by Clara Stone
I nod, looking at my hands. From the corner of my eye, I see Vincent studying me, waiting for me to say something. Once the doctor leaves, I turn to him, questioning.
“Apparently Hudson is a very well-known doctor in the Southeast.” He shrugs. “He’s come to check up on you every chance he’s had, and so does his wife. Even Heath and Ace stopped by to see how you’re doing.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” He laughs.
A guy dressed in a navy blue polo shirt and khaki pants enters the room with a wheelchair. His nametag reads: Jack Williams, Hospital Transporter.
“Your ride is here,” he says cheerily.
Suddenly, I feel nervous. I don’t know what to expect, or if I’m ready to see him this way. Underneath the facade I’ve been maintaining, my emotions are all out of whack.
“Jess.” Vincent places his hand over my shoulder and gives it a squeeze once I get settled into the wheelchair. “Everything will be fine. You’ll be fine. You’ll see.”
I nod, lost for words. My stomach is doing cartwheels and my hands shake. I link my fingers together to draw strength.
We take the elevator up to seventh floor and go down the hall until we reach room 710. He’s exactly two floors above the room I’m in.
The transporter knocks on the door and slowly pushes it open. Two sets of eyes land on me as he wheels me into the room.
Blake and Hudson.
Blake is even more beautiful in person than the pictures Harrington showed me. Only now, she looks like she hasn’t slept in days. She gets to her feet to approach me, a tired smile on her face.
“Jessica. You’re here.” Then, to the transporter, she adds, “Thank you.”
“Uh.” Vincent’s hesitation catches my attention.
He points behind him. “I need to grab a coffee, so I’ll be back in a few. Okay?”
I nod, appreciating that he’s giving me time.
“How are you feeling?” Hudson asks as he stands, placing his laptop on the table next to him.
“I’m good, thank you.” Then I quickly add, “And I mean it. Vincent told me that you . . . you took care of me, both of you. I’ve never had—”
“Don’t be silly. You’re family now.” Blake cuts me off before I continue on with my awkward appreciation. “You mean the world to Harrington, and that in itself makes you precious to us. And, as I’m sure you know by way, we Lovellys always take care of family.”
I don’t know what to say. I don’t know these people; they’re strangers for all intents and purposes. But here they are, taking care of me like I’m one of their own. Tears well up in my eyes, and for the first time in years, I let them come. They don’t feel like weakness anymore as they trickle down my cheeks, they feel like gratitude. Love.
I push up to stand, and Blake’s instantly there, lending me her strength. Hudson joins the effort a moment later, and together, they help me toward Harrington’s bed.
He looks so peaceful and happy. It’s surreal. Especially when I look at the wires and bandages that are on him, around him. I want to reach forward and touch his hair, his cheek, his chest. Instead, I slip my hand into his.
“Harrington’s never been one to trust, nor has he ever fallen in love with anyone.” She smiles, turning her affection on him, patting his leg with her hand. “I’ve told the boys over and over again, you and Ace coming into their lives is no coincidence.” She looks at me, and there’s so much intensity, so much certainty in her eyes that I’m floored. “He’s going to need you more than any of us for the next few months.” Tears well in her eyes. “I know it’s not fair that I ask this of you, Jessica. But you’re his strength, his weakness, his everything. I knew it the moment he mentioned you. He’s going to push himself to get better too soon, and he might even try to push you away. Don’t let him. Love him, show him just why he fell in love with you in the first place. Show him that sometimes strength isn’t found in muscle, or how quickly you can stand up every time you fall. Show him that strength is on the inside, like yours.” She pulls me into a hug. “Show him how to be like you.”
Hudson places a hand over Blake’s shoulder, and she lets go of me, hesitant. “I’m sorry. I just never liked hospitals, and never wanted to experience coming back here for someone I loved. If I stepped out of line—”
“No,” I blurt. “God no.”
