by Kris Norris
It felt like hours. Days, as she placed one foot after the other, gradually cutting down the distance between them and his only chance at surviving. She was sweating, breathing harder than she ever had, by the time she reached his truck. Kent was panting, each breath taking a toll. But he managed to palm the seat, heave his body upright.
He swayed, and she had a moment of panic. Imagined him falling down, dying right there. But between them he managed to catch his balance—crawl onto the seat.
Blade waited beside them, tail wagging. She tapped her thigh, and he fell in beside her, jumping into the truck with a boost from her. He wormed his way behind the seats, laying his head across Kent’s thigh. The dog whimpered, gaze locked on Kent.
Kent managed a smile, coughing up more blood before shaking his head. “That dog’s as stubborn as you are. You’re certainly a pair.”
“We’ve got nothing on you. Okay, where’s the nearest hospital.”
He coughed, again, swayed, only opening his eyes when she shook him.
“Kent! Hospital! Which way? And you need to stay awake. My vision…it’s too risky. Kent!”
He blinked. Slowly. Like it hurt, then nodded. “Hank’s place is programmed into the GPS. He’s got a chopper. Head there. Out of the driveway, then turn left.”
“You’ll have to put a hand on the wheel. Help me steer. I can’t… Fuck, it’s going. Dots in from the side. Please, Kent!”
He stared at her, looked as if it took a few moments just to process her words, then he lifted one bloody hand to the wheel. It slide down, but he repositioned it. Helped her make her way out of the driveway.
She spun the wheel, starting down the road, when everything went black. She panicked, hit the brakes, everything spinning around her.
Kent grunted, his hand landing on her thigh. “Easy, sweetheart. It’s gonna be…okay.”
Shit, he was coughing. No doubt spraying more blood across his perfect lips. She pounded her fist on the wheel, staring at where she knew he was. “It’s gone. Completely gone.”
“It’s okay. I’ll…direct you.”
Tears threatened then fell, but she nodded, hitting the gas then heading down the road. Kent called out directions—gentle right turn. Sweeping left. Hold it steady. Her heart hammered in her chest, the sheer weight of possible failure nearly crushing her. They’d traveled for ten minutes when his voice faded. His hand slipping from the wheel.
She skidded to a halt, frantic hands reaching for him. “Kent! Kent! Damn it, talk to me.”
Nothing. Just the raspy sound of his next labored breath. Blade’s low whimper.
Addison groped for him, cupping his head—crying out when it lolled to one side after she let go.
“No. No, please don’t do this. Please, I need…I need you to help me see. Please, Kent, I can’t… Fuck!”
She slammed her hands on the steering wheel, again, Kent’s blood sticky beneath her palms. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t end this way.
Addison closed her eyes. “Okay, Addy. Time’s up. You can’t wallow in this…this darkness any more. Not now.”
Her voice sounded around her. She was talking to no one. But she needed to hear the words. Feel them. Have them vibrate the air around her until they rang true.
“All this time, you’ve been waiting for a reason to come back into the light. Something worth abandoning the darkness. This isn’t about being a cop. About Will. About anything other than your own fears. But there’s no reason to be afraid. Not as long as Kent’s by your side. So…this is what you’re going to do. You’re going to take a deep breath, count to three, then open your eyes. And when you do, you’re going to see. Because Kent is depending on you. He’s saved your life. He’s all you need. And you’re going to do this. For him. Because you love him.”
Her hands shook as she took a deep breath, counted to three, then opened her eyes. It happened slowly. Like a veil being lifted. First a few shapes, then muted colors, until the road stood out before her—the headlights cutting a path through the darkness.
She didn’t glance at Kent. Couldn’t. If she saw he wasn’t breathing, if she thought for a second she was too late, she’d lose it. So, she focused on the gravel road. On the map directing her to Hank’s. How the dot was drawing closer. The mileage counting down.
She thought she heard Kent groan. Breathe, then drift off, but she just kept driving. Her vision wavered, blinked a few times, but she pushed through it. Never taking her eyes of her destination—the small red dot on the map.
