Page 110 of S.O.S. Billboard

Yup.Shewasfeeling better, now that she’d made her man happy.

But then his eyes traveled the length of her body and he scowled.

Right.

O’Shea looked down. She wasn’t exactly at her best; her ankle casted and her body all bruised.

Billboard balled up the wet sheet in his arms. “No worries,” he told her with conviction, obviously having seen her concern. “You’re beautiful, no matter what. How are you feeling?”

O’Shea dragged in a breath. “A lot more alert than the last time I woke up,” she assured him. “But still thirsty.”

Holding one finger in the air, he hustled across the room, deposited the sheet on the floor, then from the sink in the corner, he filled the cup he still clutched. After delivering it to her, and making sure she had a firm grip on it this time, he went back to a closet O’Shea hadn’t noticed before, and took out a new sheet. He brought it back and tucked her in again.

“There,” he said, taking the drink from her hand when she finished. “Now…” he sat down in the slippery looking chair again. “You were going to tell me what happened after you stabbed your assailant.” His voice was all gruff and growly.

O’Shea had to think for a moment before speaking, but it all came back to her pretty clearly. “Well, I cut myself loose from the chair, and stood to fight the asshole as he got up off the floor, but he’d already damaged my ankle and I had trouble balancing, so I’m afraid he got the better of me. He kicked it again, demanding the combination, and I finally gave it to him. The last thing I remember was his fist coming toward my nose. I ducked, but clearly not enough.”

She touched the lump on her forehead and winced. “I must have passed out for a few minutes because the next thing I knew, he was no longer in the room, and I was hearing footsteps headed down. That’s when I picked up the chair, and…”

O’Shea regarded Billboard sheepishly. “I’m so sorry. I thought you were a bad guy.”

“It’s okay. I’m glad you were ready to protect yourself,” he said with sincerity. “I’d let you beat up on me any day, if it means keeping yourself safe. Not that I hope ever to do a repeat of this again,” he ended with a snarl.

“I know, big guy. And you’ve done nothing but try to keep me safe. I appreciate it. I… have to tell you. I didn’t panic in that small space where they took me. And the only reason I didn’t is because I knew you’d be coming for me soon.”

Billboard grunted, but she could see he was pleased.

It was O’Shea’s turn to prompt him. “Now tell me what happened after I passed out.”

Billboard launched into his story, leaving nothing out, not even his interrogation epiphany. When he was finished, O’Shea—undaunted that he’d not only coerced Jakes with a shard of glass, but had also left it impaled in his hand while he came to her rescue—purposely put a cat-licking-the-cream look on her face.

“Damn,” she purred. “I’m so sorry I missed it. But I’m beyond thrilled you can finally see that sometimes we have to put our hard-won ideals aside for the greater good. That greater good being me this time,” she added cheekily. “But Jakes?” Her smile couldn’t have gotten any wider. “I’m beyond elated that the rat-bastard got what was coming to him.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

By the end of the second day of O’Shea’s hospital stay, she’d become extremely antsy. Billboard was under no illusions about that. He’d known it would only be a matter of time before she began champing at the bit to be released, but with her ankle casted, her newly broken ribs, and her concussion making her sleep a lot, she was still being assessed. Billboard hoped that she could put up with her incarceration just a little longer.

He'd also been biding his time, wanting O’Shea to feel more like herself before he declared his love. Billboard wasn’t at all hesitant about the fact anymore. He knew his mind. He was one hundred percent in love with O’Shea, and now that all the visitors for the day had finally departed, it was the right moment to tell her.

“O’Shea, I—"

“This sucks, Billboard,” O’Shea huffed for probably the twentieth time in an hour, derailing his declaration. “I have a life, you know. Friends.Cats,” she informed him, as if he didn’t know.

For the twentieth time he waspatientwith her, putting his proclamation temporarily aside to calm her down. “Your life is just on hold, and everything is good. Mizzay has called your department back in Louisiana and explained everything. Your friends have visited so much over the past two days that the nurses are thinking of locking your door, and the cats…” He ran a hand back through his hair. “They seem to be pretty happy at Anna’s house, and Ethan is over the moon to have them there. So. Stop fretting.”

She gave him a reluctant nod, accompanied by a long, drawn-out sigh.

“Good,” Billboard acknowledged. “Now that we have that out of the way, I have something to—”

The door flew open, cutting him off.

Again.

Mizzay breezed in, looking excited, which wasn’t hard for the woman to do. She never did anything halfway. If she was angry, watch out. If she didn’t like you, duck. If things were going her way… Well, it looked like that was the case, now, so Billboard relaxed a little.

“How ah youze doin’?” she asked O’Shea, not hesitating in the entrance, but prancing over to O’Shea’s bed to give her good leg a soft pat. Mizzay had been noticeably absent during all the other friend-incursions earlier.

“Ready to get out of here,” O’Shea huffed. “I just don’t understand why—” She started to launch into another round of “why can’t I be released”, but Mizzay interrupted.

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