away another round of tears. “I didn’t even ask her name. She died because they thought she was me, and I don’t even know her name…”
“Ah, vixen.” Vaughn pressed a kiss to her forehead. “What can I do to help? Please, tell me what I can do.”
In truth, he was already doing it. She’d been alone for so long she didn’t remember what it felt like to not be, and having someone comfort her was a new experience. A shoulder to cry on was so much better than muffling sobs in a pillow, soldiering through the pain and fear and loneliness that were her life because she had no other choice. For once, she could let herself fall apart, secure in the knowledge Vaughn would be right there to help her put the pieces back together when it was over.
She shifted closer to him. “Just…hold me.”
His arms circled her, and he dragged her in, tangling their legs together, curling his body around hers like a shield. “I’m here. I have you.”
She buried her face against his chest. Listened to the air rush in and out of his lungs, and the strong, steady pulse of his heartbeat. “Why did you come after me again?”
Vaughn said nothing for so long she didn’t think he’d answer. “I wasn’t going to.”
“You shouldn’t have. You should’ve walked away and let me disappear.”
“I can’t.” He huffed out a breath, which sounded a lot like a self-depreciating laugh. “I once accused Cam of having a hero complex. Turns out I have one, too. I know you’re in danger, and as long as you are, I can’t walk away.”
“Vaughn, I’ve been in danger for a long time. The only thing you’ve accomplished by tracking me down is putting yourself directly in the line of fire, too.”
“The line of fire’s a place I’ve been before. Multiple times. I’m not worried.”
“You should be.” She tilted her head back to look up at him. “Giuseppe is dangerous.”
He flashed a smile that was just a bit mean. “So am I.”
Oh, this man. This stubborn, grumbly man. He was no bark and all bite, and she loved that about him. She kissed the underside of his jaw, and he dropped his chin to his chest to meet her gaze. So many things passed between them in that moment—thrilling, scary things she didn’t dare name. She didn’t know who moved first, but their lips met in a soft, soul-wrenching kiss, and she ached to be closer to him. Maybe she was using him as a distraction from all the self-hatred boiling inside her, or maybe it was a much more primal need than a diversion, but she suddenly wanted one more time with him more than she wanted anything else in her life. Just one brief moment to experience pleasure with the only man she’d ever felt comfortable enough with to let herself go.
She pushed him to his back and rose up over him, straddling him. He was already hard, and she rocked her hips, grinding against his length through the layers of his clothes.