Page 88 of Bidding War

“A dead guy. He?—"

“A name. I deserve the fucking name of the man who shot my boyfriend.”

He smiles faintly. “I am trusting you with a secret that could bite us both in the ass if you had to testify. You still want to know?”

I bite out, “Yes.”

“Edgar Jones. A CPA who bit off way more than he could chew. He was desperate, and he snapped. He was going to shoot Moss, and on instinct, I jumped in the way. Moss beat him near to death, then shot him in the head.”

I take his face in both hands and kiss him hard. “You stupid, stupid man.” Then, I kiss him again. I can feel him smile against my lips.

“I love you, too.”

“I can’t believe you did that.”

He sighs. “Almost everyone seems to be mad at me for it. Everyone except Moss, who has sworn loyalty to me over my father, which we are also keeping under wraps for now. As far as Dad knows, Mosses loyalty hasn’t changed. I’ve got him as a double agent to be used as I see fit.”

I try to think of how to leverage that, but right now, I’m too damn grateful that he’s alive. My gratitude takes all the energy away from my scheming, and I don’t care because Anderson is breathing, he didn’t ghost me, and he’s not cheating on me.

He was only shot.

Waves of sick terror flush through me. “I can’t believe you were fucking shot, baby.”

“It’s kind of the same for me, to be honest. I mean, you see it on TV and in movies, and you think, hey, that doesn’t seem so bad. Unless it’s a headshot, of course. But then it happens, and fuck me, it is that bad. Do me a favor and never, ever get shot, okay?”

I giggle back tears, and snot. “I’ll do my best.”

He sighs and, oh so carefully, leans back. His pillows are arranged behind him to keep him mostly upright, though. “I really wanted to stay up longer when you got here, but I think my pain meds are going to stop me from doing that.”

“Do we need to change your bandages? Do you need?—"

“I’m fine,” he says gently. There is such softness in his eyes that it makes my heart bleed. “You don’t have to stay.”

“You are out of your damn mind if you think I am letting you handle this on your own! You were shot! Anderson, I don’t give a shit what your dad thinks about me, I am staying?—"

“Please, no more yelling.”

My hand covers my mouth. “Sorry. Didn’t realize I was.”

“I meant it, though. June. You have your new job. I don’t want you to get in trouble for me about this.”

“You are all that matters to me, Anderson. I am here until you don’t need me anymore.”

“I’ll always need you.” He yawns hard and tries to shake it off. “But I think I need a nap, too.”

“Once you fall asleep, I’m going to go back to my place and get a few things so I can work from home and stay here. Clothes, toothbrush, that kind of thing. Do we need groceries?”

“Check the fridge. Moss stocked it. Says he’ll make me soup.”

The thought of the big bad gangster making my boyfriend soup is painfully adorable. The fact he needs to because my boyfriend was dumb enough to take a bullet for him … ? Far less adorable. God, I don’t want to think about any of it. I could have lost him. Fuck.

“Soup is a good healing food. I’m sure gangster soup is even more healing.”

He laughs, then holds his side. “No more funny stuff. Oh, and no other funny stuff for at least four weeks. Sorry, baby. If I knew that before, I wouldn’t have been so eager to take the bullet.”

I smile and watch as he closes his eyes. “I’ll get going, so I can get back sooner?—"

But he grabs my hand. “Please stay. Just a couple minutes until I fall asleep.”

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