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Part of me wanted to sink into a hot bath, not come out for the next day and half, and completely forget that although the battle had been won—in the sense that any battle can produce a winner—the war was not over. I’d removed the bloody bandages, and stood examining the wound front and back in the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door.
The luxury suite reminded me of the one at the MGM Grand, where only a week before, I’d faced off with Graves and Malevich, had watched Josh Johnson die, been unable to rescue Zeph, and had failed to save Will’s father. Now Rudy was dead—along with countless others—and still Malevich and Graves had escaped, taking not only Will’s father, but his aunt as well.
I sighed and cringed as I poked at the weepy scab that had formed over the bullet wound, ringed in red and stinging as if I’d been branded. I sucked in a grateful breath. At least I was alive. Had he wanted to, Graves could have finished me off or shot Will. Had he chosen to spare us in repayment for my healing him and then preventing Will from killing him? Or was he injured enough himself not to care? The question made my head throb.
I leaned in and studied my reflection in the mirror. Light brown strands, mixed with highlights of red and gold, streaked my hair as it hung over one eye. I ran my hand through it and let it fall. Tired bright green eyes, set with deep, dark crescents beneath them, stared back. I closed them against the memory of seeing Will’s look of defeat when the Condor lifted off the roof. I shuddered, turned away, and chose the shower, a wide-open space of polished concrete. A celebratory bath could wait until we’d recovered Will’s family and saved Zeph.
I stepped into the hot spray. Jets came at me from all directions and I leaned on the wall for support. Still weak from shock and loss of blood, I hadn’t the strength to even wash my hair. So I just stood there—salty tears mixing with the water running down my face.
It occurred to me to wonder how Neri had done it—gone against her instinct to heal and actually taken Marcus’s life. In the aftermath, when we were trapped together and she had opened her mind to me, I felt her sorrow and pain, but underneath, a deep sense of relief overshadowed the rest. He would never hurt her again. An awareness of justice had also crept in. In her mind he deserved to die. I’d had those same thoughts about Malevich and Graves, but both times when I’d had a chance to see them dead, I hadn’t been able to follow through. Why?
The question haunted me. Would I ever reconcile myself to the fact that I just didn’t have it in me to kill another human being? I wasn’t afraid to fight for what I believed in—to fight for innocent lives and those I loved. But something inside me froze when it came time to pull the trigger, plunge the knife, or deliver a killing blow. And yet Will...
At the thought of his name, I sensed him nearby. His emotions, as jumbled as mine, came through in a hazy mix of worry, longing, sadness, and something more—anger. He stood on the other side of the bathroom door contemplating knocking, but he didn’t...he wouldn’t. The truth was, he didn’t know what to say to me any more than I knew what to say to him. I’d let him down again, and yet, he’d stood by me.
I slid to the floor of the shower and clutched my knees to my chest, closing my eyes and burying my head in my hands. “Oh, Will,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry.” The words came out choked in a dull echo against the raining water, then a soft knock on the door drew my attention.
“Lily, are you all right?” Will’s voice came through muffled, but strong.
I didn’t answer...couldn’t answer. Not truthfully anyway. After a few more seconds, the door tentatively opened and then closed. I looked up to see Will standing there, eyes wide and full of concern. Oddly—and maybe I was too far gone to care—but my being naked in front of him didn’t even faze me. Meeting his gaze through streaming tears, my mouth opened to say something, but no words came out.
Will stripped off his shirt, kicked off his boots and stepped into the shower, pants on. He lowered himself beside me, wrapped me in his arms and held me, the two of us silent for a long time. He let me cry against his chest, holding his own tears in check—staying strong for me as he always did. When finally I’d started to shiver, he reached over and turned off the water, climbed to his feet, and grabbed a soft towel from the shelf. He wrapped it around me, lifted me to my feet, and then scooped me up in his arms and carried me into the next room. Laying me on the bed, still wrapped in my towel, he pulled the covers up over me and knelt down at my side, his face close to mine. His hair had grown longer, the blond strands darkened with wetness and dripping down his shoulders and chest.
“I’m sorry about Rudy.” Will brushed my wet hair off my forehead and wiped a drop from my cheek. “He was a good man.”
I nodded, unable to find words without the release of another flood.
After a long minute of studying my features, his expression shadowed, he met my gaze. “I thought Graves had killed you.”
