Fuuuuuck.
Every muscle in my body aches.
I try to roll over, hating sleeping on my back, but I can’t even lift my arm.
A garbled sound comes out of my throat. My mouth feels too dry.
“Keep it down,” a masculine voice says quietly beside me.
I force my eyes to open. The room is dim, but bright enough that I can see the golden-flecked eyes staring down at me.
They’re familiar but the wrong ones.
“Where?” I croak.
“You’re in the hospital,” King tells me, like I’m a fucking moron.
“Where is Val?” My words are barely audible, so I hope he can hear me call him an idiot in my mind.
He tips his head toward me. “She’s finally asleep.”
Then I feel it. The warm body against my side.
I make my head turn. And there she is. On my left side, her face pressed against my shoulder. Her hair pulled back. Her eyes closed in sleep.
My top half is bare, so everywhere she touches is skin. There’s a thin blanket from my waist down, but her thighs are flush against the side of my leg. Like she tried to touch as much of me as possible.
I lift my right arm to reach across and touch her and have to bite down on the groan that tries to break free at the movement.
King’s big hand presses my shoulder back down. “Stay still. You got out of surgery like an hour ago.”
I don’t have the strength to fight against his hold, so I settle for staring at Valentine’s beautiful face. “Is she okay?”
“She’s fine.”
“What time is it?”
“Four a.m.,” King tells me. “The hit was about twelve hours ago.”
“I’ll live?” I ask, assuming that I will but wanting to be sure.
“Seems like it. Just a nicked artery and two cracked ribs—one for each bullet.” King shakes his head. “Only took a few stitches and a bathtub full of new blood, but you should be fine.”
“And my men?” My gaze follows the slope of Val’s nose. Another question I already know the answer to.
“Gone.”
My eyes close.
I told my family no one else would die. And now I’m a liar.
There was only one man in each of the vehicles, but that’s three more deaths on my back.
“But the crew that hit you…” King pauses. “They’re all dead. All fucking twenty-four of them.”
My eyes open. Twenty-four men. “How?” How are we even alive at all?
“Well, from what I heard on the phone, Val took out a handful.”
My head jerks back to look at King, making my neck muscles strain. “She did what?”
King sits back in the uncomfortable visitor’s chair. “She’s a bit of a sharpshooter. Taught her myself.” He looks way too smug. “Finally know something about her that you don’t. Feels kinda nice.”
“Fucker.”
“As for the rest…” King shrugs. “No clue who the fuck showed up, but someone did.”
“What—” My throat is so scratchy I can’t finish the sentence, and I tip my head toward my water on the side table.
We don’t make eye contact as King holds up the cup with the long, bendy straw while I carefully take a sip.
“Thanks,” I say as I drop my head back against the pillow.
“Don’t mention it. Please.”
I almost smile at King’s dry tone. “So who saved our asses if it wasn’t you?”
“We don’t know. Val said a man had his crosshairs on her when an army of women appeared out of nowhere and mowed down the entire enemy force.”
I blink at him. “Women?”
King gives me a slow nod. “And one man.”
I blink again. “Who in the fuck are you talking about?”
“Like I said, not a fucking clue. But the guy apparently field dressed you and saved your stupid ass, and now you owe him a life debt.”
I let my eyes close. “Great.”
“But we know who’s after you.”
My head nods. “I know, too.”
“And what are we going to do about it?” King asks me.
We.
“We’re going to delete them from the history books.”
“When?”
I let my lungs fill. “Three days.”
“What do you need me to do?”
“I need a plane full of men who are good with their hands.”
“We going to them?”
I nod. “We’re going to Colombia.”
Using the last of my energy, I ignore all my protesting body parts and roll onto my side, wrapping my arm and leg over Valentine, holding her close.
