by Norris, Kris
She sighed, relaxing against Cannon. “So, now what?”
He smiled, and she wondered if this was the kind of dizzy feeling Ice had been asking her about. “Now, you focus on getting better, while we continue gathering as much intel as we can without drawing too much attention. As far as the Marshal Service is concerned, you’re missing. We’d like to keep it that way until we know why you were attacked. Who’s targeting you.”
“Missing? Why wouldn’t you tell…” She inhaled, more images rearranging inside her head. “What happened to Dave?”
Cannon’s jaw clenched, and he looked around the room then back at her. “Jericho.”
“What? What aren’t you telling me? Did he get hurt? Is he missing?”
He reached up, tucked some of her hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. He didn’t make it.”
“What do you mean?” She looked around at Ice and the other men standing in the doorway then back to Cannon. “He’s…dead?”
Cannon’s hand covered hers, his grip around her waist tightening. “He was killed in the explosion. They checked the DNA against what they had on file. It was a confirmed match.”
She shook her head. “No, no, that’s not right. He’s not dead.”
“Jericho…”
“No. I mean he was dead. Next to me, but…” She palmed her head. “Crap.”
“Stop trying to force it.” Ice, again. Eye level. “You need to rest. I know this is a lot to take in, but if you push too hard, you could relapse. Suffer side effects from the concussion. Please, just…rest.”
“You’re standing here telling me my partner’s dead. I can’t just lie in bed. God…”
But the tears she’d expected didn’t fall. Instead, anger burned beneath her skin as a sour feeling settled in her stomach. Something didn’t feel right, and she couldn’t shake the unnerving sensation that they’d gotten the story wrong. That there was a much greater threat than they suspected.
Cannon turned her then wrapped his arms around her. “I know this has got to be tearing you up, but you’re in no condition to fight. Not, yet. Christ, you’re lucky you’re alive. If you hadn’t shared your location—if I’d gotten there five minutes later…”
His chest heaved against hers, and she knew. Knew he was using every tactic he’d learned in the military to keep his emotions in check. That a piece of the man he’d been before the Army had beaten any form of softness out of him was bleeding through.
He drew a deep breath against her back, then his lips brushed over her cheek. “It’s not very often I get a chance to take care of my girl. In fact, I’ve never really had one, so this is a first. Close your eyes. I’ll get you something to eat in a bit. Okay? And I promise you, we’ll get whoever did this. Just not today.”
“But…”
“Strategy, Jericho. You can’t help us if you put yourself in the hospital.”
“No hospitals.” She inhaled then looked at him. “I…I don’t know why I said that.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m keeping you safe, and that means right here. With us.”
She glanced at the other men, again. They had the same steely determination in their eyes. Her resistance fled, bone-weary exhaustion taking its place. “A day. That’s all I can promise.”
“Then, we’ll start with that.”
Ice straightened. “You two stay put. I’ll get you both something to eat. Drink. And, tomorrow, we’ll talk. Okay?”
She nodded, relaxing into Cannon’s embrace as the others left, closing the door behind them.
Cannon sighed, dropping a kiss on her cheek. “I know this is killing you. I just need you to trust me—trust my team.”
She looked up at him, his expression a mix of lethal bruiser and sexy secret agent. “You’ve had that since the night in the bar. I knew you were going to change my opinion of men.”
He chuckled. “Seems only fair since you’ve changed the way I picture the future playing out. You’re dangerous, sweetheart.”
“I like the sound of that.” She stifled a yawn. How could she be tired when she’d done nothing but sleep for five days?
Another laugh. “Stubborn. Come on. Rest until Ice brings you some food. Then, you can eat and sleep some more.”
“All I do is sleep.”
“And that’s all you’re gonna keep doing until you don’t look like death warmed over.” He dropped another kiss on her earlobe, making her shiver. “I’ll stay with you.”
“Just my luck. I finally get you into bed, and all we do is sleep. Doesn’t seem fair.”
