by Tara Wyatt
“I know,” said Donna, patting Alexa’s hand. “I saw the way you watched him fight.”
“This is my fault.” Guilt weighed down on her. She was the one who’d involved him in her fucked-up situation in the first place.
“No, it’s not,” said Sean, crouching down in front of her. “He was doing his job, and he was protecting the woman he loves. It’s what any of us would do.”
Colt looked at Taylor and nodded solemnly, and Mark kissed Donna’s temple. Natalie sipped her coffee, staring down at the floor. Ian and Chris paced. The clock ticked.
“I’ve seen guys survive a lot worse,” said Colt. “He’ll pull through.”
“He will,” said Taylor.
“He will,” said Sierra.
Alexa nodded, and her heart vaulted in her chest when one of the surgeons stepped into the waiting room. He pulled the mask from his face, and she felt a little light-headed when he smiled.
“We were able to repair the damage to his lungs without having to remove the lower left lobe, which was badly damaged. We removed the bullet and all fragments and were able to stabilize him with the help of a blood transfusion. He’s in recovery now, and still sedated. He’s on a ventilator, and we’ve left the chest tube in place for the time being to evacuate any air and residual blood that may accumulate. We’ve got him on an antibiotic drip and a heavy dose of pain meds. The next twenty-four to thirty-six hours are critical, but I’m cautiously optimistic.”
Zack’s mom ran forward and hugged the surgeon. “Thank you. Thank you,” she said, and he patted her back. “When can we take him home?”
“Barring any complications, we’ll likely keep him for a week.”
“Will he make a full recovery?” asked Zack’s dad.
The doctor nodded. “Again, barring any complications, with physical therapy and hard work, he should be back to normal in a few months.”
Alexa started to shake, overwhelmed with relief.
* * *
Zack opened his eyes, and for a second everything was blurry. He blinked, trying to clear his vision, trying to figure out where he was. Everything ached, from his shoulders to his hips, and he felt as though his limbs weighed a thousand pounds each. He blinked again, and the hospital room came into focus.
The curtains were open, revealing the night sky, and he wondered how long he’d been here. He closed his eyes again, trying to remember.
The car chase. The shoot-out. The gun leveled at Alexa. His heart rate picked up, the beeps from the monitor coming faster than before, and he tried to sit up. An intense wave of pain rocked him, and he looked down. A tube emerged from the side of his chest, just under his left pec, and more tubes came from his arm. He moved the fabric of the hospital gown aside and traced his fingers over the large gauze pad covering a hefty portion of the left side of his chest.
He remembered shoving Alexa out of the way, the bang of the gun going off, the searing pain burning through him, and then not much of anything. Flashes here and there, but nothing concrete. Carefully, he pulled himself up to a sitting position, his eyes scanning the empty room, quiet except for the machines surrounding his bed.
What if he hadn’t saved her? The thought sent panic spiraling through him, and he had to force himself to calm down because it fucking hurt to take deep breaths. Everything hurt, but the pain would be nothing compared to the knowledge that he’d failed to protect her.
The door opened, and Alexa stepped inside, a Styrofoam cup in one hand and her phone in the other. She didn’t look at him as she entered, her attention on her phone. A few scrapes lined her arms and her face, but she looked otherwise uninjured.
Joy radiated through him like sunshine, and he suddenly didn’t give a shit about the pain in his chest anymore. She was alive, and safe. That was all that mattered.
“Hey, princess,” he said, his voice rusty. Her head jerked up, and she dropped her cup. Brown liquid splattered on the floor, and the scent of coffee filled the room, chasing away the sterile, medicinal smell.
“Oh my God,” she whispered, and ran to the bed to throw her arms around his neck. “Oh my God, Zack. I was so scared.”
He could feel her shaking, and even though it hurt, he managed to wrap his right arm around her. “Nothing to be scared of, sweetheart. I told you I’d protect you.”
She cried harder, and he swallowed over the lump forming in his own throat.
