Stolen: A Novel of Romantic Suspense (47 page)

“And you’re
my
miracle, damn it. I’m not letting you go, I’m not letting you run away. Not over this. If you’ve decided you don’t love me, if you decide later on down the road you want out, that’s one thing. But thinking
you’ve got poison inside you, thinking you’re a monster and walking out over that? No. This is
us
, Shay, and we deserve a fucking chance. After everything she did to you, what she tried to do to
us
, we deserve a damn chance.”

She was silent, staring at him.

“Can you tell me that you don’t love me?” He threw it out there, a challenge. No matter what he’d said earlier, he knew she wasn’t a coward and damn it, if it took a dare, fine. He’d dare her into this. He didn’t have a problem with that.

“You know I love you.”

“Then why in the
hell
are you letting her win? She probably hated the idea of you having anybody in your life and you want to let her win?”

“It’s not a game.” Shay reached up, touched his lips. “This is life, Elliot. It’s not a game.”

“No. It’s a hell of a lot more important … it’s
our
lives. And I want to spend mine with you. It’s all I’ve wanted almost from the first time I met you. Now just answer this—do you want the same thing or not?”

Just answer
 … Shay stared up at him.

Shit, he made it sound so easy.

“Don’t think so hard,” he whispered against her lips. “Trust me … just answer the damn question and we’ll worry about the hard shit later. Do you want the same thing or not?”

Trust me …

She found herself thinking about something Leslie had said, back when she’d pretended to be Darcy.

Do you really think you can trust him?

Shay knew she could. Shoving thoughts of Leslie out of her mind, she thought of Darcy, wondered what her friend would have said—and she already knew the answer. Darcy would have all but been kicking Shay’s tail for hesitating.

But none of that mattered if Shay couldn’t work up the courage.

If Shay couldn’t let go.

Easing back, she stared at Elliot’s face, reached up, and touched his mouth.

Trust me …

She did.

She could.

She would.

Leaning in, she pressed her brow to his. “I want the same thing, Elliot.”

His arms came around her, and all the tension just drained out of his body. He sagged back onto the bed, taking Shay with him. “You’re not running,” he mumbled against her hair.

Closing her eyes, she shook her head.

“Say it, damn it,” he growled, squeezing her tighter.

“Hey, easy …” She could feel the bulk of bandages under her hand.

“Say it.” Lifting his head, he glared at her.

“I’m not running.”

“Thank God.” He blew out a sigh, closed his eyes. “Shit, I’m tired. You’re exhausting me, Shay.”

She winced, guilt twisting inside her. “I’m sorry.”

A big hand cradled the back of her head, easing her back against his chest. “Don’t be. I’m not. Just be here … I think I might fall asleep here in a second. Pain pills. Evil bastards.”

She scowled, tried to lift her head to stare at him, but he kept holding her tight. “Pain pills?”

“Yeah. Be here … if I go to sleep. You’ll be here when I wake, right?”

In the darkness of the room, she shifted around and whispered, “Yeah. I’ll be here.” And this time, she’d stay.

I should probably make a note … pretty please to my editor, Kate, my agent, Irene, and my admin, Nicole … the events in this book in no way have any bearing on anything, other than a wild imagination.

Thanks to Sassy for refreshers on Phoenix.

Thanks to all my readers.

Thanks to Olivia Gates for the refreshers regarding the pneumothorax.

Thanks, so much, for the family who put up with the fact that I had to hide in my room and write at night, even while we were on vacation … I love you all, you’re my everything, and I thank God for you.

B
Y
S
HILOH
W
ALKER

Stolen
If You Know Her
If You Hear Her
If You See Her