She leans back on Hudson, like she needs his strength, and he immediately wraps his arms around her waist, kissing the top of her head.
She wipes her eyes. “Okay. We’ll give you two a moment.” She sniffles.
I look down at Harrington as Hudson and Blake walk past me toward the door. “You’re wrong, Blake,” I say out loud. I turn around to face them. “I’m not strong.”
Her eyebrows winkle.
“I like to be strong. I pretend to be strong. Maybe that’s my way of feeling it. But I see it here, in this very room. Strength doesn’t just come from within you. It comes from the family that surrounds you, the friends. And Harrington, he’s going to feel that love every second of his life. He always has. That’s why he’s strong. That’s why he’s fearless. As much as I want to believe that I’m his strength, it’s everything that’s already there which gets him through. His brothers, you, his family.”
“Oh, dear girl.” Blake tilts her head to the side. “We’ve helped him to grow up. But it was you who taught him to be truly fearless. You showed him to love again. To risk breaking his heart. You are his true strength. His backbone. We were just his foundation. You’re his future.”
With that, Hudson and Blake leave, closing the door behind them.
A slight pressure on my hand brings my attention back to Harrington. Maybe I’m just imagining it, but the corners of his mouth seem to curve upward in agreement.
And I make a promise to him, right then, just as he had to me. “I’m never letting you go.”
IF I’M BEING honest, my recovery sucked donkey balls dipped in sriracha sauce. And I have no tolerance for food that can melt my esophagus to nothingness. So thank god I was finally cleared to go about my regular activities . . . with caution.
The first thing Jess and I did after being discharged, was head to the FBI field office to be debriefed. It wasn’t really our choice, though; Wilson kind of insisted by way of an escort. In truth, I thought I was going to be kicked out. But apparently, since they were able to get Tony into custody, the mission was far more successful than they had hoped. Harris found a lot of material on Stamos’s laptop about his illegal liaisons with various crime organizations around the world, and the bureau has already used that intel to crack several trafficking rings, dealing in everything from weapons to drugs to women.
So, while they insisted that I spend the remaining months of recovery and physical therapy on suspension, they didn’t revoke my badge completely. In fact, all I have left to do before I’m reinstated is get my firearm training recertified.
Which is how I found myself standing outside the indoor shooting range, waiting for Jess to arrive, approximately six weeks, two days, nine hours, and eighteen minutes after the raid that cost Stamos his life.
“Hey, you.” I look up when I hear her voice, and am greeted by the brilliant smile of Jessica Owens. She moves her hips from side to side as she walks toward me. It’s a walk of seduction. She stops right before me, her face all serious. “How did your meeting with Wilson go?”
I don’t want to talk about Wilson right now, so I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her to me, crushing my lips to hers. She giggles into the kiss, wrapping her arms around my neck, her black, rainbow-filled hair fluttering in the warm spring air. It rarely surprises me anymore that she’s so responsive to me. I guess it really shouldn’t ever surprise me. Hell, with the number of times I’ve kissed her, she should be downright used to it by now.
Ever since that night in Jacksonville, I don’t take chances, taking every opportunity to show her just how much she means to me, and how much everything inside me wants her, cares
for her. Loves her.
There’s no more, “I’ll make it up to you later.” Because hell, I was scared shitless that I’d never see her again when I was holed up with Stamos.
“Hmmm.” She moans against my mouth when I pull back. “God, I hope that’s not how your meeting with your boss went. I might have to be really jealous.”
“Sweetheart, nobody rejects this face or personality.”
She snorts. “Yeah, imagine that.”
“Well, you certainly couldn’t. Resist . . . that is.”
“Prfft. As if.” She pulls away from me and I want to kiss her again. Not because I need to prove something, but because I want to. When I pull back, satisfied with another taste, she smiles, wide and bright. “Seriously, what did your boss say?”
