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  She rolled her eyes. “Please. I cooperated more than I should have. I should be given a Girl Scout badge for patience.”

  Rhett snorted. “Is that what you call rolling your eyes?”

  She smirked and rocked her feet back and forth on the tile. Rhett’s humor was surely meant to distract her, but it didn’t help. She was sure that any minute the doctor would walk out to tell them Brock was dead. She rolled her lips together and scanned the hallway for the hundredth time in the last two hours.

  No one would give her any information on Brock’s status. At least one of the nurses had been kind enough to give her a pair of booties for her bare feet. She turned her stare to Rhett. “I saw you talking with one of the nurses. Did they tell you anything new?”

  He braced his ankle on his knee and nodded at her cup. “Drink and I’ll tell you.”

  She made a face and swirled the caramel-colored brew. She wasn’t much of a coffee drinker, but the confection had never repulsed her as much as it did right now. Dutifully, she raised the paper cup in his direction and took a gulp. “Now go.”

  “He’s still in critical condition but stable.”

  Dani heaved a breath and stood. “I can’t sit here anymore. I need to see him.”

  “They won’t let you do that unless you’re family . . . or his spouse.” Rhett bobbed his eyebrows. “I won’t ask for any details, but I think you and Brock are close enough that he wouldn’t mind the lie.”

  His spouse. Of course. Why hadn’t she thought of that? She combed the frayed strands of hair around her face as if doing so would help improve the utter shitshow of her appearance. “I’ll tell them I’m his mother if it gets me back there.”

  Rhett got to his feet. “I don’t think they’ll believe that.”

  She turned to the nurse’s desk and he caught her arm. “Hey.” His voice was sympathetic. All traces of humor had vanished from it. “He’s a tough guy. He’ll pull through.”

  The emotion that had been hovering in her chest since Brock was shot ascended into her throat. “How do you know?”

  He squeezed her arm and his eyes softened. “He’s got too much to live for.”

  She’d been holding it together, fighting each wave of terror that threatened to throw her over the cliff into insanity. Now, it all came crashing down. She pressed her palm to her forehead and rivers of tears washed down her cheeks.

  Rhett patted her back in an awkward hug. “Here. You’re freezing.” He lifted his jacket from the chair and held it out to her. She didn’t want the scent of any man but Brock on her, but she also couldn’t shake the chill and shock of the day’s events. And covering up her revealing attire felt appropriate.

  “The middle-aged woman with the bun and yellow shirt is really sweet,” Rhett said. “I’m sure she’ll take you to see him.”

  Lifting her chin, Dani approached the desk. Rhett had better be right. There was no way she’d take no for an answer—and causing a scene would get them both thrown out.

  “Excuse me, my husband was brought in with a gunshot wound to the head. I know your policy is immediate family only, but I’m his wife—”

  The older woman placed her hand on her chest. “Mon dieu. Of course you can see him.” She plucked a clipboard from the counter and led her down the hall. “He came to once and asked for Dani. Is that you?”

  Hope surged in her chest. “Yes! Ohmigod.” Fresh tears misted her eyes as she followed the nurse down the hall and into a room. Brock lay in a hospital bed, machines beeping all around him. His head lolled to the side and a bandage was wrapped around his forehead. She stepped closer to the bed and wrung her hands in front of her. His normally tanned complexion was almost gray. His hospital gown was tugged down on one side, revealing another large bandage, beneath his shoulder. Unease sloshed in her stomach. She stopped at the side of the bed and stared at the dark stain on the bandage above his ear. Lowering into one of the chairs at his side, she brought her hand to his.

  He didn’t respond to her touch, and his clammy palm felt nothing like the warm, strong hand that had touched her a million times. The soft whoosh of the door sounded as the nurse left.

  “B-Brock? I’m here.” She cleared her throat. He didn’t respond. Could he hear her? Would his subconscious recognize her voice? Rhett’s words replayed in her head: He’ll pull through.

  Brock was one of the strongest people she knew. But seeing him like this was shocking. She squeezed his hand.

