Another shot and the asphalt exploded near Sara’s head and she whimpered, gurgling. “I’m sorry, Wyatt. I’m so sorry.”
Wyatt rasped something unintelligible and pleaded with his eyes at Evan then back at Sara.
“What do you want me to do?” Evan was at a loss. “Kill her?”
Wyatt shook his head.
“Shit. You want me to save her.”
Wyatt nodded.
Aw fuck. Fuck no. But how could he deny his brother the chance of being with someone that made him feel the way Grace made Evan feel?
“Fuck!” Evan growled. “Grace. Let me take over. Please help Sara. Wyatt wants you too.”
Grace looked distraught at letting Wyatt go, but she did it as soon as Evan’s hands replaced hers. He tried not to think about the wrong feeling of torn flesh under his touch, and focused on Grace crouching low as she went to Sara, now only a meter away. A long strip of dark red had stained the road behind her from where she’d dragged her wounded body.
“Sara,” Grace said. “Move your hand. I need to see the bullet wound.”
Red liquid came out of Sara’s mouth, and then she stretched toward Wyatt with a bloody hand, exposing the glistening mess at her chest. “Wyatt. I didn’t tell them.”
Grace’s face grew ashen as she turned and locked eyes with Evan. She’s done for.
“Tell us what?” Evan asked.
“About the mating bond.”
Wyatt couldn’t speak but he understood her. If Sara had held back that vital piece of information, it was a point for Evan’s side of the war. The Syndicate wouldn’t know about Grace’s importance to him, not the truth anyway. A tear sprung from Wyatt’s eye and then he reached out for Sara. That right there was the hope Evan wanted to see back in the world, in his family, in his city. It was the kind of hope he recognized in Grace’s eyes every time they met. It was why he loved her.
“Wyatt,” Sara sobbed. “Please remember me.”
“There!” Liza shouted from where she stood in front of the blocked traffic and pointed down the road on the empty freeway lanes ahead.
In the distance, and barely discernible to the naked eye, was a single solitary car with the front door opened wide. Evan squinted. Behind the shelter of the door, a woman with white, long hair whipping in the wind sighted them through her rifle.
Greed picked up Wyatt’s fallen Ducati motorbike. Pride started running toward the woman. He unclipped his gun from his holster, aimed and fired.
Sparks flew from the door of the car, but the woman didn’t move. She didn’t even flinch.
For a moment, Evan thought she would shoot his brothers—one running on foot, the other speeding toward her on the bike—but then moved her rifle to where Grace was with Sara.
Time slowed.
Everything amplified.
Evan heard the sound of his own screaming, but no gun went off. There was no need. Sara was dead, and the white-haired woman calmly returned to the safety of her car, reversed, spun, and drove down the freeway, escaping.
Evan breathed again.
Liza pressed her finger to her ear, listening on the communication device that connected her to the rest of the team. Greed and Pride returned to them. All three ran to Wyatt.
“The ambulance won’t get through this traffic,” Pride said through the purple scarf covering his mouth. “But the Escalade can get out. Can we move him?” he asked Grace who’d now come back to them.
“Let me see, Evan.” She lifted his hand gingerly. A fresh, sluggish pump of blood welled and Wyatt’s eyes rolled back in his head. She clapped her hand back on it. “I don’t think it’s his carotid, otherwise he’d be dead, speedy healing or not. But he needs to be intubated. There could be vertebrae damage. He’ll need an infusion. We need a neck brace and stretcher and—”
“We have no choice,” Pride snapped. “Greed, Evan, help me lift him into the back of the Escalade. Take him back to HQ.”
“No, he needs a hospital,” Grace insisted.
“Negative,” Pride said.
“I’m the doctor,” Grace shouted. “Not you.”
“You’re a surgeon, correct?”
“Yes. I mean, I was. I haven’t operated in years, and no, I’m not a throat surgeon. Cardiothoracic is a completely different area of discipline. And we’d need an anesthetist, and so much more.”