“Don’t worry. As soon as you’re up for more, you won’t be getting any sleep. Take advantage of it while you can. Because having you nearly die on me…” He sighed. “It’s put a lot of things in perspective. And, once we take care of the trouble you’re in, we’re going to have a long chat. The kind that ends with you agreeing to move in with me—where I can keep an eye on you.”
She inhaled, unable to get her mouth to close. Had he really just asked her to live with him?
“Not now. First, you get better. Just know this… I don’t do anything half-assed, and I never back down.” He looked up when Ice walked in carrying a tray of food. “Eat. Rest. Then, we go hunting, because I have big plans for the future, and we can’t make them a reality until we’ve eliminated the men threatening you.”
Chapter Twelve
Jericho Nash was going to be the death of Cannon, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. Wanted to do about it. But…he wouldn’t argue if she agreed to be a bit less stubborn.
Not even twenty-four hours since she’d woken up—truly woken—and she was sitting at the table, watching the rest of his team take their seats. A bit of color had returned to her cheeks, but she still looked weak. Had needed to stop halfway to her chair to catch her breath. He’d offered to carry her, but she’d stuck out that adorable chin of hers and had insisted she needed to do it herself. That she couldn’t waste any more time lying in bed, doing nothing.
She seemed to forget the part where she’d nearly died. Had required five units of blood just to keep from coding. That her body was still healing, even if, outwardly, her wound looked better.
She hadn’t reacted when Ice had changed her bandage—shown her the line of stitches across her lower ribs. Cannon had wanted to punch his fist through the wall. He wasn’t sure even killing the fucker who’d stabbed her would be enough. Would tame the rage at the thought of her being hurt. Being targeted. But it would be a start.
Of course, finding the people responsible wasn’t as easy as he’d hoped. Ty Brown had vanished. Simply disappeared—no doubt hidden with the help of the Macmillans’ resources. If Brown was smart, he’d be long gone. Off to some remote country with no extradition laws.
Damn good thing guys like him weren’t that smart. That they seemed to think they were untouchable. The bastard was still in town. Still on the payroll. Cannon knew it. Sensed it in the soldier part of his brain that hadn’t shut off since Jericho had sent him that SOS. That was determined to stay on high alert until he’d eliminated everyone remotely connected to her attack. Which meant he could still hunt the creep down. Show Brown what happened when he messed with the people Cannon loved.
There was no point in denying that fact, any longer. He was in love with Jericho Nash. From her untamed mass of auburn hair all the way to her dainty toes. The woman had him tied around her finger. And not with slip knots he could easy undo. Unbreakable chains guaranteed to rip out his heart if he tried to remove them. The heart she’d resurrected that night in the bar.
The only saving grace was that he wasn’t the only one. Though she hadn’t said anything, Cannon knew Jericho was feeling just as conflicted—just as invested—as he was. It had been evident in the way she’d looked at him whenever he’d woken her to check her condition—the dreamy gaze. The need mirrored in her eyes. Even with her skin still deathly white, a slight blush had colored her cheeks whenever he’d touched her or pulled her against h
im. Not to mention the fact she’d called out his name. Repeatedly. Even now, all he had to do was glance at her—smile—and her face lit up. Literally glowed. As if he’d flicked some hidden switch.
His buddies hadn’t missed any opportunity to mention it, either, the fuckers. Seemed to derive extreme pleasure from the hold she had over him. He’d have knocked them on their asses if they hadn’t put theirs on the line to keep her safe. Were willing to do anything to protect her. He just wished he didn’t feel so out of control. He had zero experience dealing with these emotions.
Danger? Not a problem. He’d faced a lifetime’s worth of that. Was intimately connected to it. There wasn’t a threat he wouldn’t face, a challenge he couldn’t overcome.
Dying? He’d made peace with that during Ranger training. When anything soft had been beaten out of him. Turned to stone then forged into steel. After going through Delta Force selection… Yeah, he’d walked out stone cold and focused. Had mastered locking away his feelings—his fears—and losing the key.
