by Meghan March
The nurse shuffles back and the door closes once more.
I turn and look at my husband. “We are not over. Do you understand me? I took vows, and I meant every single word of them.”
His face shifts from the hard mask to twisted confusion. “Are you trying to say I didn’t?”
“You want to undo all of this? End it?”
He jams a hand into his hair as he stares down at me, looking completely destroyed.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Keira. That’s not what I meant but, fuck, it should be. If I had a single shred of decency in my soul, I would take everything back, all the way to the first time I touched you.” He sounds like he’s forcing the words from his throat. “But even if I had that power, I wouldn’t take any of it back. Not a single goddamned second. If that makes me the most selfish motherfucker on this planet, then so be it.”
“Then what the hell did you mean?” My tears fall harder now. Partly because nothing makes sense right now, but most of all, because I can’t stand to see that tortured expression on his face.
“That I would turn back time to save you even a single moment of pain. Take us back to when we were eating cake and dancing. To before you almost fucking died because of me.”
Guilt underpins every single word, and I hate it. This isn’t his fault. I refuse to let him shoulder this burden.
“You didn’t pull that trigger. She did.”
“But I should’ve stopped it. I should’ve known.”
I reach out to touch his arm, drawing strength from him, desperate to take his pain like he wants to take mine. “I know you’re superhuman, but even you can’t know everything.”
The muscles in his jaw tense as he leans down to cup my cheek. “I said I’d keep you safe, and I didn’t. That’s something I’ll have to live with for the rest of my life.”
I turn my face into his hand and press a kiss to his palm. “As long as you live with me for the rest of your life, we’ll deal with it together.”
“Keira—” My name sounds like a prayer torn from his lips.
“I just need to know one thing.”
“What?” he asks, cupping my face like he never wants to let it go.
“Am I safe now?”
He nods. “Yes. Completely. I’ve taken care of everything.”
I want to ask a dozen more questions, but like he said—not now. So I settle for the most important one.
“And what happens when they discharge me?”
Lachlan’s eyes narrow, his gaze intensifying. “You come home to me. Where you belong.”
Keira
My discharge papers have been signed. After seven full days in the hospital, I should be rushing out the door, but I’m not.
“Honey, are you sure?” Mom squeezes my shoulder as my wheelchair halts at the door of a private room. A private room I’m willing to bet anything is being paid for by my husband.
“I know you never liked Mags, but—”
Her grip stiffens. “It wasn’t that I didn’t like her, honey. It was that I didn’t want to take a chance that you’d be pulled down her path.”
I swallow at her words. How can I ever tell my mother that I’m standing at the end of a path that is infinitely more dangerous than the one Magnolia has taken? I’m the queen of a sinful empire, and I plan to spend the rest of my life beside its king.
I especially can’t tell her that Magnolia is totally responsible for putting me in that position, and that there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.
With the hand that’s not strapped to my side in a sling, I reach up and cover hers before looking up at her. “I love you, Mom. Thank you for everything.”
“I love you too, honey.”
“Now, I need a few minutes alone with Mags. I . . . I have a few things I have to say to her, and I need some space.”
She releases my shoulder and steps away. “Okay. I’ll be right outside, and Dad is getting everything else in order.”
The aide wheels me into the room and parks my chair beside Magnolia’s bed, then retreats, shutting the door behind her.
Magnolia’s dark hair is wrapped in gauze that covers her entire head. No one would tell me anything about her condition except that she’s being monitored and provided the best possible care. She hasn’t woken up, and they don’t know if she ever will.
I extend my free hand and clutch her limp one. “Magnolia Marie Maison, this is so like you.” I sniffle back tears. “Gotta cause all the drama to get the attention and leave the rest of us in suspense, wondering what’s going on.”
The beeping of the monitors is the only response to my poor attempt at humor.
I squeeze her fingers. “Mags, please. You have to wake up. You’re a fighter. You’re the toughest woman I know, and you will not let this beat you. Do you understand me? I refuse to let you give up.”
The beeping of the monitor stays steady, no indication at all that she hears a single word. But I know there’s research out there about people in comas being able to hear what’s said around them while they’re unconscious. I’m hoping like hell my best friend can hear me now, because if I don’t hold on to that belief, I’ll end up sobbing at her bedside.
That might happen anyway, though.
I lift Magnolia’s hand to my cheek. “Listen to me, woman. You are not leaving the world like this. You don’t go quietly. They’ll have to tear you off this earth kicking and screaming. Do you hear me? That’s who you are. Don’t you dare let me down. I need you to wake up. I have things to say to you, and I need to know that you can hear them.”
The answering silence triggers another torrent of tears.
“I know you did what you thought was right for me. That you always do what you think is right for me. I don’t care about your other motives, because you gave me a gift I can never repay. I should’ve thanked you when I had the chance.”
Her pulse beats through her wrist and her chest rises and falls, but that’s it.
“Mags, how are you going to tell me I told you so if you don’t freaking wake up so I can tell you this when you’re not unconscious?”
