"You're out of ammo, Eve!" Buchanan called, tears of hysteria tainting his voice, the sound of his footsteps coming closer. "But I promise you I'm going to make this quick. I do love you, you know?" And Bill still had just enough faculties left to realize the man was s.h.i.thouse crazy. And one h.e.l.l of an actor. He'd fooled them all. "But I have to look out for myself! I've always had to look out for myself! You wouldn't understand what it's like to-"

Bill stopped listening because he felt something cool press against his shoulder. He slid his eyes to the side. And even though his vision was almost completely shot, he recognized the outline of his snubbie.

He choked on a sob of relief. And then there was only one piece of advice he had left to give her. "Don't hesitate."

He felt her nod more than he saw it. And he heard her throat stick when she swallowed.

As the sound of footsteps loomed louder, closer, he tried not to cough, tried not to wheeze, tried to keep as quiet as possible so Eve could hear the instant Jeremy rounded the front of the truck.

And then, it happened. He felt Eve's arm jerk up, heard the subtle click of the trigger right before a shot echoed out over the parking lot. It was followed immediately by a second. Then, silence...

He couldn't see what had happened. There was nothing but blackness now. But, in the next instant, he heard Eve drop the pistol to the ground, felt her lean over him as she was wracked by hard, wet sobs, and he knew. It was over. She'd won.

Relief slid through him on a warm, golden wave. Relief and love and...acquiescence.

Shh, he wanted to tell her when her hot tears fell on his face, when her cries rang in his ears. It's okay, now. I love you, and you're going to be okay. But he'd lost the ability to speak. The Reaper was close now. He could feel the b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Could feel him pulling and tugging. And when the distant sound of sirens reached his ears, accompanied by the gentle mutter of an overhead helicopter, he knew she was safe.

So...he let go...

Chapter Twenty-six.

Northwestern Memorial Hospital Friday, 3:03 p.m.

He wasn't dead...

There were times since he first regained consciousness yesterday when the pain was so intense he wished he was dead. But then he'd look over at Eve in the armchair beside his bed-he'd been told by the night nurse that she hadn't left his side since the moment he came out of surgery-and he'd remember just how much he had to live for.

Eve...Beautiful, courageous, wonderful Eve...

She loved him, and he loved her, and as soon as he got out of this G.o.dd.a.m.ned hospital bed, he was going to show her just how much he loved her. Show her again and again. In very inventive and enthusiastic ways. A smiled curved his lips just thinking of it. Because if that wasn't enough to have him happily suffering through the pain-if thoughts of getting Eve naked and sweaty wasn't reason enough to fight to heal-then he didn't know what was.

He glanced over now, expecting to find her curled up sleeping or reading. But she wasn't there. Instead his sister Becky was sitting cross-legged in the chair, frowning at the screen of her cell phone, her fingers fiddling with the end of the blonde ponytail draped over her shoulder. His eyes darted to the couch at the far end of the room. But Eve wasn't there either. It was his brother-in-law, the esteemed leader of BKI. Frank "Boss" Knight had stretched his significant bulk out on the sofa, his big biker boots were dangling over the arm, and he was flipping through the latest issue of American Rider.

Bill moved his hand, trying to get Becky's attention. Then he remembered, vaguely, through the hazy cloud of delicious, delicious pain meds, that he'd been taken off the ventilator earlier. So, he could actually talk. Licking his lips, he opened his mouth and asked, "Where's Eve?"

Or at least that's what he tried to say. In all reality, it sounded more like, "Wheh Eh?" followed by a series of painful, wheezing coughs.

And d.a.m.n his throat hurt like he'd been swallowing gla.s.s, not to mention his mouth was so dry he wondered if they'd been packing the sucker with gauze for some inexplicable reason. Becky's head jerked up, and she jumped to her feet. Boss catapulted himself from the sofa with a grace that was shocking for such a big man.

"Billy!" Becky squealed, grabbing his hand. "My G.o.d! You're talking!"

Yeah, if two incomprehensible syllables counted as "talking." Naturally, he'd probably be able to do a little better if his mouth wasn't so G.o.dd.a.m.ned dry. Licking his lips, he tried again. Only this time, he said, "Wah-tah."

