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“And Jenna . . . Did she make it?”
“Yeah,” he murmurs darkly his fingers slipping over a scabbed-over cut on my knee, presumably from the accident. “Though she’s in the same state Dawson was.”
“I didn’t want to kill him. He gave me no choice. I thought I was turning myself in to my mother, but he was taking me to the cartel. I had no idea they were one and the same.” My voice catches in my throat. “I had no idea it was all Melissa.”
“Tell me . . .” he rasps, “tell me what happened. Everything.”
I suck in a deep breath and he leans forward, laying me back against the pillow. When he moves to sit back in the chair, I keep hold of his hand and ignore the dull aching throb from my shoulder.
“Please?”
I can see the hesitation in his eyes while he tries to determine if he should give me what I want or if he should keep his distance.
“Mason,” I bite back the tears threatening to break free. “We both almost died.”
“Fuck,” he grits, succumbing. “Let me hold you. I need to feel you’re real.”
Gently, he slips his arms under me, sliding me over and resting on the edge of the bed beside me. We barely fit, but I don’t care. Not when his hand comes up and rests protectivelyover my stomach and not when I lean my head back against his shoulder.
I start off by telling him about the photograph. The threat against his life the day of the shooting. I tell him about how at war with myself, I was. How I couldn’t stomach the thought of leaving him, but I couldn’t bear the thought of him not in this world.
I tell him about the closet and Nurse Ratched. I tell him about Tweedledee and Tweedledum, Michael’s death and his threat, Mr. Legs, and the escort who he confirmed, was on our side.
“Christian Cross,” he murmurs darkly after I tell him about how he watched me pee. “I’ll fucking kill him.”
“Don’t,” I breathe and I can’t help but smile. “He was only acting the part.”
“Yeah,” Mason murmurs, though he doesn’t sound the least bit forgiving. “And your sister? Did you know she was there?”
I shake my head—a mistake because I’m feeling really, really sleepy and it only adds to the vertigo. “I didn’t . . . I thought surely she was gone. She made it look so . . .”
“Believable?” he finishes for me, his thumb tracing circles over the pulse point in my wrist. Almost as if he’s solidifying for himself that I’m alive. Tangible. “She had fucking everyone fooled. Don’t blame yourself for that.”
“For once, I’m not. Melissa was insane. All the best parts of her were snuffed out by our mother a long time ago . . . I was just blind to it.”
“The best parts of her were nothing compared to even the darkest parts of you, little doe.”
Gently, I reach up, slipping my palm over his face. I want to turn into him, slip inside his skin for a little while, and just breathe him in until I feel like I’ll never be without him again.
“Howdidyou and Logan manage to sneak Parker out of prison?”
A twinkle of mischief flashes across his eyes and his fingers tighten on my throat. Despiteeverything, my stomach bottoms out with butterflies. “The media is saying two guards helped him escape. If I told you, I’d have to kill you and I plan on keeping you around for a very, very long time.”
My heart lurches in my chest. He’s so handsome it hurts.
“Easy, little doe,” he breathes, running his nose up the column of my throat, eliciting a shiver in response as the goosebumps pebble on my flesh. “You managed to walk away without anything majorly damaged, but you were still shot. You’ll be down for eight weeks.”
“You mean, no sex for eight weeks?”
He chuckles darkly.
“No sex for eight weeks,” he repeats.
“I don’t know if my boss will allow that. He can be kind of an ass.”
He smirks. “Sounds like a real dick. Imagine what eight long,” he pauses to slip his hand lower over my hip to brush over my inner thigh and my breath hitches “—longweeks are going to do.”
“Imagine how sweet it’s going to be when I’m able to return to my duties.”