“I thought I was going to lose you.” She pulled back, settling on the edge of the bed. Raising a trembling hand, she cupped his face. “You saved my life. You got shot, and it’s my fault. I’m so grateful, and I’m so sorry. God, Zack, I’m sorry.”
He felt his stubble rasp against her palm, and he knew he’d been out for a day or two based on the growth. “None of this is your fault.” He tipped her chin up, and she met his eyes. “I love you, and I’m glad I was able to keep you safe. I got shot because I was protecting you, and I’d do it again.”
The corner of her mouth turned up, a hint of a smile. “You’d better fucking not.”
He laughed and then winced, pain dancing across his ribs. “What happened? Tell me.”
She sighed and took one of his hands in hers. “My father tried to shoot me, and you pushed me aside and got hit. I…” She bit her lip. “I picked up your gun, and I shot him. Twice. He’s dead.”
“Oh God, princess, I’m sorry.” He carefully settled her against his right side and stroked her hair. “I’m so sorry it came to that.”
“Me too, but I did what I had to do. For you. For us.”
His arm tightened around her and she continued. “After I shot him, Natalie radioed for help, and Ian saved your life. He put a tube in your chest because you couldn’t breathe properly, right there in the middle of the highway. It was pretty badass.”
Zack glanced down and gave his head a slow shake. “Holy shit. How long have I been here?”
She glanced at her phone. “Almost three days. We’re in Bakersfield. You were airlifted here and had surgery to remove the bullet and repair your lung. I think they’re hoping to take your chest tube out tomorrow. They should let you go home in a couple of days.”
“Come here,” he said, and kissed her softly and gently, just needing to feel the warmth of her lips on his.
She laid her forehead against his. “Thank you for saving me,” she whispered.
He winced again as he raised his hand and stroked her hair. “Anytime, princess.”
“The doctor said you have a lot of physical therapy ahead of you. I don’t know what that means for training and fighting, or for your contract.”
“It doesn’t matter, because without you none of that means anything. You’re what matters, and you’re safe. That’s all I need.”
“I love you so much. So much,” she said, nestling her face into his neck.
“I love you too, Alexa.”
She sighed and snuggled against his good side, and they fell asleep, safe and whole.
Epilogue
Six months later
Alexa arched her back up off the bed and moaned, her hands pinned above her head, her orgasm shimmering around her. Zack circled his hips, fucking her exactly the way she loved and sending her over the edge. Her hips bucked and jerked, and she called out his name, so loud that the neighbors could probably hear them. He kissed a path down her neck, and after a few more hard, deep thrusts, he buried himself inside her, panting her name.
He let go of her wrists, and she slid her arms around his shoulders, pulling him close and kissing him, her legs still around his hips. He stayed hard inside her, and he flexed his hips. Her muscles clenched around him in response, and he deepened the kiss.
“Aha! Hahaha!” His laugh was loud and high pitched, and he squirmed slightly above her. “Someone’s licking my toes.”
She laughed and pushed up onto her elbows. Sure enough, Schroeder, the black-and-tan dachshund they’d adopted a month ago, stood at the foot of the bed, poking his head up over the edge like the world’s
cutest prairie dog.
“Hey, puppy,” she cooed, and he gave an excited little whine. She lay back down and pushed her hair out of her eyes. “We’ll have to save round two for later. I think someone needs a walk.”
Zack kissed her once more and then pulled away, moving to the edge of the bed to pull on his jeans. She came up behind him and kissed the Japanese characters on his back. Honor. Loyalty. Bravery. Strength.
He’d inked those values onto his skin, and she watched him live by them every single day. She reached forward and traced her fingers over the scars, one from the bullet wound, the other where Ian had saved his life.
She still wasn’t sure what she’d done to deserve him, this amazing, selfless, gorgeous man. But she knew she never, ever wanted to let him go, and so she tried to be worthy of him, every single day.
