If only

room.

Endless corridors later, he opened a hospital door and guided her inside.

Vance lay in the bed. Under his dark tan, his color was almost gray.

Her feet froze in place on the ugly linoleum floor. But after an eternity, his chest rose and fell. He was sleeping. She clenched her hands as she fought the need to wake him, to know—know —that he was alive.

“Sit there,” Master Z murmured and gently pushed her down in a chair by the bed. “Galen should be up in a minute.”

“He’s coming.” Dan and Kari walked into the room. “He wouldn’t let them admit him,” Dan grumbled. “Wouldn’t even accept the loan of a wheelchair. Stubborn bastard.”

Finally Galen came in, leaning heavily on an ugly metal cane, and Sally rushed to his side. She started to grab him, remembered the stitches, and—ever so carefully—put her arms around him.

He snorted. “I’m not as fragile as all that, pet.” After leaning his cane against the foot of the bed, he pulled her into him. His arms were the same iron bars she remembered, his chest muscular, his body ever so solid. Z might be a refuge, but here was her home. “Sally?”

She was unable to release him, unable to talk. Every word thickened in her throat and clogged it. Her shaking returned, starting in her belly and moving outward. He could have died.

“Shhh.” His cheek rested on the top of her head.

“Want to sit?” Dan asked him.

Galen’s arms tightened. “No. I just need to hold her. Came too close to losing her. To losing them both.”

Oh, she knew. She knew. He smelled of antiseptic, of sweat and blood, of danger and death and life, and she fully intended to relax her grip—in a year or two.

“If you’re going to have a party in my room, I expect alcohol.” Vance’s voice sounded as if he’d dragged it over the gravel road to their house.

“I believe I have that covered,” Z said. Everyone in the room looked at him. “Dan mentioned your aversion to pain meds, so I brought a different kind of a sedative. Although, I have to say, the pills are more effective.”

Galen shrugged. “I’m not hurt that bad, and I have reports to fill out and imps to hold.”

“Better be only one imp you’re hugging, Sir,” Sally muttered into his chest and heard his huff of a laugh.

“I don’t like being blurry after action,” Vance said to Master Z, sounding so irritable that he might win the Master Grumpy Pants title from Galen. “They always give me too much.”

Galen kissed her head. “Someone else needs a hug, pet,” he said under his breath.

Just what she’d longed to do…if she could find an uninjured place on his body. “Only if you’ll sit down,” Sally answered and got a nod in return.

She moved to the bed, put down the railing, and slid her hip next to Vance’s. Then she waited for permission.

“God, yes,” he muttered and reached for her.

His big hands closed on her shoulders, and he pulled her down onto his chest. When his arm wrapped around her as if he’d never let her go, she nestled her head in the hollow of his shoulder and sighed in contentment.

She could hear the almost inaudible sound of his matching sigh.

Galen limped over to the chair, shoved it closer to the bed, and sank into it. “You all right, bro?” he asked Vance.

“Hurts like a son of a bitch, but any gunfight you walk away from is a good one.”

“Ayuh.”

Sally wanted to smack them both. Her voice came out tight as she said, “How about you stay out of gunfights in the future, okay?”

There was silence, not the instant agreement she was hoping for. Instead, Vance asked, “The woman Somerfeld had with him—she going to be all right?”

“Eventually.”

Sally lifted her head and saw Galen’s jaw tighten as he continued, “A long eventually. But her husband and parents are on their way here.”

Sally remembered the woman’s blank stare and sent off a prayer. Please, help her heal.

“Hand me that, please?” Master Z said to someone. A second later came the distinctive sound of a champagne cork. “Galen. Vance. Since your doctors said you both refused pain meds, you can substitute this…if we can keep the nurses from finding out. Kitten, can you locate the glasses?”

Jessica was here? Sally lifted her head and saw more Shadowlands people had entered. Dressed in pale green slacks and top that brought color to the ugly room, Jessica was handing Z something from a sack. Master Cullen occupied one wall, and Andrea leaned against him. Marcus and Gabi must have come from the tournament. Nolan had an arm slung around Beth, who pressed into his side. Kari stood in front of Dan with his arm crossing her chest, keeping her back against his chest.

And they were all smiling and accepting drinks.

When Z handed a glass to Vance, Sally sat up and accepted one from Jessica. “What’s the celebration?” she asked.

Master Z held up his plastic stemmed glass. “To the end of the Harvest Association. Well done, gentlemen.”

As the hearty chorus of agreement echoed around the room, Vance stared at them.

Galen’s face held the same stunned look. “Yes.” His lips tilted up. “You’re right. That really was the last one.” He lifted his glass in the toast and took a sip. Blinked. “Now that’s champagne.” He took another sip and took the bottle from Z’s hand to examine the label. “Blanc des Millenaires? You do us proud.”

“You’ve earned it.” Z took the bottle and refilled Galen’s glass. “Enjoy. You’re staying with Dan and Kari tonight—and Dan is driving.”

“Got it all planned out, eh?” Galen gave Z a narrow look. “Thank you, Mama.”

Into the stunned silence of the submissives, Z smiled and answered, “You’re welcome, my boy.”

The room broke up with laughter, but Sally didn’t join in. “I want to go home,” she whispered. She wanted her own room, her bed, her…stuff.

Vance had heard her. “Aside from being a crime scene, there’s blood and glass all over. And it needs to air out. You and Galen need to stay somewhere else tonight.”

To lose the hope of going home felt like having a Band-Aid ripped off. With an unhappy sigh, she took a sip of her drink. Okay, it really was good champagne.

Galen frowned. “We need to get the place cleaned up before—”

“I sent a crew,” Nolan interrupted in his usual no-bullshit manner. “They’ll fix the window.”

Galen said, “But—”

“Andrea recommended a trauma and crime scene cleaning service,” Cullen cut in, hugging his sub who ran a normal cleaning business. “They’ll be out there as soon as the police give them clearance.”

Vance stared. “You—”

Seeing the Feds’ surprise, Sally hid her grin against Vance’s shoulder. Her poor Doms had no idea what happened when a Shadowlands Master—or submissive—needed help.

“Gabi and I swung by and managed to coax Glock into a carrier,” Marcus said.

“Boy, I use insults…but nothing like a cat in a foul mood.” Gabi rolled her eyes. “It’s a good thing Marcus doesn’t speak feline, since your cat started with, ‘Rat-turd human, if I throw a stick, will you leave?’ and descended to, ‘Chicken-butt human, you’re so ugly, Hello Kitty said good-bye to you.’”

Sally could just see Glock with his tail twitching and hissing out insults. As she giggled, laughter swept around the room.

Galen’s deep laugh turned into a groan, and he pressed his hand over his ribs where that bastard Somerfeld had kicked him. Horribly hard.