Kane’s there, and he meets my eyes in the dim light, looking annoyed but not quite disappointed, which I can handle. Ariel’s quick to help them get James on the stretcher. His face is pale, and his eyes are closed, but he’s breathing.
Glancing at the Jeep, I can see Phoenix still sitting in the back, his expression unreadable through the windshield. Ari catches my gaze and lifts his hand. ‘Got him?’
I mouth the words to make sure I understand what he’s asking, and then I nod, and Ari turns, signing something to Kane, who quickly follows the procession of nurses, a doctor, and my injured lover. The garage door stays open, but the silence is unnerving, so I walk over and open the Phoenix’s door.
“Not now, princess,” he says, his voice hoarse.
“Are you blaming him or yourself?”
He says nothing, which means it’s probably a little bit of both. I reach for him, and he startles a little when I lay my hand on his arm, but when I trail my fingers down to his, he doesn’t pull away. He turns his palm, which is stained with streaks of James’ blood, and he lets me link our fingers together.
“You don’t have to talk about it, but you need to get out of this car,” I tell him, tugging gently.
He twists, and his legs drop to the garage floor with a loud click of his shoes. He doesn’t have his cane, and I can’t see it anywhere in the car, so he either lost it or left it behind. He digshis fingers into my bicep just shy of too hard, but I ignore the sting as I lead him toward the front of the house. It’ll be quicker to get to the med room that way.
“I need to,” he says, his voice stuttering. He takes a breath. “My hands are filthy. I can feel the—” He stops again.
The blood, he means.
I make a detour to the downstairs bathroom and lean against the door as he starts to scrub under water that gets increasingly hotter. “Giving yourself scalding burns is only going to take attention away from James,” I tell him, leaning past him to adjust the temperature.
He bows his head and growls something I can’t make out. Then suddenly, he’s got me by the throat, pinning me to the door. He looks fucking feral, and it’s the first time I’ve been actually afraid of him—actually afraid he’ll snap and hurt me.
Maybe he realizes this because his grip eases, and he breathes out. “I can’t…it’s…”
“I know,” I tell him. I wrap my fingers around his wrist and let him hold his grip against my neck because I think it lets him feel more in control, and I’m happy to give him that. “He’s in good hands.”
“He’s not that hurt,” Phoenix says after a moment. His grip turns to gentle stroking, fingertips trailing under my chin, then down to my collarbone. He leans in and buries his face in my neck, inhaling so hard his chest expands. “It was terrifying to be out there and unable to see what was happening when I heard the shots. I’m not sure I was ready.”
I bury my hand in his hair as he mouths along my shoulder like he just needs to be touching me and kissing me in some way. “You don’t have to be ready for that, you know. There are other things you can do for this family.”
He laughs and shakes his head. “Unless I confine myself to the house, shit like this will happen. This mission was to trackLeo, not to get into a fucking gunfight.” He pulls back, and I look at those gorgeous, painted irises, and I wonder what his eyes used to look like. I’ve seen a handful of pictures, but that’s all they are—just an echo of what was. “I felt helpless.”
“I know the feeling,” I say instead of telling him some bullshit platitude about how it’ll get easier, or he’ll get better. I don’t actually know if that’s the case.
Phoenix has terrifying amounts of skill at things, and I know in familiar situations, he could take care of anyone. But he’s blind. Completely. Totally. And the world out there isn’t built for people like him, and I know that men like Guido and Marco can and will take advantage of that.
And there will be men a lot smarter than those two who will get ideas. Men like Leo knows who can match Phoenix in his tech skills.
“Kiss me,” he says, interrupting my thoughts.
I do, but I keep it chaste because my stomach’s still roiling a little bit, and I wouldn’t survive the humiliation of vomiting down his front.
“Princess?”
“Not feeling so hot,” I tell him.
His grip on me changes. One hand moves to my hip, the other pressing against my stomach. “Darling.” It always sounds strange, that name, when it’s lacking James’ accent. But I don’t hate it. “Why didn’t you say something?”
I laugh, the sound hollow. “Because James was shot, and you’re in crisis, and mine’s just some baby thing.”
“It’s not just a thing,” he says, rubbing his hand over the tiny swell.
I want to melt against him, but now’s not the time. “We can agree to disagree. For now, we should probably go check on James.”
Phoenix huffs quietly, then hooks a finger under my chin and tilts my head up so he can kiss me again. I lose myself in the warm sensation of his lips and tongue, and I’m a little dazed when he finally pulls away. He takes my hand instead of my arm, then leads the way, trailing his fingers along the wall as he follows the familiar path of the house to where they’re keeping our wayward lover.
James is fine.He’s pissed and grumbling, but ultimately, he’s more annoyed about being put in the bed and given fluids than he is about being shot. I think it’s something I might get pissed about if I wasn’t feeling like total ass, but instead of bitching at him, I curl up in the narrow hospital-style bed and wrap my arm around him.