And now…
In a matter of weeks, Jericho had managed to open that box and expose everything. Reduce him to a shadow of his former self. Sure, he could tackle anything her enemies might throw his way. Could face a room—a squad—full of hitmen and thugs and come out the other side intact. He hadn’t lost an ounce of skill or determination. But when those plans involved her—when she was in the room, with him. At risk?
He lost it. Narrowed his focus to her, and only her.
Tunnel vision got good men killed. Got their teammates killed. When it came to guys like him… It made them more than dangerous. Or deadly. It made him unpredictable. And his buddies, his damn brothers, needed him to be steady. To carry out his objective as planned, not alter it because he got it inside his head she was in trouble. That he needed to take out her targets, first. Abandon everything in order to see to her safety.
At least, he wasn’t completely alone in that, either. Ice, Midnight, Rigs… They all suffered from a similar fate where their partners were concerned. Appeared just as single-minded toward the women they loved. It didn’t solve his issue—how to freaking deal with it—but there was solace in knowing they shared his insanity.
Ice stood next to Jericho, giving everyone a stern look before nodding at her. “Okay. Despite the fact you still need more time to heal, I’d be lying if I said we didn’t need more intel. Answers only you have. But…” He pointed a finger at her. “If I think you’re pushing too hard, or you’re draining yourself, I’m stopping this. And don’t even bother trying to give me the puppy-dog eyes. Unlike Cannon, I’m immune.”
Jericho glanced at Cannon and bam—that inner light that gleamed out of every pore lit up. Made him blink because… Fuck. She was too damn beautiful when she looked at him like that. As if he was the center of her world.
She smiled then focused back on Ice. “Unless it’s Harlequin. And she doesn’t have to do anything other than smile.”
Ice chuckled, gazing at the woman in question. “Didn’t take you long to figure that out.”
Jericho shrugged. “I’d be a pretty lousy marshal if I didn’t notice. And I doubt the puppy-eyes would actually work on Cannon.”
“You’re right.” Ice winked at her. “All you have to do is breathe.”
She looked at him, again. Studied his face. Cannon tried to appear unaffected. He’d been doing it for years. But damn… Her face. Beyond the beauty, beyond the light, there was lust and heat, and something else. Something deeper that tugged at him. Made him reach for her hand—take it in his. It was small and cold and perfect.
He sighed, raking his other hand through his hair. “Everyone has a weakness, sweetheart. But I can be stone cold if it involves your safety. No compromising there, so… Don’t think I’ll challenge Ice’s decision if he thinks you’re endangering your well-being.”
She snorted. “You guys do realize I’ve been taking care of myself for years, now, right?”
“And you’ve done an excellent job. But, I’m betting you didn’t have hitmen and mafia money trying to take you down. You do, now. Which brings us to why we’re here.” Cannon took a deep breath, slowly blowing it out. As much as he wanted answers, a part of him still worried she’d remember something she shouldn’t. That the amnesia was her brain’s way of protecting her from damaging events. The kind you didn’t bounce back from.
He motioned to the others. “I’ve given everyone a basic rundown. That, coupled with what you’ve been able to tell us so far, has painted a decent picture of what went down, but…”
“There’re holes.” She relaxed back in the chair. “Things are still fuzzy.”
“That’s to be expected.” Ice gave her other hand a pat. “I’m hoping that, if we walk through the last of the trip, it might jog a few of those more stubborn memories. If you’re up for it?”
“Just tell me where you want to start.”
Ice smiled. “All right. We understand you were transporting a prisoner—a guy named Ty Brown. Mafia hitman. That everything seemed to be going all right until you got back to Seattle. So, let’s jump to there. You’re in the car, turning onto I-5, but then, you ended up in the industrial district. What happened? I can’t imagine that was the intended route.”
“It was Dave. He was convinced we were being followed by a black Suburban. He damn near crashed the car swerving into the off-ramp.”
