Page 80 of Fast Justice

“Tell him I’m fine and that I love him. I want to see him, but not right now. I’ll call him once I get some sleep.”

As her mother left, the curtain swishing shut behind her, Rowan’s dad sank down on the edge of the bed, his fingers still locked around hers. “How are you, really?” he asked, the concern in his eyes filling her with warmth.

“I’m lucky to be alive.”

He nodded once and glanced away, clamped his lips together as though he was fighting for control over his emotions. Except Aiden Stewart never displayed that sort of emotion.

And yet when he looked back at her a moment later, his eyes were wet with tears. “I couldn’t stand that I couldn’t do anything,” he choked out, and Rowan’s heart cracked open.

“Ah, Dad…” Leaning forward, she pulled him into a tight hug, not caring if it hurt her bruises. Although it was a little weird that she was the one comforting him after all she’d been through.

“I love you,” he whispered fiercely into her hair. “So much.”

She smiled, that piece inside her that would always be the little girl desperate for his approval blooming like a wilted flower denied water and sunlight for so long. “I love you too.”

He held her close for a long moment, then squeezed her and took an unsteady breath, clearing his throat. “You must be tired.”

“So tired,” she agreed. “Have you seen Malcolm?” He’d been with her on the ride here in the ambulance, had stayed with her through some of the questioning before he’d been pulled away by his commander over an hour ago.

“He was out in the hall talking with some agency people when we came down,” he said.

“Could you go see if you can drag him away for me? As soon as I get the okay, I want out of here.”

Her dad smiled at her, brushed his knuckles over her cheek. “Sure.”

A few minutes later he reappeared through the curtains. “Look who I brought.”

Malcolm stepped through, giving her a little smile as he ran an assessing gaze over her. “Just got the official word. You’re free to go.”

Thank God. She cast him a desperate look. “Get me out of here.” All she wanted was to be alone with him.

He grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

Her father went and got a wheelchair. Over her protests, she consented to sitting in the thing and allowing her dad to push her out to the side entrance where Malcolm pulled his truck around.

Two armed agents stood guard as they transferred her into the front seat—they weren’t taking any chances with Montoya still at large. God, she couldn’t believe that he’d found Oceane with a tracker that Nieto had ordered implanted into her freaking filling. Rowan was never complaining about her father ever again.

With a wave at him and a promise to call her parents later on, she breathed a sigh of relief and leaned her head back against the headrest as Malcolm drove off. She couldn’t remember ever being this tired.

“Do you want to go home?” he asked her as he turned out of the parking lot. “FBI’s got a security team ready for you if you do.”

“No.” God, look how that had turned out last time. The only person she felt truly safe with right now was Malcolm. “Your place, if you don’t mind.” Until Montoya was in custody, she wasn’t going home. She needed time to start sorting through everything that had happened, and after a day or two of rest, she had a case to prepare for.

“My place it is.” He sounded relieved. Reaching over, he took her hand and laced their fingers together. “You warm enough?” Stopping at a light, he reached over to adjust the dash vents so warm air blew directly on her.

“Getting there,” Rowan answered, just glad to be alone with him finally. All she wanted now was to curl up in Malcolm’s arms and sleep for about a week.

She must have dozed on the last part of the drive to his place because next thing she knew he was waking her gently. “We’re here,” he murmured.

She groaned and straightened in her seat, every ache and pain letting themselves be known. “I feel like I’ve been in another car accident,” she muttered.

“No surprise,” he said, and jumped out to come around and lift her from the truck.

“I can walk,” she told him, even as she looped her arms around his neck.

“Don’t care if you can run. I’m carrying you.” Using his hip to slam the door shut, he strode for the elevators.

“Hey, good timing.”

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