Fifty thousand dollars in exchange for three weeks of sheer commitment and consented submission. It was a simple proposal from the employer to an employee until feelings got in the way.
Being a college student and the legal guardian of her two sibli...
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Once a killer, always a killer. It was the last thing I could think of when I carried her in my arms, feeling her pain tearing through me with her breath shaking to uneven rhythms. She muttered my name several times, although very faintly, I still couldn't do a thing to undo the damage.
I couldn't take her pain away, and neither her fear that felt palpable through her eyes nor the innocent blood pouring in rivulets from her wound until I ordered her to keep putting pressure on it using my jacket that I had pressed against it.
And everything is my fault! I shouldn't have brought her here.
If only I kept my distance from her and held my desire checked, she'd be in Las Vegas living her life as peaceful as she used to before. Whatever the fuck had me think I could ever lead a normal life and do all the normal stuff normal people do was nothing but a whimsical moment of mulishness.
The door strips open. Dr. Dallas steps out with a beat-up expression on his wrinkled face while breaking the plastic gloves off his hands. My heart leaps but I bite the sting as a man should. I rush over, ready to hear something that's not bad news after the devastating thirty minutes of waiting.
"Tough cookie she is. She'll live," he says with a wry smile.
A warm breath emits from my lips.
I've never been more reprieved and I don't regret having her bullet removed right here. It would've been a hell of a risk driving her with how quickly things spiraled. The hospital is a mile away, and a chopper would've taken a round of waiting and patience was precisely what I didn't possess by then.
"Any complications?" I fix Dallas' gaze for a satirical response.
His shoulders slouch as he sighs a bit dramatically. "Nothing fatal. Not even a vital scratch. Lucky one—she'll heal soon enough," he explains and it feels like a balm for my inner soreness. "She needs aftercare, though, if you know what I mean."
I know what he means. She must be admitted to a decent hospital. She's not like him or me, or my brothers and all other men with guns outside.
"The chopper will be here soon. I'm taking her back to New York City," I say, more to myself as I'm stung by the idea of staying here a night longer.
Even though I still have unfinished business here which, for now, can wait.
Falcon can wait.
"Great. Do I need to tag along?" he asks.
"By all means," I answer
Dallas is an ex-military surgeon who's encountered far worse emergencies in war zones back in his days. I've known to trust his skills through his years of service to the family in our black operations. He and Roberto are good old friends linked by the Pentagon. I'm more grateful he was here today.
"Alright, let's get this done." He digs his fingers into my shoulder, squeezing it as he skates around me. "Oh, I put her to a beauty sleep so it should be smooth."