He gently pulled her hand away from his scars and raised it to his mouth to kiss her fingertips. He stood and then pulled a shirt on, moving to the window. Huge fluffy white flakes fell from the gray Montreal sky.
“Hey, look, princess,” he said, and she rose from the bed and pulled her sweater and jeans on. He tucked her against him as they watched the very first snowflakes of the winter fall. They’d moved here in September, once Zack had finished his therapy and been given the go-ahead to ease back into training. They’d both been ready for a change of scenery, so when he’d been offered the chance to train at one of the top gyms in North America, they’d jumped at the chance to start fresh somewhere new.
Schroeder barked, and they both smiled. “Okay, okay,” she said. “We’re coming.” He scampered toward the front door of their apartment, tail wagging so fast that his entire back end moved with it. As Zack tugged on his boots, she retrieved Schroeder’s leash from the hook by the front door, and he danced in a circle. She pulled her coat on, waiting while Zack went back into the bedroom to get his phone. When he came back, he pulled her against him and kissed her, sweetly and gently. He kissed the tip of her nose, her temple, her forehead, and then opened the door. Cold, damp air swirled in around them, and she stepped outside, awestruck by the simple beauty of the falling flakes. For several moments they stood on the front stoop of their walk-up, watching as the snow drifted lazily from the sky. Even though their street was a busy one, there was something peaceful about the snow.
“You want to go up to the lookout?” he asked, referring to one of her favorite spots in their new city, and she nodded. She slipped her hand into his, and they started off, Schroeder trotting happily beside them. Taking their time, snowflakes falling prettily around them, they walked down Sherbrooke to Peel and then into Mount Royal Park.
“How was class today?” he asked as they walked, their breath puffing out in little white clouds.
She smiled. “Good. I’m nervous, but I think I’m ready for exams.”
“You’re gonna kill it, princess. You’ve been working so hard.”
She’d enrolled at McGill University and was taking courses in anthropology, psychology, and communications while she figured out what she wanted to major in. It was everything she’d hoped it would be, and while she’d endured the curious stares of her classmates for the first couple of weeks, everyone seemed to have accepted her as just another student now.
“You’ve been working hard too,” she said, and stretched up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “I’m proud of you.”
He smiled. “It feels good to get back in there again.”
After being shot, he’d spoken with a representative from the UFC, and the organization had left the offer on the table, waiting for him when he was ready. She’d been there, right beside him, when he’d signed the contract last month, and she knew he was hoping to book his first fight by summer. She knew that he missed being a bodyguard sometimes, but it was a small sacrifice to make to chase his dreams. And she was happy to cheer him on every step of the way.
They reached the lookout, and she sighed happily. It was a flat, open area that provided a breathtakingly beautiful view of the Montreal skyline. A fine dusting of snow sat on top of the concrete railing, and she trailed her gloved fingers through it, watching the flakes scatter like fairy dust. Schroeder sniffed at the snow and then sneezed, a few white flakes still clinging to his little black nose.
The Montreal skyline twinkled in the falling dusk, and the park’s lights came on, including the colorful Christmas lights strung through the bare branches of the trees. Dozens of people milled about, couples and families and people walking dogs. A gust of wind swirled the snow around them.
“Hey, aren’t you Alexa Fairfax?” asked a man who’d approached them.
She plastered a smile onto her face. “Yeah, I am.”
“Oh, wow. Can I get a picture with you?”
She nodded and rolled her eyes at Zack when the man wasn’t looking. The story of the Golden Brotherhood, her father’s death, and her mother’s imprisonment had been huge news, and she’d spent more time in the spotlight in the months following last summer’s events than she ever had during her career as an actress. Her mother had been devastated by Jonathan’s death, and had vowed never to speak to Alexa again, which, frankly, suited Alexa just fine. She was ready to put that part of her life behind her and move forward without the darkness of her family hanging over her. She’d found a new family with Zack and the De Lucas, who were making the trek to Montreal in a couple of weeks so they could all spend Christmas together. Sierra, Sean, Taylor, and Colt were all coming up for New Year’s Eve. She loved her new life, but missed her friends, and was looking forward to seeing them.
