Shoot to Thrill (44 page)

Okay, that was a fucking lie.

One by one, he started peeling off his bandages. Wincing at what he found beneath the hospital white. Wishing
those
memories would disappear, instead of the ones before the torture had started. It would be nice to have a good memory or two to dwell on.

Hell, even his naked redheaded Angel with an
H
had deserted him. No teasing erotic dreams had appeared since they’d started him on the meds. Not one. Just long nights of dreamless sleep. He missed
her
like fucking crazy.

He’d asked his doctor about her, of course. Another delusion? The doctor had smiled broadly and told him he’d been engaged before going missing. Engaged! To a Helena Middleton.

Helena. With an
H
.

Hallelujah!
He’d found his Angel!

Maybe a visit from her would jog his memory. Would he like to try?

Ya
think
?

So today he’d have something far better than dreams. He was getting the real thing. They were transporting her up in a private jet. Blindfolded, he presumed, so as not to give away his supersecret location. Whatever it took.

With excruciating slowness, he gingerly showered—how great was
that
?—carefully combed his hair, laboriously plastered on new bandages, put on a fresh arm sling, and dressed himself in his most masculine scrubs—the cammie ones Rainie had bought for him. Yeah, they wouldn’t let him wear real clothes just yet. Still too messed up.

He hooked himself back up to the IV catheter. But he couldn’t make himself get back in that bed. So he stood facing the window, staring out at the carefully manicured sanatorium gardens, waiting to meet the woman who had given him the most precious thing possible through sixteen months of hell—hope.

He waited. And waited. And then finally—

“Alex?”

He spun away from the lush view, his heart pounding out of control.

From the door, Rainie smiled excitedly. She knew. “You have visitors.”

Visitors? More than one? “But—”

“Your fiancée, Helena, is here, and,
um
, a liaison from the FBI.”

“FBI?” Alarm zinged through him. “No. I don’t want to see—”

But then she was standing there. In his doorway.
His Angel
. Alive, in person! Looking as radiant and gorgeous and stunning and oh-so-tempting as in any of his dreams. Oh, my fucking God, she was beautiful. Even in that awful brown suit, with her wild red hair wound tight into a bun at the back of her neck.

“Zane?” she whispered, her eyes glistening.

Helena.
He took a step forward, suddenly tongue-tied. “Christ,” he murmured past the lump in his throat. “Do you have any idea how fucking many times you saved my life in that hellhole?”

Her eyes softened along with her watery smile. “Language, Zane.”

He gave a wobbly grin, and somehow knew she’d said that to him many, many times in the past. He reached for her. “Please—”

“Alex!”

Suddenly, another woman burst into the room like a whirlwind. A striking brunette. “Rebel, you
promised
to wait! Oh,
Alex
!” she squealed, and flung herself straight into his arms—well, arm—her silky sundress whirling about them like a colorful cloud, knocking down a monitor so Rainie had to save it while he winced and grabbed the edge of the bed to keep them from falling over onto that. She smelled like . . . fresh cucumber. “I cannot
believe
you’re alive! This is just so amazing!” She kissed him on his bandaged cheek, beaming.

Alex blinked. An FBI liaison, Rainie had said? She acted more like a high school cheerleader.

He looked over at his Angel in abject confusion. “Helena?”

Rainie’s smile was ear to ear, but his redheaded Angel’s faltered.

“No, silly,” Rainie said, “that’s your friend with the FBI, Rebel Haywood.”

Rebel . . . Wait,
who
did she mean? “What?”

Rainie pointed to the woman clinging to him, the cute brunette in the sundress smelling of cucumber, laughing as if nothing in the world was back-asswards, and beaming at him like he should be the happiest man in the world.

“
That
is Helena Middleton, Alex.
She
is your fiancée.”

KICK
didn’t have to open his eyes to know it was Rainie. He just knew. By her quiet, sure footsteps; by the way she lovingly adjusted the sheet over his body, her hand lingering on his chest to feel it rise and fall. The way she bent to brush a tender kiss onto his forehead with a sigh, the soft tickle of her silky blond hair on his cheek. The uniquely compelling scent of her filling every one of his senses.