“Doesn’t matter. We’ve got the resources at HQ. We can talk you through what you need to know.”
Without waiting for Grace’s approval, Pride and Greed lifted Wyatt between them. Grace had to rush along to keep her hand on his throat and shifted into the back seat with them. She ended up squashed on one side with Wyatt’s head lying prone against the seat, head in her lap.
When Evan looked back to Sara, it was then he saw what Wyatt left behind—a bloody hand print on the asphalt, stretched out, reaching for the body of his ex-fiancé.
Evan slipped into the driver side and planted his foot on the accelerator.
“Evan!” Grace exclaimed as the car took off. “I can’t do this.”
“Yes you can. You’re an excellent surgeon, you just need some faith in yourself. I know you can do it. How is he?” Evan glanced in the rear view. The top of Grace’s head was visible as she looked down at Wyatt.
“He’s stable. He shouldn’t be, but he is.” Grace’s head lifted, and their eyes clashed in the mirror.
They stared at each other. Seconds ticked by. There was so much Evan wanted to say.
“You came back,” he said. Despite the despicable thing he did.
“I did,” she replied. “You can’t get rid of me that easily, Evan.”
A warmth flooded his heart as he fought to keep his gaze ahead.
He could feel her presence in the back seat as she sat there silent. All he heard was Wyatt’s steady, raspy breath, and the sound of the car driving over bumps in the road.
“You said you would never leave me, Evan, and you did.”
He sighed. “I know.”
“Don’t do it again.”
Their eyes met in the rearview. “Never.”
“Good.” She went quiet and then murmured. “We really need to get him to the hospital. I’m not comfortable with this.”
Perhaps Wyatt squeezed her hand, or something, Evan couldn’t see, but Grace’s next words were directed at the man lying with his head in her lap. “But, you realize that if I make a mistake, you could heal wrong. I could do more damage than good. You might never speak again.”
Wyatt must have confirmed his wishes because she sighed. “Okay. If it’s what you want, I’ll do my best.”
Thirty-Seven
Upon returning from the field, Griffin had showered and dressed into something more appropriate. The leather battle gear irritated him. Too many zips, pockets and jangly bits, all of which had the tendency to distract him to tears. He’d asked Parker many times to make a suit more streamlined and custom-built to his body and specific needs, but with everything going on lately, it had been low priority.
Now it might not even be on the radar.
Griffin joined the rest of his family as they waited in the corridor outside the surgery in the basement headquarters of Lazarus House. Usually saved for minor stitches and scrapes, the surgery had a single recliner chair, surgical instruments and various medical equipment Parker had purchased.
This past week threw Griffin’s carefully formulated equilibrium into chaos. So much that he struggled to keep up. It felt like his training all over again. He was the fourth in the family to enter the seven-year program, and he almost didn’t come out of it alive. The noise, the unpredictability, and the violence messed with his brain. Not to mention the face-shouting from the Marine’s worst drill sergeant. The unwanted physical contact. Never inappropriate, just… unexpected. The lessons had been hard to learn, but once they were in his brain, they stayed.
Now, he did everything in his power to control the narrative, even if that meant letting people suffer because he refused
Greed’s calling once in a while. Through trial and error, he’d calculated the ratio greed and generosity had on his equilibrium, and he had a list of events he could refer to if he needed to push his balance back to equal.
Painful, but necessary. And effective.
“How’s he going?” A hand clapped on Griffin’s shoulder and he jolted. It was Tony. Just arrived and red faced. His short brown hair was a mess, and there were broken capillaries at the edge of his nostrils. Who did Tony think he fooled? It was obvious he had a substance abuse problem.
Griffin shook his head and shirked away from his brother’s touch.
“Sorry,” Tony added with a quick glance where his hand had been on Griffin’s shoulder.
