Page 120 of Fire for Effect

If that wasn’t a good sign of things to come, then I didn’t know what it could be.

It wasn’t like my last engagement ring and band. Heath had bought an ostentatious diamond, and thick eternity band, in an attempt to show off how much money he had made. The supposed valuable diamond ended up being nothing but moissanite. Not that I would have cared. A ring was a ring, but the thing he passed off as something of value was something he bought only for the cost of a fast-food meal.

A bit of sentiment would have given it value.

I stared at the one-of-a-kind ring on my finger now. Sierra told me that the woven band was made of two shell casings that had been ripped out of Griff’s body. Sentimental, and incredibly morbid. It was perfect on so many levels.

That sense of victory was only blunted by the fact that Griff had been shot… again.

The wound had a clean exit, so there was no metal to pull out of his body, and even the surgeon seemed bored.

I guess he had been excited at the prospect of stitching a person back together from a bullet wound, but what we came in with wasn’t up to snuff.

“Barely counts as a GSW,” the annoyed surgeon said. “It was all very textbook. Once the anesthesia wears off, he’ll need some rest, but after two, maybe three days of observation, he can go home.”

“Seems familiar,” I mumbled under my breath, remembering the last time.

He had been awake last time, though, so it was a little different.

The surgeon back then wasn’t as unimpressed with the wound as the new one was.

“We’ll keep monitoring him, and we’ll consult with you if he doesn’t come to in the next day,” the surgeon yawned.

“Consult with me?” I asked. “I’m not his wife or anything, I don’t think I get to…”

“Are you Trinity Guerro?” the surgeon flipped the stack of papers on the clipboard at the end of Griff’s bed.

“Yes, I am.”

“You’re his medical proxy,” he said, flipping it closed. “You’re the only one authorized to make choices for him.”

“What?”

“Have a good day,” he said, turning around, and leaving with the flurry of his white coat trailing behind him.

The fuck?

I suppose it wasn’t that unusual. I had a copy of his keys, and he left his car with me. Hell, I was allowed to check his mail, and sign off on needed repairs, and somewhere in the depths of my important papers, stowed away in a fire-proof safe, was access to his bank statements, and a Power of Attorney, just in case. He was overseas a lot, and if he needed someone to sign off on repairing his condo after it flooded, or if a gas main broke, or something, then I was here, able and willing.

A knock on the door pulled me from my circling thoughts.

“Come in!” I said.

Cobra stayed at the door, his thick, tattooed forearm leaning on the frame as he looked at me, one foot in the door, and the other out.

He brusquely walked in, handed me a Styrofoam cup full of coffee, then walked back to the door like he couldn’t stand to be in the same room with me.

With his palm on the doorknob, he asked over his shoulder, “Do you need… anything?”

“No,” I said, automatically. “I’m fine.”

“Okay,” he said. “The floor has been secured.”

“Which means what, specifically?”

“Some of my colleagues are on the floor, with a couple staff from Cerberus, and the floor has been fully vacated to keep you and your boy safe.” Cobra tensed. “They’ll be here until it’s time for you to go home, and they will secure your residence until…” he sighed. “Until you get to somewhere a little more permanent.”

“I have a permanent residence.”

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