I drop my head, tears rolling down her palm now.
“I forgive you. I love you. Please, come back to me. The world would be a darker place without you in it. My world would be darker, and I know you don’t want that.”
I wait for long, silent moments, but she still doesn’t wake.
What did I really think was going to happen? That it would be like Sleeping Beauty and somehow my forgiveness would wake my best friend like the prince’s kiss? Obviously not.
“I love you, Mags.” I press a kiss into her palm and lower her hand to her side. “Come back to us. I promise you’ll get all of those sister-of-the-queen benefits.”
When we reach the exit, Mom is chattering about the awesome place she and my dad rented for the next few weeks, and how much I’m going to love it. Their rental car idles at the curb. My dad hops out as soon as he sees us, and reaches the sidewalk as another car pulls up behind him.
A black Mercedes-Maybach with blacked-out windows. I don’t need to see inside it, though, to know exactly who’s driving.
“Would you be more comfortable in the backseat or the front, honey?” Mom keeps talking, debating the question with my dad, not waiting for a response from me.
Which is good, because my attention is on the black car.
The driver’s door opens and V steps out. He glances at my parents, but they’re totally oblivious. When his attention returns to me, I nod, and we have a wordless conversation.
Yes, I’m ready to go home. Take me to him.
V returns my nod and comes toward me. As I rise from the wheelchair on unsteady legs, V is by my side in an instant.
My mom whips around, she and my dad finally realizing someone else has arrived. “Honey! What are you doing? Who is that man?”
V leads me toward the back door and opens it for me, but before I can get inside, my dad charges toward us. If he had a gun, I’m pretty s
ure the barrel would be pressing against V’s head right now.
“I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doing, but you get your goddamned hands off my daughter.”
“Honey? What’s going on? Do you need me to get security?” Fear resonates in my mom’s voice, just as strong as my dad’s threat hanging in the air.
I can’t blame them. They got a call in the middle of the night and found me hanging on to life by a thread. And yet I still can’t tell them the truth.
“Mom, Dad, this is my ride. My driver. I promise he won’t let anything happen to me. He’ll keep me safer than you ever knew was possible.”
My dad’s gaze narrows on V. “Where the hell was he when you took a bullet, if he’s so good at keeping you safe?”
My instinct is to plead with my dad not to argue with me right now, but instead, I straighten my spine as much as is possible with my healing injuries and face him.
“There are things I can’t tell you right now, Dad, but I will when I can.”
“I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all.” My mom’s fingers tangle together in front of her as she frets. “Honey, please, just come with us. Don’t get in that car.”
V clears his throat. “I’ll protect her with my life. I swear it to you.” His deep voice sounds rusty from disuse.
Silently, I freak out. You can freaking talk, V? Are you kidding me?
My eyebrows climb toward my hairline, but I hold back the questions begging to fall from my lips.
“Who are you? Who do you work for? Have I seen you before?” My dad’s jaw tenses, his hands clenched into fists.
V goes silent again, giving me the odd thought that hearing his voice is equivalent to spotting an albino leopard in the wild. Once in a lifetime.
I meet both of my parents’ panicked stares one at a time. “Dad, stand down. Mom, I love you both. I promise I’m fine. I’m going to be safe. I’ll be in touch very soon.”
“Keira—”
My name is gruff on my dad’s lips, and I interrupt him before he can launch into whatever lecture or scolding is coming.
“I’ll see you at the distillery tomorrow morning, Dad. I’d really like to have your expertise while I sort out what the hell our next steps are. Seven Sinners was about to step up to the next level, and I refuse to back down.”
My dad’s head jerks back. “Tomorrow morning? You swear?”
I nod. “Yes. I’ll be there. Maybe you should take Mom out to dinner tonight. She has to be missing real crawfish étouffée something fierce.”
My father studies me and then V. “I’ll expect some answers soon.”
I smile, feeling ridiculously regal, even in my sling. “You’ll get them when I’m ready. I’ll see you both tomorrow.”
V helps me into the back of the Maybach, and I’m thankful for the ridiculously comfortable interior. My parents stand motionless beside their car as V climbs into the driver’s seat and pulls the car away from the curb.
“So, when were you going to tell me you could actually talk? Don’t think I’m going to let this go.”
He glances up into the rearview mirror with a grunt. I laugh, the first happy sound to leave my lips in over a week.
I’m going home.
Mount
I may as well change my name to Keira, because all I’ve done for the last ten minutes is pace the living room of our suite. I tried to work, but my concentration was blown knowing she’s on her way home.
Home.
I’ve never called these rooms by that name, but with her here, everything shifted.
The lock on the outer door disengages and she steps through the threshold, her wild red hair pulled up in a messy bun on top of her head, tendrils hanging loose around her face. V nods at me from behind her and closes the door as soon as she’s all the way inside.
My wife.
My lover.
My love.
“He talks!” Keira blurts out.