Rainie. The woman he loved.

Yes, loved. Loved with every cell of his body and every breath of his soul.

Being that close to death had taught Kick one big, important lesson about life.

Live for today. Grab love with both hands and hang on as long as you possibly can. Trust that it’s real.

Don’t punish yourself for past actions. Don’t anesthetize your heart because of past hurts. And don’t assume others can’t love you just because you find it hard to love yourself. Forgive. Others, but most of all, yourself. Move on.

He wanted a normal life. But what was normal? For anyone? Fuck that. Life was what you made of it. Today. The past was just that. Over and done. Gone forever. What he wanted was a future.

With Rainie.

Damn it, he needed her in his todays and tomorrows. Needed her badly. In every one of them. Every minute of every one of them. And he wasn’t going to deny himself the opportunity to have her there just because he was too big of a coward to ask her.

Not that he had to. She’d already told him how she felt about him.

I love you.
She’d said it so sweetly. So honestly. Twice.

She trusted.
He
was the one who hadn’t been able to say it back. Or do anything other than make lame excuses.

Idiot.

But he planned to remedy that mistake. For the rest of his life. For every today he was given with her. For every minute of every one of them.

I love you.

He needed to say it back.

He opened his eyes. “God, Rainie, I—”

She gasped in shock. “You’re awake! Finally! Oh, thank God.” She plopped on the bed and hugged him fiercely. Then gave him a long kiss . . . ending with her hand on his forehead. Ever the nurturing caretaker. “How are you feeling? Oh, you’re hot!”

“So I’ve been told,” he said with a wink. He felt like crap, feverish, with the mother of all headaches, but he wasn’t about to tell her that. There were more important things to talk about. He held her face in his hands and kissed her back. “You look pretty hot yourself.”

She rolled her eyes, but the warm glow in them didn’t diminish, and her smile just grew. “In a coma for a week, almost dead, but some things never change.”

He pulled her close and held her tight. Never wanted to let her go. “I can’t believe we made it back alive. No thanks to me.”

“You are so wrong. You taught me so much. I wouldn’t have lasted a day over there without you.”

He drew back. Stroked her face. “But how on earth did you get us out of the Sudan? With the three of us in that condition?” Not that anything about this woman would surprise him any longer. Her bravery and resourcefulness were unending.

“It wasn’t me. STORM sent a helicopter.”

He raised his eyebrows. Bridger hadn’t mentioned that. “But you must have radioed for help. How? Did the camel come back with our packs?”

She got an impish look. “Not exactly. I’d called in for the air strike earlier, like we were supposed to, but when they learned you’d been captured and I was going to try and rescue you and Alex, they sent backup.”

“Across the border? That was risky.”

“Thank goodness,” she said, “because without immediate medical intervention, most likely neither you, Alex, nor Nathan would have made it.”

A sobering thought.

STORM really did take care of their operatives. What a contrast from Zero Unit.

He pulled her down to lie on the bed next to him, tugging her close. He wanted to feel her warm breath on his skin, feel the flutter of her heart against his chest. “Were you okay? With the plane ride and everything?”

She smiled up at him. “Other than the part where you were dying?”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “Yeah, other than that.”

“Actually, I enjoyed it. Seeing all those clouds below was unreal. And the little fields and houses and cars. An amazing sight.”

He chuckled. “They just offered me a job, you know.” When she gave him a puzzled look, he added, “STORM Corps.”

For a nanosecond her face froze. Then her smile was back. “Yeah? Wow. That’s . . . Are you going to take it?”

He cupped his hand around her cheek. “Hell, we did our part. Let someone else have a turn at saving the world. Besides, there are one or two things I’d much rather do.”

Her gaze warmed. “Yeah? Like what?”

It was obvious what she was thinking. But she was wrong. Well. Okay, she was right, but that wasn’t what he meant. Not this time.

He reached over for the silver envelope Bridger had left on the table and handed it to her.
Rainie
was written on the front of it.

“This, for starters.”

She tilted her head, confused.

“Compliments of STORM.” He hadn’t peeked inside, but he had a pretty good idea what it contained. Which would play into his plans perfectly. “Open it.”

