My hand hits more wetness than I expect and I frown, then pull back and look at my fingers. A red streak coats my fingertips and I jolt upright.
“Shit, Mason! You’re bleeding!”
He laughs. “Sweetness, I told you—you’re a wildcat. But I love it. It’s only a few scratches. I’ll live.”
But he’s bleeding. I can’t just leave him like that. I climb off the bed and dart into the bathroom, closing the door to use the toilet before I do anything else. I almost regret wiping him from between my legs, but he’ll get other chances to mess me up again. I quickly clean up and wash my hands, then grab a fresh washcloth and wet it with hot water.
“On your belly,” I command when I emerge back into the bedroom.
Mason stares at me with eyebrows raised. “You talk to all your patients that way, Doc?”
I scowl and turn on the bedside light. “I’m not used to making people bleed who aren’t actually on the operating table. Forgive me if I want to clean you up.”
With a low laugh, he obeys, settling on his stomach. In the light, I can finally get a good look at his tattoos. His back is a swath of inked wonder with the most glorious, elaborate tattoo of a koi fish swimming up his spine.
I stop short, my breath leaving me in a rush.
Because I know this back. I know this tattoo. And I am intimately acquainted with the long scar that extends several inches straight down his spine between his T6 and T9 vertebrae.
I know, because I watched that cut get made three years ago. I still have the bullet that was lodged beneath.
19 Mason
Callie goes so still and silent that for a second I worry she got spooked again and left. Then she begins to dab a hot washcloth at her claw marks and lets out a shuddering breath.
“I think I just figured out one of your secrets, Mason. Or is it J.J. Santos?”
A shiver courses down my body at my old name and I close my eyes, taking a deep breath to steady myself.
“I wondered if you’d remember. You didn’t recognize me at the hospital on Monday. I thought you must have forgotten.”
“Do you wish I had? Because I may forget the occasional patient’s name after all this time, but I could never forget you. You were my first surgery as a resident. And then you . . .” Her breath hitches, and her next words are so shaky they reach straight into my chest and clench at my heart. “Then you fucking died.”
Her voice is filled with so much pain I turn onto my side to face her. My heart clenches at the tears in her eyes. Without a word, I pull her down against me, encircling her in my arms.
“I didn’t die. I’m here with you. I’m here.”
“What the hell happened to you? I tried to find out, but there wasn’t a damn thing in your medical records to give me a clue, and my attending wasn’t very forthcoming. Can you tell me? Or is it top secret?”
She peers up at me through wet lashes, one tear trickling down her cheek. I lean in and kiss it away, then look into her eyes again. “I never forgot you, either. But it’s a long fucking story.”
“Well, I have all night.” Her tone is insistent, and I sigh, then urge her up.
“Okay, but let’s at least get comfortable.”
She nods, and we climb under the covers. Once beneath, she presses tight against me again, her soft, warm skin heaven where it slides against mine. Her hand glides across my chest, stopping at the thick scar that extends down my sternum. She traces it, then leans up on one arm to look down at me.
“Jesus, it really is you. I knew there was something off about that whole situation. You were stable when I left you that night. What the hell happened?”
I debate how much I should share, but when she looks into my eyes, pleading for answers, I know I’d give this woman everything if I could. So I let it all out—my discharge from the Navy; working with Gustavo on the gun deals, followed by my accidental betrayal; my brother’s ties to Arturo Flores, and then my own redemption offered by the same man after he spirited me away from the hospital late that night three years ago.
“Marcella is your mother!” Callie exclaims after my description of the night I came into her emergency room—the night we first met. “You should be with her. With your family. Not here with me.”
“Sweetness, I’m right the fuck where I want to be. You said yourself that Mom’s in good hands. I trust you. Besides, she still thinks I’m dead. They all do, except Mad Dog and Flores. I can’t go back for good until I take care of things. I have to finish this assignment.”
“What is the assignment?” she asks.
I stroke her shoulder without answering, because starting down that path leads to too many things I’m not ready to say out loud. “I can’t . . .” I wince, hating the idea of leaving her unsatisfied.
“It’s okay,” she says softly. “I should know better than to ask. My family . . .” She pauses as she rubs lightly at my scar, then heaves a sigh. A pained look crosses her face before she says, “I just want to know you’ll be safe. That’s all.”
I’m sure she was about to say more, but I’m not exactly being the most forthcoming with secrets. I just tilt her chin up and kiss her tenderly.
“I can’t tell you everything, but I won’t lie and say it’s not dangerous. But if everything plays out the way I hope this week, I’ll be free and clear soon. In the meantime . . .” I swallow as a crazy idea floats to the front of my mind. Callie lifts an eyebrow, so I dive