“I’m not so easy to kill, right?” I tried to smile but the halfhearted attempt only lent itself to more tears. I swiped them away and tucked the blanket up under my arms. Will took my hand and pressed my palm to his lips, closing his eyes and breathing in my scent.
“Even you have your limits, healer.” He said the word healer with some emphasis that made it sound both a compliment and an insult. “You should never have stepped in front of that bullet.” His blue-gray eyes were a storm cloud of emotion.
“I had to. I couldn’t let Graves kill you...any more than I could let you kill him.”
A sliver of a smile edged the corner of his lips. “I get it, Lily. It’s who you are. The question is...are our differences a deal breaker for us?”
“I don’t want them to be,” I replied, my voice less sure than I intended.
He nodded a brief acknowledgement and then met my gaze. “You don’t have to come with us, but Sam and I are going after my dad and my aunt. Dalton and Agent Simms followed Malevich back to Vegas. They’re waiting outside the city for us to bring a small team of reinforcements.”
That explained why Maia had been left behind with instructions to be my shadow and bodyguard, and why the energy in the whole place was electric with anticipation.
“I’m going with you.” I moved to sit up but Will pressed my shoulders back and lowered me to the pillow, his expression both determined and gentle.
“You still have a few hours to rest and you’re going to stay here and do exactly that.”
“You mean you’re not going to argue with me about my going?” My lips pulled into a tight smile, both of us knowing he couldn’t stop me if he tried.
“Sam told me from the start it was useless to try to tell you what to do.”
The warmth of Will’s hand wrapped around mine brought a surge of heat to my core. The ache deep inside me was no longer from the damage the bullet had done, but the ache of being in love. Regardless of our differences, I knew he loved me...and I loved him. He had sacrificed everything for me, and I for him. Every cell in my body knew I would somehow be irrevocably broken without Will in my life. Yes, I would heal, but the scar left behind would remain an indelible mark on my soul.
“I guess you should go and change out of those wet pants, huh?” I said, my cheeks burning with the thoughts running through my mind.
Will squeezed my hand again. Then he rose to his feet, leaned in and kissed me gently on the forehead, dripping a few cold drops of water on my cheek. His lean torso hovered above me, calling to be touched, but before I could reach out, he stood and backed away, his fingertips lingering on mine until our hands finally parted. He started to turn away and then came back, fishing in his wet pocket for something. He pulled out the chain with my locket and his whistle and dangled it in front of me.
“I thought I dreamed that part,” I said, an instant recollection returning from the moments after I’d been shot. Will slipped the chain over my head and rested the locket on my chest. I clutched the locket and rubbed a thumb over the wolf’s head on the whistle.
“I took it from Graves during our fight. I had to fix the chain, but...I’m glad I was able to recover it for you.” A shadow of anger and disappointment lingered on Will’s face, but he forced a smile. “Sleep a while. I’ll be here when you wake up.” He went to the long windows and drew the curtains closed, thrusting us into dark shadows and blocking the red haze of the late afternoon sun and the city skyline.
“Will,” I said, and yawned, catching him before he made it to the door. “I’m sorry Malevich and Graves got away with your dad and your aunt.”
“I know.” He turned his back again and I stopped him.
“Will.” Pausing at the door, he kept his back to me. “Thank you.”
“For what?” He turned, a curious smile lighting his face.
“For being here for me...for being a friend.”
“That’s something you can always count on, Lily.”
Then he was gone...and I was drifting into darkness as if sinking into murky waters.
∞∞∞
I was swimming in the pond with Zeph—a place we called our own out in the woods back home—a serene pool surrounded by forest, a warm breeze, and the scent of decaying leaves, pine needles, and fruit trees from a nearby abandoned orchard. He was far ahead of me as usual, and I was growing tired as I pulled myself through the icy water, arm over arm. The stitch in my side reminded me I was about to cramp, so I stopped, floated on my back, and slowed my breathing. A cloudless blue sky hung above me and the sun warmed my face.
Images of Brian Callahan, battered and bruised, broke through the peaceful moment. I was back at Industry headquarters in Vegas. Pictures blurred and the sound of children screaming, dogs howling, and explosions detonating one after the other filled my mind. Then a deluge of water engulfed me and Will was calling my name.