  “It’s me, Dani. I hope you’re not in pain.” She shook her head. That was stupid. “God, of course you’re in pain. I just mean, well, I . . .” Tears spilled on her cheeks and her nose started to run. She reached for the tissue box on the table and grabbed one of the cheap, rough papers to wipe her eyes and then her nose. “I’m not going to be the strong one here, so you’ll just have to deal with my sobbing. It’s my fault you’re hurt. You never should have come to Geneva. I shouldn’t have called you. You’ve always been so dependable. Even when I couldn’t stand you, I knew I could rely on you.”

  She sniffed and rubbed her thumb over his motionless hand. “You were wrong to lie to me about the Vitali heist. Wrong to cut me out of it.” She leaned forward in her seat and rested her forearm on the bed and her chin next to his arm. “But I should have forgiven you. Especially after I was kidnapped. I just got scared, you know? Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that I love you. I need you to pull through this so we can be together. I don’t want to spend a single day without you.” She closed her eyes and pressed her lips to his knuckles.

  Fatigue weighed her head down, and she mouthed a prayer against his skin. His hand tensed. She jumped and lifted her head.

  “Brock? Are you awake?” She stood and leaned over him.

  His head turned toward her and he squinted. A smile trembled on his lips and then disappeared. “Well I was trying to sleep, but you kept talking.”

  She swatted his arm lightly and he grunted. She winced. “Sorry. You were awake that whole time?”

  “Not the whole time.” He lifted his uninjured shoulder and tugged her down on the bed. She sat next to him and took in the magnificent gleam of his hazel eyes. Even though the humor and spark had dimmed, even though exhaustion and pain had created dark pillows beneath his lids, relief—wide and great—expanded in her chest.

  He lifted her palm to his lips and kissed. “Are you okay?”

  She chortled. “You’re the one who got shot in the head.”

  His mouth slanted in a sardonic smirk. “I didn’t get shot in the head. It skimmed my head. But to be honest, when I woke up, I almost wished I hadn’t survived. Christ, I’ve never had a headache like that before.”

  “Did you speak with the doctor yet?”

  He shook his head. “No. I was out of it when he first assessed me. I remember the nurse telling me I’ve got a concussion, twelve stitches, and a damaged rotator cuff from where the bullets hit.”

  She pressed her hand to his chest and rubbed. “I’m so sorry.”

  He lifted his hand. An IV was attached to it. “Don’t be. Whatever juice they’re pumping into me is liquid gold.”

  She cringed. “Pretty sure that’s morphine.”

  He pointed a shaky finger at her. “Don’t get all judgy on me. You get shot in the head and see if you don’t take what they’re offering.”

  She laughed. The sound rolled off her tongue and the corners of her mouth ached from smiling after so many hours of fear and worry. “I can see you’re going to milk this. But in all seriousness, thanks to you, I wasn’t shot at all, let alone in the head.”

  His eyebrows rose. “What happened? The last thing I remember is shoving you into the electrical room. Everything’s blank after that.”

  She glanced at the hall and then at the steadily beeping monitor next to the bed. She should probably tell the nurses that he was awake, but on the other hand, he was clearly not in distress and she desperately needed these moments with him to calm the sea of uncertainty she’d been surfing on si
nce he was loaded into the ambulance.

  She traced her thumb over his knuckle. “Romy came down the hall. He’s the guy I . . . uh . . . let’s just say he wasn’t very happy with me.”

  Brock’s teeth flashed between his lips. “I heard about that. Didn’t you whoop his ass?”

  She sat straighter with pride. She had kicked his ass. “He needs to learn to tie knots better. When you didn’t come bursting in the room, I got worried and knew I had to get out. I told him I had to pee and hit him with the fire extinguisher when he opened the door. He fought back, but I knocked him out. Thankfully. Otherwise that could’ve ended badly.” She grinned ruefully.

  His cheeks hardened and he squeezed her hand. “Don’t ever do that again.”

  She lifted her shoulders. “I’ll try.” She skimmed the bandage on his forehead with the tip of her pinky then coasted her fingers through the hair on top of his head, well away from the wound. “I’m going to let the nurses know you’re awake. The doctor will want to see you and you need rest.” She stood but Brock didn’t release her hand. Instead, he caught her elbow and towed her onto the sheet next to him.