“Did it follow you?”
“No.” She eased her hand free then speared her fingers through her hair, wincing when it obviously pulled against the lump still visible on her forehead. “I’ve been doing this job long enough to know when I’m being followed. I’d been watching. There wasn’t anything suspicious about the Suburban.”
“Did you tell Dave?”
“Of course, but he said something about me being preoccupied with the text Cannon had sent. I wasn’t but… I guess it hit a nerve, so I went along with it.”
Rigs leaned forward. The man still seemed surprised that Jericho hadn’t made a scene when she’d first met him. That she’d taken his visible scars in stride and brushed them off as if they weren’t there. “Is that when you sent Cannon your location?”
Jericho groaned, palming her face as she braced her elbows on the table. “It’s against protocol. I know, but… Dave didn’t call to update our route. Was acting like a complete ass. And I got this feeling…” She looked up. “I knew it was breaking the rules, but I also knew I could trust Cannon. That, if I was wrong, he’d keep it between us.”
“Damn fucking straight.” Cannon reclaimed her hand, sandwiching it between his. “You always, and I mean always, trust your instincts. If you think something’s off, it’s because it is. And everyone at this table would rather you call in backup and be wrong, than toe the line and get yourself killed.”
“Cannon’s right.” Rigs straightened. “If you hadn’t trusted those instincts—”
“I’d be dead, too.”
Cannon grunted. “Over my dead body.”
Jericho turned to him. Smiled.
Rigs chuckled. “I’d hate to be the other guys. They don’t have a clue the caliber of enemy they’ve made. So, what happened next? How did it all fall apart?”
She stared at the table. “That’s where it gets fuzzy. I remember Dave saying something about the Suburban, again. He thought it was waiting for us.”
“But it wasn’t?” Rigs hedged.
“I swear there was nothing there. No parked cars, no people standing on the corner. Walking along the street. I searched the intersection then…”
They waited, but she just sat there, staring off.
Cannon shifted closer. “Jericho? You okay?”
She looked up, face pale, chest heaving. Her fingers clenched around his, the tremble in them impossible to miss. “He stabbed me.”
“Who?” Cannon scoffed. “Dave?”
She surged to her feet, stumbling back. Ice was at her side, looking as if he planned on catching her if she fell, but he wouldn
’t need to. Cannon wasn’t about to let her get so much as another scratch.
He shouldered in beside her. “Easy, sweetheart. Slow your breathing. Everything’s going to be okay.”
“Okay?” Her voice was strained. A full octave higher than usual. “My partner—my friend—just tried to kill me. Left me for dead in a car set to explode. How is that going to be okay?”
“Breathe. Slower.”
She closed her eyes, swayed, but he had her. Wrapped her in his arms while Ice checked her pulse. The guy frowned but backed away.
Cannon brushed his mouth across her ear. “We’ll figure it out.”
She took a few shuddering breaths. “I don’t understand. Why?”
“Sweetheart. I’m not saying I don’t believe you, but is it possible it might have been Brown who stabbed you? Maybe he incapacitated Dave while you were looking the other way then attacked you.”
Another fierce shake of her head. “It was Dave. I remember staring down, seeing him wipe the blade off on his pants before he grabbed my hair and smashed me against the dash. Then, the window. After that… I can’t be sure what happened, other than you showing up.” She glanced back at him, eyes glassy. “I remember that. You saving me.”
Fuck, his damn chest constricted at the look in her eyes—the love staring him in the face. All he’d done was show up. Track her down. And he’d had help. If he’d been on the ball, he’d have left his damn office the second she’d pinged him. Worried about the reasons and ramifications later. Those precious minutes he’d wasted…
“Thought I told you I’d always have your back. And the asshole’s lucky he’s dead.”
“Which makes no sense. Why try to kill me if he didn’t have a plan? If freeing Brown was setting Dave up to be killed?”
“We’re talking about a hitman with mafia connections. I don’t think anything Brown does has to make sense or seem justified.”
