Emma didn’t care about anything except getting to her lover.
Blaze pushed unsteadily his feet, face twisted in anger or pain. He tackled a nearby soldier and snapped his neck, divesting the fallen enemy of his rifle.
Emma picked off a goon who was taking aim at Blaze, and then he saw her. His eyes widened, and he aimed to her right, taking out a soldier who’d drawn down on her. She felt a stinging in her arm but paid it no attention. Her objective was to get to Blaze, fight at his side.
Her team as well as the others were busy vanquishing the opposition in other areas, and even a man as skilled as hers could take on only so many alone.
Halfway to her destination, a man in fatigues raised his rifle. Took aim at Blaze’s heart.
Legs pumping, she charged, yelling. The man spun, but he was too late. She pumped his chest full of lead and kept coming, not stopping until she reached her lover’s side. They fought back to back until the last traitor fell and all that could be heard was a random burst of gunfire as their teams cleaned house.
“My God, baby,” he panted, spinning her to face him. Throwing down his rifle, he shook her hard. “You’ve been shot!”
Numbly, she studied her upper arm. “It’s a scratch.”
“A scratch! Dammit, what the hell are you doing here? Why would you put yourself in danger?”
“You know why,” she managed, tears threatening. She’d been holding them back for endless hours, and they spilled over. “I love you. You’d have done the same for me.”
His anger melted, and he crushed her to his chest, holding her tight. “Damned right. But don’t ever do it again.”
“Can’t promise that.”
“Stubborn woman. My sub is supposed to do as I say, you know.” His voice was fading, fast.
“Not when it comes to a situation like this. Forget it.”
“You will do as I…” He swayed and his knees buckled.
“Blaze!” She lowered him to the ground, laying him on his back. In the heat of battle, she hadn’t noticed that his shirt and pants were dark with blood. His face was pale and his breathing was harsh. As she moved around him to check his leg, she saw his blistered feet and stifled a cry. “What did they do to you, honey? Talk to me.”
“I’ll be fine,” he said, eyes drifting shut. “Lan?”
She searched around to find Lan sitting on the ground not far away, wrapped in Nicole’s arms. Something told her that Lan would forgive his lady for holding out on being an FBI agent.
“He’s okay, I think. Nicole’s taking care of him.” No response. “Honey?”
Bastian squatted beside her, concern etched on his face. But his tone was reassuring. “He’ll be all right. I’ll make sure of it. You did good, Emma.”
“Thank you.” Tears filled her eyes. “He’s been through so much. I can’t lose him now.”
“You won’t. Nobody is losing anybody they love. Not today, or ever if I can help it,” he said firmly.
She nodded, and she had to wonder whether he was referring to Michael as well.
“Did we get Dietz?” she asked suddenly. His jaw clenched, and deadly anger lit his eyes.
“The teams are searching, but it looks like he got away. I swear if it’s the last thing I do, I’ll put him in his grave,” he seethed. “I just got word, however, that Kosta, Meyer, and Major Fontaine have been apprehended by two of our teams. Kosta and Meyer were packing, presumably to leave the country, and Fontaine was in his office, oblivious.”
“Good, I hope they rot in prison. The weapon?”
“Secure, thank God. I’ve already contacted the president, and he’s dispatching a detail to retrieve it as we speak.”
That, at least, was one major victory. When Blaze was better, she knew they’d feel proud to have played a part in locating the bomb and saving so many lives.
But that was another day. For now she wanted nothing more than to see him open his eyes and smile, reassure her that he was fine.
The medical team rushed over and worked on him for a few minutes, attaching an IV and checking his vitals. Finally, they declared him stable and ready to transport. She was right behind them.
A stick of dynamite wasn’t going to blast her from his side.
Blaze emerged from his safe, warm cocoon even though he didn’t want to. It was fuzzy and nice here. Quiet and sleepy.
A voice kept droning around him, though. Wouldn’t let him remain in limbo. A woman’s voice, familiar. Suddenly he longed to investigate but couldn’t think why. He struggled to surface from underwater, and it was harder than he imagined.
Open his eyes. That’s what he had to do, but it seemed impossible.
“Come on, Blaze. Wakey-wakey.”
Huh?
“Nap time is over, big guy. Let me see those pretty eyes of yours.”
Okay. He really wasn’t one for naps anyhow, couldn’t fathom why he’d want one now that he’d heard such a pretty voice. Probably had a pretty face attached.
After significantly more effort, his lids eased open and he blinked to clear his vision. His eyeballs were gritty, but he made out a form hovering over him. A blond woman. With long hair where there should be short.
“Emma?”
“Welcome back, sweetie!” Her joy was apparent, and it made him smile.
Or he thought it did. His face seemed to be broken or something.
“I’m back? Where’d I go?”
She laughed and sniffled at the same time. Women were weird with the emotional stuff.
“You were in surgery to remove a bullet from your thigh. The one in your shoulder went clean through, so they closed you up. You’re going to be fine.”
“Bullets?”
“Don’t you remember? You were shot while being captured by Dietz’s men, and then they beat you. Burned your feet, too. You need to stay off them for a few days.”
“Oh.” His scrambled brain tried to remember.
“Don’t worry — it’s the drugs,” she assured him, kissing his cheek. “You’re still trying to wake up. I’ll probably have to repeat all of this later.”
“Will you repeat that you love me?”
“You bet. Every minute.”
“Will you say yes — that you want to marry me and get our own house together?”
“You know I will, if that’s what you really want. I love you, sir.”
Now
“I love you, too, baby.”
Smiling, he let himself float into sleep once more, safe and secure in the four little words he’d waited a lifetime to hear.
Seventeen
Blaze picked at the bedcovers, fidgety. Restless. “I want to go home.”
Emma glanced up from the magazine she’d been thumbing through and smiled. Damn, that smile always made his heart trip.