He frowned, wondering if that was at all understandable. Then, he smiled in victory when Becky reached for a clear pitcher. She poured some water into a cup, inserted a straw, and held it to his lips. He sucked greedily. It was heaven. The water was cool and delicious, and it soothed his burning throat. When he'd downed the last of it, the straw made a slurping sound against the bottom of the cup, and he said, "More."

And this time-yippee!-the word actually came out sounding completely comprehensible.

"No," Becky told him, shaking her head, setting the cup aside. He looked at it with longing. "The doctor says you're not supposed to drink too fast or too much. I'll give you another cup in ten minutes. "

He shifted his gaze to her, scowling.

She scowled right back, planting her hands on her jean-clad hips, and sticking her tongue in her cheek. "And you can wipe that look right off your face, mister," she harrumphed. "You scared the s.h.i.t out of me, out of all of us. So, my patience with you is at an all-time low."

He grinned, shaking his head against the pillow. "Love you," he croaked, and her expression softened. She brushed her fingers through his hair and bent to kiss his forehead. She smelled like she always smelled, a strange combination of woman and mechanic, all flowery with just a hint of motor oil. When she straightened away, he cleared his throat and glanced down at the foot of the bed.

Boss was standing there with a big ol' smile splitting his face. It caused the scar cutting up from the corner of his lips to pull tight. "Save your breath," Boss said. "I know you love me, too."

Bill chuckled, but it turned into a series of coughs that had Becky squeezing his fingers and going back on what she'd just said. She held the straw on a fresh cup of water to his lips. As he sucked the cool, soothing liquid down into his burning throat, he grinned up at her triumphantly.

"Don't go thinking you've found my weak spot. That trick will only work once," she told him, pursing her lips.

When the water was gone, he asked, "Where's Eve?"

"She needed to stretch her legs, so we sent her on a coffee run," Boss informed him. "She should be back soon."

And knowing she was going to come through that door at any minute sent warmth fizzing through his veins. Or maybe that was just the drugs. The delicious, delicious drugs. For a moment, he thought he drifted, then the memory of those last few seconds out in the parking lot at Harbor View Marina dragged him back to reality.

"Jeremy Buchanan?" he asked, glancing first at his sister, then at Boss.

Boss shook his head. "Dead on the scene. Two shots. Center ma.s.s."

Bill swallowed. "Is she...Is Eve okay?"

Neither Boss nor Becky answered him, and a hard lump of apprehension settled in the center of his chest. Then, Becky finally admitted, "She's handling it pretty well. But it's tough. Buchanan was like a brother to her."

He nodded against the pillow, still having trouble believing what'd happened, why it'd happened. Frowning, he posed the question aloud.

"It's a convoluted story from what the police have been able to piece together after scouring his condo from top to bottom," his sister grimaced. Boss mirrored her expression, his big, craggy face filled with disgust. "But the short version of the story goes something like this...His mother, Eve's aunt, was a bit of a party girl. She liked to spend money as opposed to investing it. Apparently, she blew through her inheritance and the portion of a trust fund her parents left her. So, when she died, Jeremy discovered he was a trust-fund baby minus one trust fund. Then," Becky sucked in a breath and continued, "when Eve's father started up his business with Blake, he invited Jeremy to come in as a junior partner. But Jeremy didn't have the capital to put down. So he borrowed the money from some big time gang lord he allegedly met while working vice. He promised the gangster a big payoff. But as you know, the business failed, and he was left owing a lot of money to one very nasty individual."

Becky reached into her hip pocket, pulled out an orange Dum-Dum lollipop, and peeled back the wrapper. Shoving the sucker in her cheek, she opened her mouth to continue, and Bill didn't know if it was drugs talking but all he could think was...this is the short version of the story?

"So unless Jeremy wanted to find his knee caps busted, or take a bullet to the brain, or get himself fitted for cement galoshes, or whatever it is gangsters do to their enemies," Becky talked around the head of the sucker, "he needed to find a way to pay the guy back. In comes Eve's portion of the family trust fund. The doc.u.ment apparently stipulates that if Eve dies without an heir..." She frowned. "Heir. I swear, every time I say that word or even think it, I feel like I should be twirling a parasol and having a spot of tea." Boss snorted, and she shook her head as if she needed the physical inducement to jangle her thoughts back in order. "Anyway, if Eve dies without offspring, her portion of the trust fund reverts back to her closest, living relative from her mother's side of the family. Jeremy." She blew out a breath. "And there you have it."