She was sure she’d taken hours to reach the last road—the one that held salvation. She hit the gas, kicking up dirt and stones as she barreled down the path, skidding into Hank’s ranch in a cloud of dust.
She was screaming Hank’s name before she’d jumped out of the truck, racing around to Kent’s side. She tripped when her vision cut out for a second, quickly recovering when she forced it back. It flickered but held. She reefed open the door, catching Kent when he nearly tumbled out. God, he looked so pale. So still.
She was too late. She knew it. Was he breathing? Normally she perceived all those small noises, but nothing registered above her pulse thundering inside her head.
Footsteps, then they were there. Hank, Russel. Some blonde guy she’d never met. Lifting Kent up, carrying him inside. She helped Blade down, then darted after them, tripping into the house and against the wall. The new guy reached for her, but she was already pushing off the wall, dropping to her knees beside Kent. Russel had him on the floor in the kitchen, a big black bag spread out beside him.
Russel looked at her, squinted, then nodded at Kent. “Tell me what happened, Addison.”
“It was Sanchez. Grace Sanchez. She was waiting for us at Kent’s place.”
“Sanchez? I thought she was dead?”
“I did, too, but… Can you save him? God, you have to save him, I can’t… I haven’t even told him I love him, yet.”
“Bastard’s too stubborn to die. Hank, ready the chopper. Swede... Call ahead. They’ll need four units of O neg on hand. Have a team standing by. He’ll need surgery. Bullet’s still in his chest cavity.”
Her damn chest clenched at his words, and she felt the darkness closing in. No. Not, again. Never, again. She steadied her hands, nodding at Russel. “I’m going with you.”
The guy—Swede—took her hands. Stopped them from shaking. “We’ll take my truck. Bring your buddy along. I swear we’ll get there right behind them.”
She wanted to argue, but he was already ushering her out. Helping her and Blade into his truck. A helicopter sounded nearby, and she watched as Russel carried Kent out, jumping inside the waiting chopper then disappearing into the night.
Blade settled next to her, his head on her lap. She scratched at his ears, a chilling numbness washing over her as the truck lurched forward, the miles passing like a gray blur beyond the window. Kent was going to make. He had to.
Chapter 21
Fuck. He hurt!
Everywhere. His head. His chest. Even his damn toes burned when he took a breath. One big searing pain eclipsing everything but the underlying thought that he was alive.
Somehow. Because pain meant life. They went hand in hand. It also meant he wasn’t going anywhere. Not that he even knew where he was. He blinked, coming back to himself in a wash of more pain. Only, it wasn’t quite as red hot. Not the crushing force he’d felt…
How long had it been? A minute? An hour? Weeks? He tried to open his eyes, assess his situation, but the signals weren’t getting through.
“Don’t try to move. Just…rest. I’m here.”
That voice. Soft. Soothing. Like lying in a cool pond on a hot summer’s day. It lulled him back. Eased the tight feeling in his chest.
Another blink. Another time shift. He knew that much. He was blacking out. Barely coming out of unconsciousness enough to register he was awake.
“Sleep, Kent.”
Kent. His name. It sounded odd. As if he wasn’t used to hearin
g it. As if it belonged to someone else. And why did the voice keep telling him to rest? He wasn’t supposed to rest. He needed to…do something. Go somewhere. Protect…her.
What was her name?
Darkness. Closing in around him. A hand on his cheek, gently stroking his skin. Something twigged in the back of his mind. Warning him she shouldn’t be touching him. That no one touched him. But it faded beneath her fingers. The soft press of her lips on his forehead. It felt good. Felt right.
More darkness. He wasn’t sure where it came from. It just slowly slid over him—dragged him under before spitting him back out. Into… He wasn’t sure. He sensed the light against his eyelids. Felt something warm his face. The sun? A lamp?
No, a hand. Her hand. He wasn’t sure how he knew, just that it was true. The kind of truth that came from deep inside. That you didn’t question. She was there. And she was his.
