No longer numb, she pressed her face to his neck and wept. She cried for Rigo and for her mother, for lost chances and broken dreams. And then she cried for herself. “I love you,” she said, unable to hold her feelings back.
His body tensed. “I love you, too.”
She lifted her head, staring up at him in teary-eyed wonder. “Are you saying that because you thought I was going to die?”
He smiled. “No. What about you? Do you mean it this time?”
“Yes,” she said, sniffling. “But I meant it last time.”
Blinking away his own emotions, he cupped his hand behind her neck and brought her head back to his chest. “I know,” he said, holding her there, cherished and safe, sheltered in the strength of his arms.
Sonny opened her eyes, aware of a man’s presence in the small room. Grant’s face wavered into focus, concern etched on his features.
“I didn’t mean to wake you.”
Sonny glanced at the clock beside the hospital bed. Several hours had gone by since they’d returned to the mainland. In the minutes following JT’s death, local and federal investigation units had converged on the scene. The Coast Guard’s rescue helicopter had been deemed unnecessary, but James was rushed to Scripps Hospital in a snazzy-looking Harbor Police powerboat. Carly insisting on accompanying him, so Ben had gone with her, casting Sonny an apologetic glance over his shoulder.
Stephen had wanted to go, too, but because he’d been the one to pull the trigger, he hadn’t been allowed to leave the scene of the crime.
Sonny had debriefed Staff Sergeant Paula DeGrassi, explaining that Stephen had been acting in self-defense and giving her sworn statement. After speaking with Grant via satellite phone, Sonny had excused herself politely, taken a few steps away from the crowd of officers aboard
Apparently, she’d needed more than air. Ac cording to the nice doctors at Scripps, she had two fractured ribs and suffered some internal bruising. She’d been poked and prodded, her midsection wrapped up tight as a drum. One of those pokes must have included a dose of pain medication, because sometime between then and now, she’d closed her eyes, and Grant had arrived from Virginia.
“Sorry,” she murmured, wincing at the pull in her sore ribs as she straightened.
“For what? Getting hurt?”
She nodded, although she’d been apologizing for falling asleep, as ridiculous as that seemed. “It’s nothing,” she said, minimizing her injury. “You didn’t have to come back.”
Hurt registered on his face. “What kind of boss would I be if I didn’t care about the welfare of my agents?”
Tears filled her eyes, because the relationship between them went deeper than employer-employee. He was the closest thing to a father she’d ever had, and they both knew it. “Sorry,” she said again, this time for getting sentimental.
He cleared his throat, not unaffected by the exchange. “Homicide found a pile of evidence in JT’s locker on Shelter Island. Photos of the victims, personal items, electrical cord…”
Sonny nodded. She hadn’t doubted JT’s guilt for an instant.
“It’s better than a signed confession,” he said gruffly. “Good work.”
Coming from a tight-lipped taskmaster like Grant, it was fine praise indeed. She fairly glowed with pride.
“About your review…”
The warm fuzzies left as quickly as they’d come.
“I’m thinking we’ll postpone it for now,” he continued, surprising her. “You haven’t taken any leave time in a while, and with your injuries, I recommend you do so. Six months down the road, or a year, when this whole thing blows over…”
She frowned at him. “You’re not turning me in to Internal Affairs?”
His expression was deliberately blank. “For what?”
“And Mitchell?” she asked, caution warring with giddiness. “Will he talk?”
“Leave Special Agent Mitchell to me,” Grant replied, eyes narrow.
Gratitude washed over her. “Thank you,” she said, reaching out to grab the front of his shirt. Ignoring the pain in her side, she pulled him close for an impulsive hug. “Thank you so much.”
While he tolerated her embrace, only a little less stiffly than he had before, she noticed the outline of another figure standing in the hall.
Grant lifted his head, following her gaze.
Instead of coming in, Ben hesitated outside the doorway, a gift-store bouquet of flowers in one hand and a wary expression on his handsome face.
As Grant straightened, he looked back and forth between them, understanding and acceptance in his intelligent gray eyes. Sometimes he knew her better than she knew herself. “You aren’t going to be working with me much longer, are you?”
Tears welled up again. “No,” she whispered.
If he was disappointed, he didn’t show it. Maybe this was what he’d hoped for her all along. To love herself, and someone else, enough to want to live past the age of thirty. “DeGrassi’s looking for an FBI liaison to San Diego Homicide.”
She swallowed. “You would approve of the transfer?”
He nodded slowly. When she leaned forward to hug him again, he held up a hand. “Please. Your young man already wants to rip me to shreds.”
Laughter bubbled from her throat. She was so happy, her ribs didn’t even hurt. With one last good-bye and a respectful nod at Ben, Grant was gone.
“Can I come in?” Ben asked.
Sonny leaned back against the pillows. “Of course,” she said, making a murmur of thanks when he set the bouquet on the nightstand. “How’s James?”
“Fine,” he said with a snort. “Eating pudding.”
“And Carly?”
“Won’t leave his side.”
She smiled at his affronted tone. After Carly’s near-death experience, Ben probably wanted to hold his daughter close, but Carly was more interested in making eyes at James.
“Yes,” Ben said, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “He’s in the lobby, shivering. They offered him a sedative but he wouldn’t take it. I think he’s detoxing.”
Sonny wondered how long her half-brother’s sobriety would last. Getting clean was a hard row to hoe alone. “Maybe you could sponsor him.”
“You mean, pay for rehab?”
“That would be nice, but he might be too proud to accept your money. It wouldn’t cost anything to take him to a few meetings.”
Ben appeared to consider the idea, and although he didn’t make any promises, neither did he refuse outright. “You didn’t tell me you were hurt,” he said, changing the subject.
“Bumps and bruises,” she claimed.
He didn’t believe her for a second. “I’ve had broken ribs before. You won’t be able to take care of yourself.”
“Are you offering to nurse me back to health?” She’d been playing coy, but when he nodded, his eyes dark with intensity, her heart swelled with love for him. “It just so happens that I have some leave time,” she said. “I’ve been thinking I’d like to laze about on the beach for a few weeks, admire your cutback.”
He wasn’t fooled by her lighthearted banter. “Is that all we have? A few weeks?”
“Actually, I-”
“Never mind,” he interrupted. “It doesn’t matter.”
She blinked in confusion. “It doesn’t?”
“Not really,” he said, meeting her eyes. “After Olivia died, I’d have given anything to have one more day, one more hour, one more