“It’s fine.” Griffin grit his teeth then forced himself to relax and nodded at the viewing window to the surgery. “He’s been in there for a few hours. Parker’s instructing Grace about the procedure. She’s not an ENT surgeon, but cardiothoracic. Inappropriate if you ask me, but Wyatt didn’t want to go to the hospital, and neither did Parker. Apparently her lack of throat experience is a risk they’re willing to factor. Evan is assisting and Parker donated the blood. Wyatt will live, but he might not speak again. That part is unclear.”
“Shit.” Tony wiped his nose.
Griffin frowned at him. “We called you. Where were you?”
“On set. Where else?”
“You’re on set a lot.”
“I’m an actor, Griff.”
That wasn’t what he meant, and Tony knew it. But, who was Griffin to judge? There were more important things to focus on. Like Wyatt. Like Sara. The people who shot her and her supposed rescuers. Killed them dead in the street, in full view of the gathered crowd filming on their camera phones. Griffin narrowed his eyes. He’d chased down the white haired woman, but she’d gotten away and now an unsettled feeling churned in his gut.
The lab results from Grace’s poisoned smoothie had come in and the toxin was a standard type that only harmed when ingested, so she was safe. At least that part had gone well for them.
Movement through the surgical window had everyone in the corridor on edge.
Grace stitched up Wyatt’s neck wound, hands confidently moving the needle and thread in and out of his flesh until finished. She put her tools down and turned to Evan, eyes smiling over the surgical face mask. He tugged the doctor’s mask off and kissed her. In front of everyone.
Griffin’s feet shifted as he watched, fascinated. They were in love.
When they were done, Parker grinned and patted her on the back affectionately. Wyatt was still asleep, but he looked stable.
Griffin glanced back at Evan. There had been a marked difference in his brother’s demeanor since getting involved with the doctor. He had more confidence, persistence and less anger. He smiled more. She had been a positive influence on him, that was clear, and it went against everything Griffin knew to be true about the world.
You couldn’t get better without practice—it was a rule that had been drummed into them during combat training. Suffice to say, if the former was true, then you don’t magically balance your inner turmoil by being in a relationship with someone. It wasn’t logical.
A glance down at his itching wrist tattoo showed him it was dangerously on the light side from his expedition to rescue Evan from Sara. Too much light was just as bad as too much dark. An excess or absence of sin in his blood had a way of bringing emotions out that he couldn’t control, and with their superior strength and abilities, that was dangerous.
He could see why their biological mother would lock the new abilities away until they found their balance. That much power in an unstable mind could be catastrophic, especially now Evan’s cells were mutating and growing stronger.
Griffin watched from a distance while Evan, Grace and Parker came out of the surgery to speak with the family. Seeing the way they all touched and hugged each other, and not wanting any part of it, was how Griffin knew he’d never find someone like Evan did.
He was too different. Too separate. He wouldn’t know the first thing about being in a relationship.
But that was okay. He didn’t need anyone. He managed fine on his own.
Griffin thanked the doctor for her help and then left his family to commit an act of greed.
Thirty-Eight
Grace juggled the items in her hand and knocked on the door to Evan’s Lazarus House apartment. After the threat against their family was revealed, Evan agreed it was best to move back into the complex. His brother Tony had also moved back, begrudgingly. They were finally a family unit again, and it was all thanks to Evan and his persistence. That persistence had also worn down Grace when he’d asked her to move in with him. To be honest, it hadn’t taken that long. When given the choice of staying in her lonely apartment with wilting plants, or waking up next to the man she loved, there was no contest.
It had been just under a week since she’d stitched up Wyatt’s neck, and the memory still gave her the chills. Not because she’d been afraid, or because of what she’d seen, but because it was the first time she’d operated since her accident. For so many reason’s she’d put off going back to surgery, but now all of them seemed silly. Her anxiety never reared its ugly head, and despite the scarring in her hands, her fine motor skills were fine. In fact, they were better than fine. They were great! She was great.
She knocked again. Where was he?
It was almost dinner time and Grace had gone straight from the hospital to her old apartment then immediately here. Her stomach grumbled in protest. The door opened and there stood Evan: bare sculpted torso with a towel wrapped tightly around his hips, just like it had that first time they’d made love. Water dripped from his hair to his naked chest, delineating all the hard angles and planes in a way that captured Grace’s avid attention.
