Page 84 of Rage's Heart

Rage stood, then lowered himself to one knee beside the bed, still holding my hand in his. I kept glancing from whatever he was doing in his pocket back to the determined look in his eyes, when suddenly out came a small velvet black box.

“I had this in my dresser at home,” he explained, his voice surprisingly calm considering the gravity of the moment. “Been waiting for the right moment.” His thumb flipped the box open, revealing a simple diamond on a white gold band.

It was beautiful.

“I had this whole big thing planned,” he continued, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Was going to take you to the beach, do it right at sunset. But after almost losing you…” His voice caught. “I don’t want to wait another day.”

He took the ring from the box, holding it poised at the tip of my finger. “McKenzie Davis. You make me a better man. You challenge me, you love me despite every reason why you shouldn’t” His eyes were locked with mine, fierce and full of love. “Marry me.”

One by one, tears streamed down my face now. Despite the pain, despite everything that had happened, in that moment, all I felt was love—overwhelming, all-consuming, never-ending love for my complicated, beautiful man who’d stolen my heart.

“Yes,” I whispered, nodding vigorously. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

His face broke into a grin that transformed him, years of worry melting away as he carefully slipped the ring onto my finger.

Then, with infinite gentleness, he leaned forward to press his lips to mine in a soft kiss that sealed the deal.

“I love you. So much.”

“I love you too, baby,“ he breathed against my lips as his forehead rested against mine. “More than anything in this world.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Rage

“How’s she doing?” Chief asked the moment I walked through the warehouse door.

“Better.” I rolled my shoulders, working out the tension that had settled there. “Doc says she’s healing faster than expected.”

The warehouse had been the Saints’ secondary base of operations for years. It was the place where we handled business that couldn’t happen at the clubhouse. Tonight was definitely that kind of business.

Killer stepped forward, clasping my shoulder. “She still in pain?”

“Some.” My jaw clenched at the memory of Mac wincing when she tried to sit up in bed this morning. “She stubborn as hell, though. Already talking about when she can go back to work.”

Reign chuckled, shaking his head.

“Her family’s with her now?” Morpheus asked, stepping away from where he’d been leaning against a stack of wooden crates.

I nodded. “Her family’s at the house and Sarah’s was pulling in as I was leaving. Even the dog hasn’t left her side since I brought her home.” The thought of my woman surrounded by people who loved her, safe in our bed, eased the fiery rage that had been my constant companion these past two weeks.

Chief caught my eye, his expression turning serious. “You ready for this?”

Was I ready?

For two weeks I’d been living in a special kind of hell. Splitting my time between Mac’s hospital room and this warehouse, between watching my woman fight her way back to health and making the man who hurt her pay for every drop of blood that had been spilled at his hand.

Hell yes, I was ready.

“Let’s finish this.”

“It’s your show.” Chief motioned toward the back of the warehouse, where a heavy metal door concealed a stairwell leading to the basement level.

I nodded taking the lead with Killer and Reign following behind me.

With the Jacksonville humidity, the room below the warehouse was hot and sticky, which made it uncomfortable to be in for more than a few minute. Exposed beams ran above the ceiling with only a few bare bulbs lighting the space. It was perfect for the trash it was meant to house.

I approached the cell in the corner of the room.

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