Page 77 of Heartless

With half-closed eyes, he watched Olivia. She was working herself into a fine tizzy. She marched back and forth in front of him, getting things they needed. First, it had been the ice pack from his kit for his knee. Then she’d grabbed the medical supplies. Next, it had been water for both of them. With each pass in front of the bed, she shot him a fuming look that could rival the sun.

She was injured—cuts and scrapes were on her shoulders, arms, and face—but he knew she wouldn’t see to herself until she had completed her tasks. When she’d dropped her backpack onto the floor and pulled off her shirt, he’d seen the cuts and blood where glass and metal had hit her. He’d tried to protect her from the worst of it by covering her body with his. The heat had been intense, and her face was pinker than it should be. Livvy was fair-skinned and easily burned in the sun. There were no visible burns, but he wouldn’t be able to see to her until she had run herself down. He would just have to wait her out.

She grabbed the ice bucket from the dresser. “I’ll be back in a minute.” The look she gave him before walking out the door told him she’d have a few things to say when she returned.

Hawke settled back on the bed. He had a few things he planned to say to her, too. Right now, though, he still had work to do.

Picking up the satphone, he dialed a number. Serena answered.

Hawke said, “Report.”

“Victory.” Their code word that all the jobs had been successful.

“Casualties?” Hawke asked.

“Negative.”

No loss of life, among the operatives or the cartel’s employees. That had been his biggest concern, especially for the ships. It had taken careful scrutiny and timing to ensure that the ships had the least amount of personnel on board. The people who had been there had been abducted and would be released after questioning. This hadn’t been about killing people, it had been about destroying what the cartel held most dear—product and property.

For the first time in days, tension eased from his body. The operation had been big, and there were days he’d doubted they could pull it off. Major destruction without loss of life had been an ambitious plan. Anything could have gone wrong.

Something had gone wrong. He glanced down at his knee. He hadn’t taken his pants off yet, but it was clearly swollen. It’d been his fault, every bit of it. He hadn’t been looking where he was going. In his early years, he would’ve stumbled and recovered his footing without even thinking. But now, older and much less agile, he had to be extra careful. He’d like to be bitter about his circumstances, but he’d learned that being bitter accomplished nothing but making a person feel shittier than they already did. He accepted and moved on.

What he couldn’t accept was Olivia’s deliberate disobedience of his orders. She had almost gotten herself killed, and he intended to get an explanation. Of course, that would have to come after she burned off the fury bubbling inside her. He knew she was furious with him. And while he could understand her anger, that would not get her out of a tongue-lashing for not following protocol.

The door opened with a loud bang, and Hawke grabbed his gun, pointing it at the intruder. Except it was Livvy, still in a huff. She glared at the gun in his hand.

“Good way to get yourself killed, baby.”

“Yeah, well, you should know all about that, shouldn’t you?”

Okay, here it comes.

Surprising him, she came at him with scissors. Starting from the bottom hem, she cut his pants leg open to reveal his angry, red, and swollen kneecap. The sound she made was between a gasp and a sob.

“It’s not as bad as it looks.”

She jerked her head up, her eyes searing him. “Shut up.”

Okay. He had enough self-preservation to do just that. Olivia didn’t get in these snits very often, but when she did, he’d learned to let them run their course.

She was fighting anger and the extreme emotions that came with almost losing him. Yes, he knew she still loved him. A love like theirs never died. It hadn’t saved their marriage, though, and it wouldn’t save whatever they had now. Love could exist without fulfillment. It was a hollow, sad kind of emotion, but it never went away.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” she said softly.

“You don’t have to. The swelling will go down. I’ll check in with my ortho guy and see what I need to do.”

Her expression stoic, she took a breath and said, “Let’s see your back.”

Gritting his teeth because, yeah, it hurt to move, he leaned forward and pulled off his shirt. Moving behind him, Olivia released a sympathetic hiss. He didn’t know if it was because of new damage or the damage that was already there. One benefit of the scars from the fire was there was so much nerve damage, he had little feeling on that side of his back. Though he’d had to sit for hours for the tattoo of the soaring hawk, he hadn’t felt a thing.

“How bad?” he asked.

“You’re going to need some stitches.”

“Too many for you?”

“No,” she said evenly. “Just hope I don’t run out of thread.”

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