Um. What was she saying? Thinking. She hadn’t been speaking. Oh my. His abs bunched as he held his breath as enraptured with her as she was with him.
“Hey, Doc.” He grinned and took the small box in her arms. “Is that the last box from your place?”
She nodded dumbly.
“You should have told me you were going over. I would have come with you.”
“It’s okay. Was just a little box. Also, I wanted to pick up this.” She pulled a small frame from inside the carton, wrapped in brown craft paper.
“What is it?”
“Oh, you’ll just have to open it and see.”
He glanced over her shoulder to the only other door in the corridor. It was closed and belonged to Sloan’s apartment. A cheeky glint flashed in his eyes as he pulled Grace inside and shut the door behind them. He lowered his lips to her ear. “Maybe I’ll open you up instead.”
And then he kissed her. It started as a small, reverent peck on the lips. A Welcome home, honey type of kiss. But after one taste, his gaze turned devilish, and he honed back in on her mouth, pushing inside with his tongue, and turning hot, hard and heavy. It had been a long day and Grace had missed him every minute. A moan escaped her lips, and she melted into him, so glad she came home to this every night.
“I missed you,” he said, peppering kisses on her lips again.
“I was just thinking the same thing.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, smiling as she caught him darting a glance to the side where her gift sat propped against the wall.
“So… what’s this?” He eventually pulled away, curiosity having gotten the better of him. Two-seconds later and his big hands ripped the paper to reveal the glass picture frame within. He held it out in front of him, staring intently.
Grace bit her lip. “Do you like it?”
“It’s you and me. Of course I love it. It’s the sketch I did at your place the first time we—ah.” He blushed as he took in the drawing of the close-up of two of them embracing, eyes closed, on a bed covered with chevron patterned sheets, and looking very postcoitally satisfied.
“I thought you could start a new gallery wall. Fill it with happy memories this
time.”
“It’s perfect. I’ll put it near the photo of you and your parents,” he said.
Her hand covered her heart. “You put my picture up?”
“Your family is my family.”
A warm feeling spread from her hand to the rest of her body. “I love you so much.”
“I love you more.” He gently put down the frame and leaned it against the wall. “That’s why I got you something too. I’m surprised you haven’t noticed it.”
She lifted her brows.
He pointed at his heart.
“Oh,” she gasped. “A new tattoo.”
It said Grace.
“You know the saying ‘Envy eats nothing but its own heart?’ Well… not anymore. I have you to protect it.”
“Oh, Evan.” She teared up. “I don’t know what to say.”
His eyes locked onto hers. She knew what his look meant and his intention shot a jolt of desire up her spine. Her heart beat fast. Her breath shook.
She had to say something to break the silence. “So… I changed the sheets this morning. Did you notice?”
“I did,” he smirked. “Chevron patterned.” He darted a glance at the picture of them, then back to her. The fire in his eyes burned brighter with every step he took closer. He pointed to his room. “Bed. Now.”
“But we have to go down to dinner with your family.”
“Dinner can wait. I’ll only take a couple of minutes.”
She squealed as he launched toward her, herding her into the bedroom where they made sure the couple of minutes became more and the only reason they left the comfort of their chevron sheets was the phone call from his sister Liza telling them to get their ass into gear and get down to Heaven before the kitchen closed.
Evan managed to tear himself away from precious alone time with his girl and dressed into something dinner appropriate: black jeans and T-shirt. With his tatts, he looked like a thug, but who cared. Not Grace. She loved it. Since she’d requested to put herself back on the surgical rotation, and he’d been out patrolling again, they’d had to snatch rare moments together. She had some hoops to jump through. Re-certification requirements. He fought crime and needed more training with his power. He’d much rather stay in bed with her, but this dinner was important and immediately after it, he was hitting the streets as Envy. More than electricity buzzed in his veins.
Envy (The Deadly Seven Book 1) Page 28