She ripped open the flap curiously, and pulled out a key on an elaborate chain. The tag said
Penthouse
. She hesitated. “Okaaay.”

Kick smiled. He’d heard stories about STORM Command’s generosity to its operators and consultants. Huge bonuses. Lavish digs, safe houses, and vacation paradises—all with flawless security, like here at Haven Oaks. If STORM had arranged for the penthouse, an entire army wouldn’t be able to get to them. And it would be a whole lot more private than a hospital room for what he had in mind.

“Their way of saying thank you for salvaging a disastrous mission,” he explained. He winked. “But I figure they’ll let me go along, too.”

She made a face, then pulled out the only other thing in the envelope—a calling card. Engraved on it was the address of a venerable Park Avenue hotel.

She gasped softly. “The hotel where we met! But . . . how did they know?”

“Zero Unit aren’t the only ones good at tracking people down.”

He tugged her close for a lingering kiss. “How long do you think before I’m discharged?” he asked, his voice husky with a sudden voracious need for her. And a whole lot more.

“Not tonight, so don’t get your hopes up, mister.”

He groaned softly. “Shame to waste that penthouse . . .”

“It’ll wait.” She frowned down at the card. “I hope.”

“
Mmm
. Probably just as well.” He nuzzled her neck. “You’ll probably need a few days to arrange things, anyway.”

She snuggled against his chest. “Not a problem. I doubt I’ll have to pack much.” Her lips teased his neck.

“Why pack at all?” he suggested as she drew her moist tongue erotically over his Adam’s apple.

She made a sexy noise in her throat. “You are so bad.”

“That’s why you love me, baby.”

She glanced up and the look of loving tenderness in her eyes took his breath away. “Yeah. I do,” she murmured sweetly.

And he’d never get tired of hearing it. “
Mmm
. Let’s not forget the license,” he murmured back.

“Can’t. I don’t drive. Remember?” She chuckled softly. “Though, I s’pose I could get one now.”

“Different kind of license,” he corrected, smiling down at her.

“Oh? For what?”

“The kind that will make an honest man of me. I was hoping this could be . . . kind of like”—he took a deep breath and crossed his fingers she wouldn’t run screaming from the room—“our honeymoon.”

She stared up at him in stunned disbelief.

Oh, hell.
“Unless you didn’t mean what you said about loving me . . .”

“No. I mean yes! Of course I do. But . . . I thought you weren’t interested in anything long-term, relationship-wise . . . ?”

“A guy can change his mind, can’t he?” He slid his fingers into her hair, brushed a thumb over her cheekbone. “I love you, sweetheart. So very much.”

She looked up at him, her gorgeous green eyes filled with tears of joyful surprise. And pooled with undisguised hope. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He drew in a deep, cleansing breath, filling his soul with the scent of her, the nearness of her. “You are all I live for, Rainie. All I’ll ever want. I want to be with you, now and always.”

“Really?” she whispered.

He swallowed. He couldn’t believe he was doing this. But it felt so right. So incredibly right. “Marry me, Rainie. Make me the happiest man in the world. I know I’m probably the worst risk on the planet, and you could do so much better, but . . .”

Her eyes softened and glowed with joy. “I disagree. And I’ll take that risk, if only you’ll let me prove you wrong.”

“Let you? I’ll get down on my knees and beg if I have to. I love you with all my heart, Rainie. Please say you’ll marry me. Or at least move in together or—”

“Yes,” she breathed, pressing her lips to his. “Oh, yes. To all of the above.”

He sent up a prayer of profound thanks. At long last, he’d found what he’d been shooting for all his life. To find his own true love, someone to cherish and be with. His own place in the world.

And the thrilling promise of a future overflowing with warmth and happiness.

EPILOGUE

Haven Oaks Sanatorium, NY
Two weeks later

“THANK
you so much for doing this,” Rainie said to Alex’s fiancée, Helena.

She, Helena, and Alex and Helena’s FBI friend, Rebel, were standing outside Alex’s room at Haven Oaks, where Rainie was about to become Mrs. Kyle Jackson. She and Kick had decided to hold the small wedding ceremony here because the doctors still wouldn’t let the best man out of bed.