  She lay stiff and jerked her head toward the door. “Someone could come in.”

  His eyelids pinched together. “So? What did you tell them to get them to let you see me?”

  Heat warmed her cheeks. She shouldn’t be embarrassed. It was Brock for god’s sake. But the footing of their relationship—if she could even call it that—was unstable at best. He nudged her, waiting for an answer. She wet her lips.

  “I told them I’m your wife.” The words came out small and way too hesitant to sound aloof.

  The light caught his eyes, and for the first time since he opened them, they sparked with life. “Well then. That makes it easy.”

  She lifted her lip in confusion. “Makes what easy? If you think we’re getting freaky on this hospital bed, you’ve got another thing coming.”

  He tilted his head back and belted out a laugh. “Honey, I won’t be getting freaky for a while with this damn head injury. Unless you go on top. Actually . . .” He shook his head. “Never mind. I don’t need to get turned on right now.”

  Despite his condition and everything that had happened recently, her blood heated. She rubbed her tongue along the inside of her cheek and tried to focus on what he’d said before that. “So then what did you mean?”

  He folded his good arm around her shoulders and pressed her head to his chest with his other hand. The rhythm of his heart beat through the hospital gown and his stubble scraped against her temple. She closed her eyes and the scent of sterile gauze, bleach, and blood hit her face. She turned her face into his neck until his aroma—warm and heady with a faint tint of masculine sweat—surrounded her.

  “I just—”

  A nurse bustled into the room. “Ah, Mr. Wyler. I’m so glad to see you’re awake. The doctor’s here to see you.”

  * * *

  Rhett’s number lit the screen and Brock lunged for his phone, which sat on his bathroom counter. His head pounded with the movement. He leaned his back against the sink to slow the vertigo. Too-fast movements had been bringing it on. He swiped to answer, pressed the device to his ear, and wrapped a towel around his waist.

  “Yeah?” He and Dani had arrived in San Diego two days ago. The Parisian doctors hadn’t been pleased to release him after only four days, but he desperately needed to be home. Alone. With Dani.

  “Hey, how you holding up?” Rhett’s familiar voice rang through the speaker and the bathroom slowly stopped spinning, but Brock’s muscles remained shaky. He’d been waiting on pins and needles to hear from Rhett about the details of the investigation.

  “Good. I’m still a little weak and wobbly but improving—slowly. How’re things on your end?”

  “Happy as a pig in shit to be back home. Don’t get me wrong, the city was beautiful, but I’ve never spent such long days going over the most minute details.”

  “And?”

  Rhett laughed. “Sorry to keep you in the dark. It’s a delicate case and I probably shouldn’t tell you anything yet, but I know you guys have a right to know.”

  “I appreciate it. To be honest, Dani isn’t sleeping well. She could really use some reassurance that the world is safe.” The last part came out more harshly than he’d intended.

  “All’s well in that department. Dr. Lafontaine was arrested. Actually, a civilian videotaped her abducting you. That was enough for us to move in quickly, confiscate her surveillance cameras, computers, and hard drives, and place her under arrest.”

  “Man, I just don’t understand how she got involved.”

  “Turns out she and Giles were together romantically. Or at least they were before she arranged to kill him. We have her on surveillance implying that one of her guards admitted to injecting Giles with a substance that would make it appear as if he’d had a heart attack.”

  “She was involved with the Peace Makers?”

  “Yup. She and Giles were pretty high up in the group. We’re still pulling that onion apart, and it seems there are a lot of players, including that Interpol agent, Rudolph James. He was hired by Dr. Lafontaine to kill Dani and retrieve the flash drive. With his access to Interpol’s facial recognition technology, he had no issues finding her.”

  “And Ubrigg?”

  Rhett grunted. “Romy Brissitt sang like a canary while he was drugged up on morphine. He told the Parisian police that Ubrigg hired him and the other security guard, Igor something, to find Dani and the stolen formula. He confessed to the shooting as well and named a couple of other guys on Ubrigg’s payroll, so he’ll be doing time for that.”