Once the man was satisfied with the selfie he’d taken, she took Schroeder’s leash back from Zack. “You know, some days I’m really sick of being Alexa Fairfax.”
He smiled, and something about the gleam in his eye sent her heart racing. “Mmm. Maybe I can help with that.”
“What do you…” But the rest of her question died on her lips as he pulled a velvet box from the pocket of his coat. He flipped it open, revealing a simple round-cut diamond ring. Beautiful and perfect, just like the snowflakes falling around them.
“I think Alexa De Luca has a nice ring to it, don’t you?” he asked, and her heart flew into her throat, fluttering madly.
“Are you asking me…” Once again she couldn’t finish her question. Her eyes were stinging, her throat clogging, and her heart was trying to escape her body. Probably to fly into his waiting hands.
He sank to one knee, the ring box still extended in one hand. “Six months ago today, I kissed you for the first time, and I knew right then that I loved you. I couldn’t remember what it was like to not have you in my life, couldn’t understand how I’d lived without you. I don’t ever want to find out.” He pulled the ring free and held it clasped between his thumb and his forefinger. “I bought this the week we moved here. I was going to wait for Christmas Eve, but screw it.” He dropped the ring box and took her shaking hand. “Alexa Elizabeth Fairfax”—he looked up and held her eyes with his—“will you marry me?”
She blinked rapidly, tears slipping free as her heart beat a happy, fluttering rhythm in her chest. God, her world made so much sense with him in it, made sense in a way it never had without him. She nodded, warmth radiating through her despite the snow falling around them. “Yes,” she whispered.
He stood, and she threw her arms around him, kissing him. He kissed her back, and she could taste the promised happiness of the next sixty years on his lips. Breaking the kiss, she tore at her gloves impatiently, juggling them and Schroeder’s leash, wanting the ring on her finger.
“There’s an inscription,” he said, and she took it in her trembling fingers, tilting it to see the words.
Yours. Mine. Ours. Us.
She slipped it on and repeated the words, kissing him after each one. “Yours. Mine. Ours. Us.”
He pulled her tight against him and kissed her temple. “Always, princess.”
When her home is vandalized, Hollywood star Sierra Blake knows it’s time to brin
g in the experts. But from the moment she sets eyes on her indecently sexy new bodyguard, Sierra’s thoughts are anything but professional…
An excerpt from Necessary Risk follows.
Chapter 1
Sierra Blake glanced up at the bank of lights, and tiny dots danced in front of her eyes. People didn’t often realize just how hot stage lights could be. The expression “basking in the spotlight”? That stray s had to be a typo, because it was more like “baking in the spotlight.”
“Sierra, what do you think separates you from other child stars?” The 90’s Con panel moderator directed the question at her, smoothing a hand down his tie as he glanced at the index cards clutched in one hand. She took a breath, the prickling threat of sweat teasing along her hairline. God, was she relieved she didn’t have to do this daily anymore. She smoothed her hair over her shoulder and ran her hands over the skirt of her cream-colored silk dress. Hundreds of eyes locked onto her, and a zing of adrenaline shot down to her toes.
She bit her lip and fingered the shooting star pendant at the base of her throat. “You mean, how did I avoid living ‘la vida Lohan’?”
Laughter bubbled up from the audience, and she relaxed a little. Although it was par for the course at events like this, she’d always hated that question and the quagmire of emotions it dredged up.
She took a deep breath and dove in. “Quite frankly, being a child star is pretty messed up. You’re working with adults, keeping adult hours, making adult money, and trying to live up to the expectations of everyone around you. Any kid would find that kind of pressure confining. And that’s where the rebellion comes in. Drinking and drugs and sex. And all of this is happening when you’re trying to figure out who you actually are. How are you supposed to do that in that environment?” She paused, contemplating how much to share.
