“The internal investigation?”
“The department and I are copacetic on Senor Vicente.”
“I’m glad, Ryan. It was a good shoot.”
Nurse K came in to check my IV.
“Where’s Galiano,” I asked when she’d left.
The flicker of a frown.
“He’ll be by.”
Ryan snugged an arm under my shoulders, pulled me to him, and laid his cheek on the top of my head.
I felt a comfortable warmth flood over me.
“When I saw you lying on that floor last night, next to a gun and a body, I was overcome by a great sense of loss.”
I was too surprised to speak. Perhaps the best course. Whatever I said would probably be wrong.
“I realized something.”
Ryan’s voice sounded odd. He pressed my head to his chest.
“Or maybe I just finally admitted it to myself.”
Ryan nuzzled my hair.
What? Admitted what?
“Tempe—”
His voice faltered.
Ohmygod! Was he going to use the L word?
Ryan cleared his throat.
“I’ve seen too much of the underside of life to have much confidence in people. I don’t really believe in happy endings.” I felt him swallow. “But I’ve come to believe in you.”
He settled me back on the pillows and kissed my forehead.
“We need to rethink where we are with each other.”
I wanted to talk, to pursue this line of thought. My eyelids wouldn’t cooperate.
“Think about it.” Cornflower eyes pierced straight to my soul.
You bet.
The next time I woke, Mateo and Elena were peering down at me. Elena’s face was so wrinkled with worry she looked like a sharpei.
“How are you?”
“Right as rain.”
Mateo and I laughed. It hurt like hell.
“What’s so funny?”
“Something Molly said.”
They assured me the Chupan Ya work was proceeding well, told me the villagers were planning a funeral. Mateo had just spoken with Molly. She was barreling toward full recovery.
Again, hard as I tried, I couldn’t stay awake.
Galiano was the next phantom to appear by my bed.
With flowers.
The place was taking on the air of a funeral parlor.
“You were right-on about the attack on your colleagues.”
“Molly and Carlos?”
Galiano gave a nod. He looked as well-groomed as Ryan.
“Jorge Serano’s copped to that hit.”
“Why them?” I asked.
“Mistaken identity. Lucas sent Serano after you. He wanted to disrupt the recovery team by knocking off the headliner. He thought that was you.”
A cold, sick feeling swirled in my chest. Guilt? Sorrow? Anger?
“Why disrupt the work at Chupan Ya?”
Galiano gave a half shrug. “Lucas didn’t want to lose his firewall.”
“Diaz.”