I shrug, pushing off from my car and walking us toward the entrance to the shooting range. “That I’m allowed to have my job back on probation, and will be stuck in off-field duty for a few more months.”
She wraps her arms around my waist and mine goes around her shoulders, pulling her into me as we walk. “And you’re okay with that?”
I shrug. “I’m alive and kicking, and the girl that I love is irrevocably in love with me. What else can I ask for?”
She snorts. “A field job? Something where you can get in on some action?”
Well, now we’re talking. She definitely knows me too well. “I can think of other types of action I can get in the meantime.”
She giggles. “That’s not the kind of action I’m talking about.”
“Tomato, potato.”
“That’s not even the right saying.”
I laugh. “That’s just shows how common you are, you peasant.”
She playfully punches me in the shoulder, and I cry out. She immediately unwraps her arm from me and covers her mouth. “Ohmigod. I’m so sorry. Does it still hurt?”
I burst out laughing.
Her concern turns into anger and she swats at my bicep. “You’re such a jerk.”
“And you love me for that.”
“Yeah. If not, your ass would be dumped so far down the drain, you couldn’t get out if you tried with a crane.”
I open the door to the range and wait for her to step inside. Instead, she steps close to me, her arms resting above my hips. She stands up on her tip-toes and gives me a swift kiss before walking into the building. I chuckle and follow.
We check out our equipment at the counter—a .22 Caliber handgun for Jess, a Glock .40 S&W for me, two sets of earbuds and goggles, and a whole bunch of magazines—and down to the targets.
“I’m kind of nervous,” Jess says as we enter the range.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
There are only two others in the entire range, apart from us, and they’re on the far end. It’s the perfect day to introduce Jess to firearms. “Don’t be nervous. I’ll be right here to teach you. People kill people, not guns. So if you know how to handle one, you won’t feel intimidated by it. It’s all mind over matter. And besides, with everything that happened—”
“I know.” She sighs heavily. “How do we do this?”
I laugh. “Well, how about you watch me first, so you can see that there’s nothing scary about guns, and then I’ll teach you how to shoot.”
“Okay,” she says, short and curt.
I smile and plant a kiss on her lips. “Don’t be afraid.”
She nods.
I insert the magazine and ready the Glock. I look at Jess, who’s standing a few feet away from me, one arm tucked under the other. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other.
“Ready?” I ask her.
She nods.
I insert the earplugs into my ears, and she mimics my action. Taking a stance, I bring up my arms and shoot. It’s absolutely exhilarating, having the power to use a weapon that can end a life. But knowing that I can use this weapon of destruction to save lives is even more empowering. When I empty the magazine, I push the button on the right of the stall, calling the target forward.
“Come here.” I wave for Jess to join me.
“Whoa,” she exclaims, her eyes wide as she takes in target. “You’re good. Like really good.”
I shrug, studying my results. All of them hit within the bullseye area except for two. “I’ve done better.”
“Better than this?” she asks.
“You sound surprised.” I raise an eyebrow.
“I guess I am.” She looks at the sheet again and points. “My boyfriend is a bad-ass. A very sexy bad-ass.”
I grin, wide and proud. “Well, if all it took to convince you of that was for me to show you how I handle a gun, I’d have done that long time ago.” I check the magazine in her .22 and reinsert it, making sure the safety is on. Then I hand it to her. “It’s your turn.”
She takes a step back and I laugh.
“It’ll be as easy as skipping stones by the time I’m done with you,” I whisper into her ear, coming up behind her. “Trust me, sweetheart.”
She stands in front of me, the .22 in her hand. I stretch her arms out and position them, my hands purposefully touching her along the way. “The brunt of the work should be done with your dominant hand. Steady the gun with your other one. Like this.” I run my hands up and over her arm, and use my leg to part hers for a stronger stance.
Her breathing hitches at all the touching. “I thought you were supposed to teach me how to use a gun, not get me all excited.”
