Page 75 of Dirty Gambit

Then silence.

Chapter Thirteen

LENA

She wasn’t dead.

The surprising realization filtered in a split second before the pain did. The latter gripped her hard where the bullet had torn through flesh, muscle, and bone. It radiated with a white-hot burn that made her want to scratch until it stopped. She resisted the urge by willing her eyelids to slide open.

Gone were the white walls and expensive furniture that had made up the Westwick sitting room, replaced by a soft, robin blue tone with trims of ivory and gold. The furniture was still expensive, but the plush sectionals and end tables were swapped for a wide dresser, a gilded vanity, and paintings that couldn’t have been cheap. The bed alone with its wood posters and downy mattress had to have cost a pretty penny. The thing was a boat, wide enough to fit half a dozen people comfortably, but it was the movement by the wide, terrace doors that turned Lena’s attention to her right.

He stood with his back to her, a familiar silhouette embraced by the warm sunlight pouring over him. It was unclear how long he’d been there, but there was a blanket draped over the chair next to her bed. A litter of water bottles and discarded granola bar wrappers were strewn across the end table alongside a pitcher of ice water and an empty glass. He’d changed at least, she noted with amusement. His hair seemed washed if not slightly tussled swept away from his face, and even from a distance, he smelled clean and musky. The kind of scent that made a woman want to nuzzle the curve of his neck and inhale. The only change she could see was the metal brace taped over the middle finger on his right hand. She could live with that.

“Hey handsome,” she murmured, momentarily startled by the dry rasp in her throat.

His body whirled to face her, then he was stalking to the bed, strides wide and pounding. His tired, green eyes swept over her, moving from her face to her arm and back, searching.

“Hey.” He settled lightly on the edge of the mattress. “You’re awake.”

Lena tried to push up, but the explosion of fire that tore down her entire left side had her promptly falling back, panting as the burn raged on.

“Don’t move,” Jaxon urged. “You’re still healing. The bullet did a bit of damage to your shoulder.”

Teeth gritted around the throbbing, Lena peered down at the simple, gray t-shirt someone had stuffed her into, and the heavy-duty brace and sling strapped across her left arm and shoulder, keeping it pinned under her breasts. That was also when she became aware of the cords and wires coming out of her, of the IV mounted over the bed by a metal hook, the heart monitor strapped to pads glued over her chest, green line bouncing in time to every beat, assuring the listener she was still alive. It was a wonder she hadn’t been strangled by it all in her sleep.

“Ow!” she breathed once the pain had subsided enough to think again. “Getting shot hurts.”

A flicker of annoyance flashed across Jaxon’s face before he smoothed it over with concern. “How are you feeling?”

She grimaced. “Sore.”

“The doctors said you would be for a while.” Carefully, he took her unbound, uninjured hand in his large, warm one, the one with the brace, and rubbed a callused thumb over her knuckles. “Did you want some water?”

“Please?”

He rose and reached to help prop her up with as little jostling as possible. The pillows were stuffed between her back and the headboard, and the sheets were drawn snug across her legs. Satisfied that she was comfortable, he dispensed icy water into the glass and lowered himself next to her hip once more with the drink in hand. The cool rim was placed against her bottom lip and tipped.

Frigid water plunged down her raw throat, agitating her insides all the way to her empty belly where it hit without mercy and sloshed. The burn made her wince and pull back.

Jaxon set the glass down and faced her. “Better?”

Lena nodded. “Where am I?”

He raised his head as if to survey the room for the first time. “My room at my parent’s house.”

“Why am I here and not the hospital?”

“You were through the worst of it,” he explained slowly. “Mom insisted we bring you somewhere safe after the first guy was caught trying to sneak into your room.” So many things in those few words jarred at her senses, each one competing against the other for attention and dissection, but he seemed content to carry on as if he weren’t listing off several concerning events. “The police stationed uniforms outside the door, but the circus outside the hospital was disturbing the other patients so once you were well enough to move, we brought you here.”

Lena’s mouth opened and closed several times before she caught herself. “What?”

But rather than answer her simple question, Jaxon caught her eye, held it with a ferocity and focus of someone too tired to play on.

“Why?” He pulled in an inhale vibrating with exhaustion as if he couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Tell me why you did it.”

For a long minute, she simply stared at him, baffled by his question, astounded by his lack of understanding. It made no sense how he could ask her that, how he couldn’t know.

“What do you mean?” she asked at last.

---