When he blinked at her, lifting a brow, her cheeks flushed bright red. “Oh holy crap!” She covered her mouth with her hand. “I can’t believe I just said that. That was ridiculously forward of me, wasn’t it? Sheesh, I—”
He grabbed one of her hands, giving her fingers a squeeze. The poor woman had thoroughly embarrassed herself. And if he wasn’t so hung up on the dark-haired reporter fifteen feet away, he would have been charmed by the pretty paramedic’s proposal. As it was, the only thing he could do was ease her discomfort. “A woman who saves lives, stitches head lacs, and cooks?” He waggled his eyebrows. “Marry me. Marry me right now.” She preened and giggled. “Alas, I’ll have to ask for a rain check.”
“Oh.” She looked disappointed. “Sure.” She regained her composure and reached into her hip pocket to pull out a business card. “This is my company card.” She grabbed the ballpoint pen hooked in her breast pocket and quickly scribbled something on the little white rectangle of card stock. “And that’s my cell number on the back.”
He politely accepted the card, knowing he’d never use it, just as Samantha walked up to them. Faint bruises were beginning to form on her cheek and the side of her jaw, and her wrists were red and raw from the restraints. The sight of both made him want to kill Venom all over again.
“Head lac sutured and ready for action.” He lifted his hair to show her Cheri’s workmanship.
“So I see.” Samantha’s eyes were remote. Her cheeks pale. Ozzie frowned at her, trying to determine if she was in shock or… “Washington says we should go back to the shop for a while.” A muscle ticked in her jaw. Her left eyelid gave one tiny twitch. “He fears a knee-jerk reaction and maybe some knee-jerk retribution from the Basilisks for the next couple of hours. He’ll call us when he’s got most of them off the streets and he’s ready for us to head down to the station to give our official statements.”
“Sounds like a plan to me.” He smiled at her. Especially the part about going back to the shop. Because the shop had a bed. His bed.
His smile quickly turned into a frown when she didn’t smile back, just nodded and looked away, blinking like something was stuck in her eye.
*
Black Knights Inc. Headquarters
After they got back to the shop, and after the BKI ladies had finished grilling Samantha and Ozzie and tut-tutting like old Jewish grannies over Ozzie’s head wound, Samantha faked a headache and begged off on eating the Pizano’s pizza they had delivered. “I think I’d rather head upstairs and try to take a nap,” she said, rubbing her temple.
Truth was, she had no intention of napping. She needed some time alone. Time to finally admit the truth to herself. The truth that Ozzie was…Ozzie. Smart, brave, funny, sexy, and not the kind of guy to settle down. When she’d heard him asking that pixie of a paramedic to marry him, she’d stopped in her tracks. And then when he’d taken the pixie’s card, she’d wanted to throw up.
Thankfully, she hadn’t tossed her cookies. But what she did was find herself sitting alone in the guest room on the third floor of the BKI warehouse, the urge to cry rising in her like a tide. For a woman who never cried, she’d sure been on the verge a lot today.
Then again, bawling like a baby after realizing all your hopes and dreams are just that—hopes and dreams, not reality—was pretty much a given. Or so all those sappy John Green love stories and Katherine Heigl movies had led her to believe.
Another thing all those sappy John Green love stories and Katherine Heigl movies had taught was that when you were nursing a broken heart, you called your best friend. When Ozzie had taken her to the Tribune Tower to pick up her stuff before heading to BKI, she’d seen Donny just long enough to give him a huge bear hug. Now, she needed her best friend. She needed to confess that, despite all her good intentions, she’d fallen in love with a bad boy who just happened to be a wonderful man.
A wonderful man with a penchant for changing women as often as he changes socks.
Dumping her purse onto the bed, she found her phone and punched in Donny’s number. He answered on the first ring. “Sammie? Everything okay, sweetie?”
She opened her mouth, but the only thing that came out was a pathetic little squeak.
“Samantha, what is it?” Donny’s voice was frantic.
The whole story burst from her like a dam unable to hold back floodwaters. Everything that had happened. The way Ozzie had saved her, so bravely, so selflessly. The way they had made love, so purely, so passionately. All the things they’d said. All the laughs they’d shared. The only things she kept to herself were the Black Knights’ secrets.
“I knew you were falling for him weeks ago.” Donny sighed. “You talked about him all the time. And when he calls to invite you for coffee or a drink? You start to glow.”
“I knew I liked him,” Samantha said, sniffling, hugging the pillow close and burying her nose in it because it smelled of the same fabric softener Ozzie used. “I knew I lusted after him. But I didn’t realize I loved him until…” She shook her head.
“Mmm,” Donny hummed. “I can’t blame you. I mean, what’s not to love?”
“You’re supposed to be helping,” she cried.
“Sorry, funny face.” Donny sighed again. “I wish I had some sage words of advice, but—”
“You’ve been in love before,” she cut in. “Tell me this won’t kill me. Tell me broken hearts can heal.”
“Oh, Sammie, broken hearts do heal.” She raked in a ragged breath, daring to hope. “But they scar like a motherfucker.”
*
“Samantha…”
She came awake with a start and a curse when she felt Ozzie’s big, warm hand on her shoulder. She couldn’t believe she had fallen asleep.
“Samantha, sweetheart, I need you to come downstairs with me,” Ozzie said, his voice so smooth, so low and seductive. Too bad she’d never allow herself to be seduced by him again. Despite Donny’s assurances about broken hearts healing, she wasn’t sure hers would survive more time in Ozzie’s arms. In his bed.
“What time is it?” She rolled over, rubbing her eyes. They felt gritty.
“Twenty-hundred hours,” he told her, then put it into civilian terms. “Eight o’clock.”
“Did Washington or Carver call?” Her voice was scratchy. Her throat felt as dry as the white wine Donny liked to drink on their monthly “friend nights,” when just the two of them spent an evening in together.
“No. Not yet. But there have been developments you’re going to want to hear about.”
She sat up. Her head felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. Outside, the sun was sinking low in a tie-dyed sky. It sent golden rays through the leaded-glass window that caught Ozzie’s hair and turned the sandy strands into spun gold. At some point, he’d grabbed a shower and washed away the blood.