What the fuck was her name?
He needed to remember. She was in danger. That much he remembered. A sense of being watched. A flash of light, then—bam.
He’d left her. Not on purpose. He was pretty sure he’d passed out after being knocked across the room. Maybe out the door. But that didn’t change the fact he hadn’t been there for her. To keep her safe. To be her…guide.
Guide.
Guide dog. Blade.
Addison!
Rigs bolted upright, groaning at the pull of tubes against his skin. The flash of pain through his chest, across his ribs then up the other side. Christ, it felt as if his entire torso was being crushed. Trampled on by a ten-ton elephant.
He tried to breathe through the pain, realized breathing was pretty much beyond him, then collapsed back, chest heaving, lungs fighting to inflate. He closed his eyes. Sitting up shouldn’t be that hard. Breathing, shouldn’t be that hard.
But, at least, he was awake. Mostly. He pried his eyelids apart, again. Took stock. The room wasn’t overly big, though not small, either. A collection of balloons and flowers were crowded onto a small table on the far side, the words “Get Well Soon,” scribbled across most of the cards. A dingy beige curtain hung from a rod that circled the bed, the bulk of it pushed off to one side. He managed to twist his head to the right, then froze.
Fucking froze because she was there.
His Addison.
Her eyes were closed, one small hand nestled under her chin. She had her legs tucked underneath her, her body curled onto a cushioned chair. Her blonde hair gathered around her like a wave of gold, spilling over her shoulders then disappearing down her back.
She was breathtaking.
Not that he had any breath to spare, but seeing her—knowing she was there. That she’d been there all along—it eased the pressure in his chest. Lessened the pain still throbbing beneath his skin.
Something cold and wet touched his hand, and he jerked a bit—instantly regretting the way the tubes pulled against his skin, again—then looked down. Soulful brown eyes stared up at him, the animal’s tongue hanging off to one side. The canine gave a low, playful yip, licking his hand before settling back on its haunches.
Blade.
The animal tilted its head to the side, and Rigs wondered if he’d said the name or just thought it. He couldn’t tell. Couldn’t do much more than lie against the bed, alternating his gaze between Blade and Addison.
Her eyes fluttered, opened and closed, then opened, again. Wider. Blinking a few times before shifting toward him. Her gaze found his and stuck. Just stayed there, pinned to him, her mouth opening on a rough inhalation.
She seemed as frozen as he was. Sitting there, legs still crossed beneath her, her chest rising and falling rapidly—as if she’d just run ten miles uphill. That’s how he felt, only he’d done it carrying a thousand pounds. The weight of the world.
But for her, he knew he’d do just that. Any obstacle, any cost.
Addison came out of the trance first, uncurled her legs then leaned forward. He watched her move, every action full of beauty and grace, when it struck him that something was…off. Something about her was…different.
He swept his gaze the length of her. From her perfect feet hidden beneath canvas shoes to the long blonde tresses he wanted to wrap around his hand. Fist between his fingers as he tasted those luscious lips. Lips curved into the kind of smile that stopped traffic. Stopped the damn Earth from spinning.
But he still couldn’t place what was different, until he focused on her eyes. Beautiful blue orbs that made the rest of the world look ordinary. Plain. Big, focused eyes.
Focused.
She could see. Was staring directly at him, without tilting her head—trying to pinpoint his location. Because god knew he wasn’t making any sound. Okay, maybe he was breathing hard or grunting. He didn’t think so, couldn’t really tell over the constant beep of his heart in the background, but when she’d been blind, she might have picked up on those cues. Sourced him out.
But she didn’t need to because she moved to the edge of her seat, reached her hand up and cupped his cheek. Touched him right over the long jagged scars on his face. The ones he normally hid, but not from her. It all came rushing back with that gentle touch.
Bumping into her in the garden. Armed men trying to kill her. Making love to her in her bed. The shower. The truck. Letting her see inside his soul.
Some fuckhead shooting him then gunning for her.
Shit. He’d dropped like a fucking pussy. One hit, and he’d been out.
