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He lost his whole family and the girl he loved. It must be this same feeling times a thousand. Times a million. I don’t know if I would be strong enough to go on with life, like he has. And now I can see why he keeps running away from people. I understand it.
A tear slides down my cheek and I swipe at it angrily with the back of my hand. I feel totally and utterly useless, and it’s so foreign that I want to scream. Normally I’m the person who knows what the next step is. I’m the person with the plan and the to-do list and the solutions.
And now I have...nothing.
“Are we still man and wife?” Owen’s voice is scratchy.
“Nope, just another statistic.” I try to force a smile, but it’s watery and weak.
“Then what are you doing here?” He cringes as he tries to sit up, so I rush to get the bed’s remote. When he pats the space next to him, I sit.
“Being a good partner.”
He’s pale and has rings under his eyes. There’s a cut on his cheek and another on his temple. He looks like an anti-hero, the broody bad boy in some Hollywood blockbuster. Hotter than hell, even after it all.
He tilts his head. “What are you staring at?”
“Just wondering how on earth you can get shot and still look better than me.” I want to keep things light, but I’m feeling as if there are concrete blocks on my feet.
“Shut up, Anderson. Everybody knows you’re the pretty one.”
Anderson. He’s playing the joker again, retreating into his shell. “I um...the SOG guys went to 21 Love Street last night before word could get to the rest of the Romano crew.”
“And?”
“They found a whole lot of jewels. Drugs, too. The guy who was holding me last night worked the concierge desk, and he’s intercepting the jewels. Max got him to cave and we figured out which apartment they were operating out of.” I trace a rip in my jeans, watching the frayed edges of the denim move under my fingertip. “Now they’ve got security footage from the building to back it up. They’re bringing in the staff for questioning over the next few days.”
“So you did good.”
“Wedid, you mean.”
Owen closes his eyes for a moment as he tries to move. He’s in pain and I’d be willing to do anything to make it go away. “You’re the brains, Anderson. Own it.”
“Max says they’re confident Serge will talk. It will really help with the wider Romano case. Between that and what we got from the concierge guy, there should be enough to put a task force together now—the jewel theft, drugs, illegal gambling. It’s solid evidence.”
“That’s great.”
“Which means we’re done with the assignment. The doctor said they want to keep you here for a bit, make sure you’re healing up okay.”
His expression says it all. Owen knows I’m stalling. “What are you dancing around?”
It’s like the air has been sucked out of my lungs—I have so much to say and no idea where to begin. My thoughts are a traffic pile-up, one bumping into the next until it’s nothing but a jumbled mess. “I thought we should talk about us.”
He looks at me with those endless blue eyes and this time there’s no sparkle. No smirk. Maybe I’ve picked the wrong time, but if I know Owen, he’ll get himself the hell out of here the second the doctors allow it. Then...I might not ever see him again.
“I was really scared last night.” Saying this is like ripping myself open. I’ve always been strong at work. There are unspoken rules for women, even these days. You can’t admit to being frightened. You can’t cry. Youhaveto be strong. Always. But right now, I’m not at work. I’m not here for my job. I’m here for him, and for myself. “I thought you might die.”
“I thought that, too.”
“You risked your life.” I curl my hands into fists.
“So did you. You tried to convince a gangster to shoot you instead of me.”
“Didn’t work, did it? I’m obviously not very convincing.” I almost jump out of my skin when Owen’s hand covers mine. “I went into that room alone, because I thought you were in there, which was a mistake. I could have ruined everything.”
“And I followed you in there against orders, so I think we can call it even.”
The silence between us is broken by the hustle and bustle outside the hospital room and the intermittent beeping of the machines tracking Owen’s vital signs and administering his pain relief.
