Page 79 of She Gives Love a Bad Name

Somehow I manage to pry my eyes open. Claude’s smiling down at me.

“What’s going on?”

“He’s stable. The surgery was a success.”

I straighten and leap to my feet. “Can I see him?”

He shakes his head. “He’s still asleep, and they’re not letting any visitors in. We’ll come back later.”

Disappointment deflates me. “I need to see him.”

“You will. Let’s go home. You can clean up, and we’ll come back in a few hours.”

Reluctantly, I nod and follow him from the waiting room.

The apartment feels empty without Grant. Claude stays with me. He makes breakfast while I shower. I manage to eat something and take a nap while he retreats to his apartment to clean up.

Later that afternoon, we return to the hospital. Rob pulls some strings, getting us in to see Grant.

My heart leaps into my throat when I see him lying there, tubes and wires crisscrossing his body. The monitor beeps beside the bed, and I watch the lines moving on the screen with each beat of his heart. His face is pale, but there are small blotches of color. That’s a good thing, right?

The nurse leaves Claude and me alone with Grant. He’s still unconscious and on oxygen. I hate seeing him in such a state. It breaks me.

I gently take his hand in mine and lean down to kiss his forehead. “I’m here,” I whisper against his warm skin. “I love you.”

Claude pulls a chair beside the bed, and I sit, keeping vigil over the man who saved my life.

For two weeks, I don’t leave his side. Claude brings me food. I make friends with the nurses on rotation, and they keep me updated on his progress and remove the oxygen mask.

But Grant remains asleep through it all. Daily, they remind me that it takes time for the body to heal from such trauma.

I’m reading the Stephen King novel Claude gave me when the beeps change tone. I glance up and find those intoxicating, dark eyes fixed on me. A tired smile accentuates his crow’s feet.

“You’re awake.” I set the book aside and take his hand.

“Quinn.” His voice is hoarse from disuse. He coughs, and I get him a cup of water.

“Take your time.” I set the cup aside.

“What happened?” he asks, barely above a whisper.

“You got shot. Twice.” I grip his hand tight. “I almost lost you.”

“I’m still here.” He gives me a lopsided smile. “What happened after I got shot?”

“Married to the job.” I chuckle. “They arrested Jack. He confessed to all the murders, including Lionel Madison.”

Relief smooths the lines on his face at the news. “What about Donovan?”

“They let him go.”

“What about your debt?”

“Cleared.” I smooth my thumb across his fingers. “It’s over.”

“Good.” He closes his eyes.

The questions burning in my mind for the past two weeks linger on the tip of my tongue. He needs rest, but I need to know. “Grant?”

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