I purse my lips. “It’s all part of the training,” I insist. “Keep your elbows slightly bent and up to your shoulder level.”
“This feels all too familiar,” she murmurs. “Like our first meeting.”
I smile. “Like I said, it’s just like skipping rocks, sweetheart. You can do this.”
“Not exactly.”
I chuckle and bend down to kiss her ear. Then I place my hand on her belly and press in. “Keep your core tight. Good. Now, unlock the safety and always keep your hand close to the trigger, but never on it until you’re ready to take the shot. Okay?”
She nods.
“Ready?”
She exhales.
“Okay. Good.” I place my hands on her hips and encourage her to take her time, to keep her target in sight and leveled appropriately. “Go!”
She shoots her first attempt and it fires off to the side.
“It’s okay.” I place my hands over hers, giving her a little direction.
“I’m not very good at this, Harry.”
“Remember how bad I sucked at skipping stones, and how it took me like a billion tries before I could get that first one?”
She nods.
“Trust me, if I could do that, you can do this. And I’ll be right here until you do.”
She sighs.
I place my hands on her hips again and adjust her weight. Using my legs, I adjust her stance. Though she’s right-handed, she seems to hold a lot more strength in her left arm, so we adjust accordingly. Then, after helping her position her arms, I let go and take a step back. “I know this seems scary. But remember, knowing how to use a weapon safely can keep you alive.” I cross my arms. “Breathe, and fire. You can do this, sweetheart.”
Then I wait. The moment she fires, I know she hit her target, and it’s confirmed when she twirls around with a whoop. “I did it! I did it!” She’s yelling at the top of her lungs, and I can’t help but laugh.
She jumps into my arms, wrapping her legs around my waist. Before I know it, she’s kissing me. I smile into the kiss. “Never doubted it,” I breathe.
“I want to try again,” she states.
Three hours a whole lot of ammo later, we finally leave the range. Jess is satisfied and happy, having been able to shoot pretty accurately. By the end, she was so consistent with her aim that I decided to buy her her own gun.
She practically bounces back to the car. She hums to herself as I open the car door for her and she slips inside. Once we both buckled in, I start the car and glance over at her. She’s watching me w
ith a wide, mischievous grin.
“So, where to next, Mr. Lovelly?”
I swallow. “Well, I do have some unfinished business to take care of, and I’d love to have you come with me.”
She nods immediately. “Yes, anywhere!” No hesitation, no “I’ll think about it.”
“I think it’s about time I visit my sister. I want to try and find Ivy.”
Jess leans in and gives me a quick peck on the lips. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
I smile and shift the car into drive.
I FEEL THE air move before I hear her warrior cry. But I don’t get the chance to turn around before she launches herself at me. Her legs wrap around my waist from behind and one arm snakes around my neck in a chokehold.
She grunts, adjusting herself on me. She might be tiny, but hell, the woman has claws. It goes without saying, but never underestimate the power of a pissed off female. Because damn, a girl half my size is about to kick my ass.
“Ouch.” I grunt, trying to get a hold of her enough to get her off my back without hurting her. But she only tightens her hold, scraping her nails over my scalp and . . .
“Fuck, woman!” I yelp, looking over my shoulder. “Did you just bite me?”
“You deserve a lot more than that.” She growls, adjusting her grip.
“Stop biting me—”
“Fine!” she yells, digging her nails into my shoulder.
I flinch. “At least wait until I get you in bed and naked before you start marking—”
She rams her heels into me, real close to my pride and joy, and I twist, blocking the possibility of a major kick in the nuts.
“Holy Mother—”
All right. That’s it. I’ve never been one to overpower a woman, but damn, I need to get this situation under control.
Unpredictable situations call for unexpected choices.
So I do the only thing I can and whip her around, bucking her off my back and onto the bed. She falls with a surprised yelp, bouncing on the mattress in the process. I don’t give her the chance to attack me again. I throw myself over her, trapping her under me.