I blink at her, because it’s not what I was expecting her to say first. “What?”
“V! He talked! To my parents. My dad was ready to call security, but V . . . he talked.”
A smile tugs at my lips, something only she could make happen in this moment. “He’s always been able to talk, hellion. He just chooses not to.”
She pinches the fingers of one hand together beside her temple and spreads them wide as she jerks them away. “Mind. Blown.”
Laughter rumbles up from my chest, booming through the room. Only this woman . . .
I cross the room and carefully wrap my arms around her. “I fucking missed you.”
“Good, because it wasn’t a picnic without you around either. One clandestine meeting in the depths of the hospital wasn’t nearly enough. Let’s not do that again, okay?”
I lower my chin to her hair. “Deal.”
She pulls her head away from my chest and looks up at me. “Would you kiss me? Please?”
“You’re still healing . . .”
Her green gaze pleads with mine. All the humor that followed her through the door has vanished. “I know. But when I woke up in that hospital bed without you there and no ring and no necklace, I thought for a minute . . . with my busted brain . . . I thought maybe none of this was—” Her voice breaks.
“Hellion, stop.”
Keira shakes her head. “No. I have to get this out. It matters.”
I curve my palm around her cheek and catch a tear that tips over her lid. “Then tell me.”
“When I thought there was a chance that I’d made this all up in my head and that you weren’t real . . . it was devastating. I never want to feel like that again. Ever.”
My arms tighten around her. “This is as real as it gets. You and me. We’re in this for life.”
“Promise?”
I release her and dig into my pocket with my right hand, pulling out the ring I had retrieved from her personal belongings.
“This ring doesn’t come off your finger again,” I tell her as I slip it back on where it belongs.
Her eyes light up at the sight of it before meeting mine and going hard. “They’ll have to pry it off my cold, dead hand.”
“Don’t you fucking say that. I almost broke in that hospital waiting room, thinking I lost you. And I don’t ever want to feel that way again either.”
She swallows, threatening tears turning her green eyes shiny again as she leans into me. “Kiss me, and we have a deal.”
The pain of that memory washes away with the touch of her lips on mine.
Keira
“He does not get to forbid me from going to work. I promised my dad I would be there this morning. You heard me. If you think for a second that my dad’s not going to call the cops if I don’t show up, you’re nuts.”
V grunts, his fingers flying across his phone as he’s returned to his mute state. My phone buzzes with a text, which is a really inconvenient and unsatisfying way to argue.
V: Boss said you stay here.
“Then he’s going to have to tell me to my face. Otherwise, I’ll walk out that damn courtyard gate and hail a cab. You really think he’s going to like that?”
V’s eyebrows swoop together as he texts me again.
V: He’s busy. On a call. You have to wait.
“At what point during the whole time you’ve known me have I made you think I’m cool with waiting? I will scream down this house, if that’s what it takes. We don’t need my dad calling the cops. You know that even better than I do.”
V grunts again, and I shove my finger into his solid chest.
“Take me to him now, or we’re going to have a serious problem that goes far beyond me being pissed as hell.”
Another growl.
“Now.” I jab harder, finding this whole giving-orders thing comes quite naturally to me.
V turns with a glare, jerking his head toward the door. I know enough about his body language to interpret it as follow me.
“See? Isn’t it easier when you just do
what I say?”
We head into the exterior hallway, and I follow behind him until we sneak into the rabbit warren of secret passageways through the painting entrance.
“Is there a map I’m going to get one of these days? Because I’d like to know how to get around myself.”
V doesn’t bother to answer, which is fine with me, because all I care about is getting to Lachlan as quickly as possible. Preferably before my dad has the entire police department combing the city for me and a black Maybach.
When the bookcase slides aside, V allows me to enter first but doesn’t follow. Lachlan is seated at his desk and on his cell phone, arguing with someone. He stands as soon as he sees me.
His gaze clearly asks, What are you doing?
I respond quietly, practically mouthing the words. “I need to go to work before my dad calls the cops.”
He holds up a finger and heads for the open doorway where V still stands. I pace, not feeling remotely patient as he continues speaking to whomever is on the other end of the call.
I block it out. I’ve already determined there are plenty of things I don’t need to know about my husband’s business.
When I reach the edge of his desk, I spin on my heel, preparing to pace in the opposite direction, but something on the monitor catches my eye.
I shriek as I step toward it, banging my hip on the corner of the desk. The shooting pain barely registers because the monitor shows a blond woman shackled to the hospital bed I recognize from the days after the car accident.
A blond woman. The woman who shot me and locked me in a mausoleum with a pile of dead bodies. Including my best friend’s almost dead body.
“What the fuck?” I shout. “What the fucking fuck?”
Lachlan turns toward me. His expression goes blank as he lowers the phone and ends the call without a word. “Keira—”
He steps in my direction, but I hold out a hand at him as I point at the camera feed.
“You need to explain this right now. Right. Now. Because this doesn’t make any sense.”
