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“She’s the head chef, Aaron, but it’s yours.”

He shrugged. “She liked you, saw potential. She said you were lazy, but she thought she could fix that, and being pretty, she said, never hurt a chef. It’s how they get TV shows on Bravo.”

He sat up and tipped his head as the tears rolled down his cheeks. “Jesus, Aaron, what’s with all this white-hat bullshit? Since when are you the hero?”

“He’s always been the hero,” I chimed in. “You were just too busy being kept to notice.”

The look he turned on me was murderous. “And you’re not?”

“I’m a homicide detective with the Chicago Police Department,” I explained. “I work for a living.”

The way his mouth fell open was almost comical.

“So?” Aaron pressed until Jaden’s focus shifted from me to him. “Do you want to work at Cabo or not?”

“I do.”

“Good. I’ll have Miguel take you to the airport.”

“Aaron, I⁠—”

“And get you a plane ticket.”

“Thank you.” He caught his breath. “Please come see me if you’re ever in Vegas.”

“If I am,” Aaron said, slumping in his seat, resting his head on my shoulder, “I will.”

But what were the chances when we had the whole world to see?

As it turned out, Aaron’s insistence I go to the hospital was warranted. I was dehydrated and needed food because my body had started to shut down. It was why I couldn’t regulate my body temperature. What was nice was, Aaron stayed with me the whole time, hovering, making the staff insane with his demands; he asked so many questions that my doctor finally yelled and told Aaron, yes, he could take me out for a steak when we were done.

We weren’t allowed to leave until the evening. Between the endless bags of saline and the other of glucose, it was hours before my body regulated itself. Aaron fell asleep in the recliner—what passed for one in a hospital—beside my bed. He didn’t let go of my hand, though, even when he started to snore. When Miguel came in, he was stunned.

“What?”

He gestured at Aaron.

“He’s tired,” I told him.

He turned to me. “I know, but normally, he would work through that. He tends to go until he’s such a prick that I want to put a bullet in his head.”

“Yeah, don’t do that,” I said coolly. “I like him all living.”

“No, of—don’t you get it? That’s you right there. He just wants to sit beside your bed and hold your hand. He’s never done that before. He’s never slowed down for anybody. Ever.”

“Even for—” But I stopped myself before I got out the name. I was jealous of what he’d felt for Jory, and I needed to get over it because Sam Kage’s partner was a memory, and I was Aaron’s present and future.

“Yes,” Miguel answered. “Even for Mr. Harcourt. There’s a difference between wanting someone because you can’t have them and wanting someone because you’re in love. I’ve been with him longer than anyone. I can speak to the difference.”

I squinted. “You love him.”

“I do, but not romantically.” He chuckled. “He’s my boss. He takes care of more people, across entire continents, than you can even imagine. We’re all very happy to work for the man. We would follow him anywhere.”

I was surprised. “In the papers and stuff, all you ever read about is him being a playboy.”

“Yeah, but that’s the same stuff they say about Batman.”

My smile was huge. “Oh yeah? Batman?”