Addison smiled, laughed, tears gathering then falling. She shifted forward—touched her lips to his in a kiss so fucking soft, it made his chest hurt. Right there in the center.
“Welcome back.”
He smiled. Tried to, but the scars on his face tugged at his skin—and he was sure it came off as more of a snarl. But she didn’t seem to care, laughing, again, more tears spilling down her cheeks.
He frowned. Managed to lift one hand to her cheek. Catch the next tear on his finger. He watched it waver over his skin, then fall to the floor. “Don’t…cry.”
God, it hurt to talk. How was that possible? He’d been shot before—hell, not that long ago. Three bullets, and he’d managed to drag his ass out of the hospital room and down three flights of stairs before crumpling. And he’d woken up ready to wage war.
This—this was bone-numbing pain. Exhaustion. He’d only been awake a few minutes, and he already felt drained. Barely able to keep his eyes open. What the hell was wrong with him?
Addison shook her head, face pinching tight. He blinked, and she was holding a glass, a striped straw pointed toward him.
He opened for her, took a cautious sip, then another. The cool water slid down his throat.
She smiled. “Better?”
He nodded, not certain his voice would work.
She brushed some hair out of his eyes. “Don’t try to talk. It’s still early.” She laughed. A bit forced, but it still eased his muscles. “The doctors swore you wouldn’t wake up for another few days. I told them you were stubborn. Are you in pain?”
Sure, but looking at her, feeling her hand in his, it didn’t matter. She was there. Alive, despite him.
She tsked. “You’re barely awake for more than a minute and already you’re going into soldier mode. I’m fine. You’re… Well, you’re alive. Not sure how. A lesser man would have died, but you…”
Fuck, more tears. The kind that made her lip tremble. Her shoulders shake. He reached for her, and she curled into him. Not all her weight, but enough he could wrap his arms around her. Breathe her in.
He closed his eyes. He didn’t know what had happened. How she’d managed to stay alive—save his ass in the process. If she’d called for help or done it all herself. It didn’t matter because the end result was the same. She was there. Alive. With him.
Another playful bark and a lick. He chuckled, cursed at the jolt of pain. Apparently, laughing hurt, too.
Addison smiled, wiping at the tears dotting her cheeks as she gave Blade’s head a scratch. She glanc
ed around then leaned in close. “Don’t tell anyone. They think he’s still my guide dog. But…” She sniffed. “I couldn’t leave him behind. Not after he saved my life. Saved our lives.”
Rigs lowered his hand, gave the dog a pat. “Atta boy.”
Soldier to the end. No doubt about it. It also meant he’d have a hard time saying no when the dog decided his place was on their bed.
He took Addison’s hand. Squeezed it. “You can…see?”
Her face lit up. Like a fucking Christmas tree, all golden and bright. “Turns out you nearly dying on me was just the motivation I needed. Though, I swear…” She leaned in closer. “If you ever, ever, scare me like that, again, Kent Walker, I’ll tan your hide. Hardass Marine soldier or not. Are we clear?”
“Crystal.” He relaxed back, didn’t fight it when his eyes started closing. “You’ll stay?”
“Try to kick me out.” Soft lips on his. On his forehead. “Sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up. I’ll always be here, because…because I love you.”
He snapped his eyes open, again, staring directly at her. Had he heard her right? He opened his mouth, but she laughed, held a soft finger over his lips.
“Not, now. Rest. You can pledge your undying love once you’ll remember saying it. And I promise I’ll tell you, again. As many times as you need until it’s burned into your memory. So, sleep.”
She loved him. He didn’t need to hear it, again, to remember. It was seared into his brain. Echoing through every neuron. But…he wouldn’t stop her from saying it. Not ever.
Six weeks later…
Rigs paced the length of Bridgette’s clinic, constantly shifting his gaze to the door. She was late.
Not that she had given him an exact time. Interviews were hard to judge. Five minutes, ten. Three hours. It could go either way, and the last thing he wanted to do was rush her. Not after all she was giving up.