  Brock whistled. “Jesus. Sounds like a shitshow. Was there any more talk about Dani stealing the drive in the first place?”

  Rhett made a noncommittal sound. “Yes and no. The Parisian detective hung on that like a dog with a bone. But she didn’t hand off the formula to the Peace Makers, and after we investigated her messages to and from Sven, we knew for certain she wasn’t directly involved with the group. And we knew that she’d been lied to. And, turns out Ubrigg didn’t have proper clearance to create the formula to begin with, so in a round about way it’s a good thing Dani took it.”

  Relief uncoiled in his abdomen. “Thank god.”

  “As shitty as it was, it sure as hell helped that Dr. Lafontaine kidnapped you and we could pin this on the real terrorists.”

  “What happened with the formula?”

  “The Center for Disease Control confiscated it.”

  A sound in the doorway snapped his attention to Dani. She lifted her chin in question, her hip propped against the door. He mouthed Rhett’s name and her skin paled. He crossed the bathroom and pulled her into his side, giving her a reassuring squeeze.

  “Thanks for the update. Dani will be relieved to hear the news,” he said, more for her benefit than Rhett’s.

  “Take it easy and say hi to Dani for me.” They disconnected and Brock placed his phone back on the counter.

  “What did he say?” Dani pressed her belly to his groin and circled her arms around his waist. Her usually smiling lips were pulled down into an uneasy frown. He drifted his hands down her bare arms and filled her in on Rhett’s findings.

  The fearful glint in her eyes faded and she dropped her forehead to his chest. “I can’t believe how badly I needed to hear that. I hope Dr. Lafontaine rots in jail for what she did to you and her assistant’s friend.”

  “Oh, I don’t think she’ll see the light of day for a long time. Terrorism isn’t taken lightly.”

  She brushed her lips over his chest and batted her eyelashes at him. “So, where do we go from here?”

  He squinted and glanced at the ceiling, feigning uncertainty. “Well, I was thinking we could go to the bed.” He lowered his lips to hers. Her mouth responded with fire and her body sprang to attention in his arms. He groaned as her tongue danced over his.

  She pulled away and he nipped her lip. “Don’t teas
e me. You know I’ll pay you back.”

  She laughed. “Easy, cowboy. You need to heal.”

  “Sex is the best medicine.”

  “Mmm. That it is. But I need some answers from you first.”

  “About?” He didn’t hide the hesitancy that crept up the back of his throat.

  “Us. About us.” Her voice fell low on the second sentence and his chest fluttered at the reluctance.

  He rocked her in his arms and mulled over his words. She raised her eyebrows expectantly. “I know you’ve been staying here so you can take care of me, but having you here just feels right. Stay. We’ll figure everything else out later.”

  Her eyes shone, and she tucked her bottom lip under her front teeth. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. If you want, I mean.”

  “I want nothing more.” She looked away and then back at his face. “What about your operation? The team you have hijacking the trucks of goods?”

  “I called it off today. I gave the guys the things I have locked in storage, so we could part ways peacefully.” He shrugged. “I’m officially your honest, average Joe.”

  She tossed back her hair and grinned. God, he loved seeing that smile. Carefree, easy . . . Christ, he’d known her since he was sixteen and he’d never seen that kind of serenity on her face. Once, he’d questioned if he deserved someone like Dani. But now, knowing he could light that spark in her eyes, hell yeah, he did. They were perfect for each other.

  “I wouldn’t say you’re an average Joe. You’ve got a lot of work ahead of you creating your fitness-apparel line.”

  “Luckily I’ve got enough money to keep us afloat for a while. At least until your event-planning business takes off.” He winked and she bounced on her toes.

  “Oh, I forgot! The reason I came in here is to tell you I just got my first contract. Rhett’s call derailed me.”

  He hugged her and pressed a kiss to her hair. “Congratulations, honey. We’ll order takeout and celebrate tonight.”

  She squeezed his waist. “I love you.”

  His heart expanded and he stroked the fine hairs away from her cheeks. Hearing those words and having the freedom to say them to her whenever he wanted—he’d never felt so liberated. “I love you too, babe. More than you’ll ever know.”