There he had it, indeed. His mind was swimming. It was like something from daytime soap opera. But there was something...missing. A misplaced piece of the puzzle that niggled at the back of his brain. He narrowed his eyes and tried to focus on it, but it flitted away. Then, in a flash, he had it.

"Wait." He had to clear his throat when the word croaked out of him like he was a friggin' bullfrog or something. "But how did he know Eve was at the bar? It was her father who called that night."

Becky made a face, crunching down on the sucker and chewing loudly while simultaneously answering. "Eve texted him. She'd forgotten about it what with all the hullabaloo surrounding her father and ex-husband. It wasn't until everything was coming out in the wash that she even remembered doing it."

"Which is why he made the point of telling Eve she needed to leave her phone as evidence," he mused aloud, remembering Buchanan's last words to Eve before they'd gone to confront her father. "He wanted to make sure he got his hands on it in order to delete the text."

"He had his hands on everything," Becky muttered, shaking her head. "He kept the police files so he'd know exactly what everyone was doing, what everyone knew. He rode CPD's a.s.ses so when something did finally happen to Eve he could say I told you so and keep speculation off himself. He was smart. He played everything and everyone just right."

"Except for one thing," Bill said, smiling at his sister.

"What's that?" She c.o.c.ked her head.

"He underestimated Eve..."

Eve pressed herself against the wall beside the open door to Billy's hospital room. Oh, thank you, G.o.d! He's talking. And the sound of his voice was like music sent straight from heaven...

However, as much as she'd been looking forward to this moment, she'd been simultaneously dreading it. Because now that he was talking, she could no longer pretend that what he'd told her out there in that blood-soaked parking lot was true. He'd thought he was dying...

An image of him, thick blood leaking from his mouth, flashed before her eyes, followed immediately by the image of Mac and Delilah jumping from the fierce, black BKI helicopter. What happened next was mostly a blur. But she remembered Mac and Delilah helping her load Billy onto chopper. She remembered Ace at the throttle as the helicopter lifted from the surface of the lot. She remembered a crazy, five-minute flight to the nearest trauma center where dedicated medical staff worked hard to stabilize Billy before having him Life-Flighted straight to Chicago's prestigious Northwestern Memorial hospital. She'd called in every favor she could in order to get Billy in the operating room with one of the country's best cardiothoracic surgeons. Then, after about eight hours of surgery, a dozen pins and a steel rod inserted into his leg, what followed were two very stressful days where he remained unconsciousness and where every odd beep or strange blip of a monitor nearly caused her to stroke out.

Then, yesterday he turned the corner. And today he was talking. Sweet Lord in heaven, he was talking! Which meant very soon, she'd have to hear him tell her he hadn't really meant that I love you.

He thought he was dying. And he was Billy. Loyal Billy. Courageous Billy. Trustworthy Billy. Sweet Billy. So he tried, even in what he'd thought were his last moments, to give her comfort. To be...kind. And it was so beautiful. So like Billy.

But he didn't die. Thank goodness. Which meant now she had to let him off the hook. And she would let him off the hook. Just as soon as she could work up the courage to walk into that room...

A second pa.s.sed. Then two. A nurse in bright blue scrubs walked by, c.o.c.king her head, and Eve realized she probably looked highly ridiculous, pressed there against the wall like her toes were curled over a twenty-story ledge, a cardboard carrier with three cups of coffee held tight against her chest.

Okay, Eve. You can do it. Ladyb.a.l.l.s in the house, remember?

Then again, ladyb.a.l.l.s were generally useless when dealing with matters of the heart...

Oh, for Pete's sake! Stop being a coward! Your love is without strings, right? So, what does it matter that he doesn't really love you back?

Taking a deep breath, she pasted on what she hoped was a smile, then stepped into the room.

And there she was. Eve...

Billy's heart raced at the sight of her. Literally, the monotonous beep, beep, beep of some monitor he hadn't noticed until then picked up its cadence.

"Eve," he said her name and watched her eyes immediately fill with tears. Watched her lower lip tremble in the most adorable way.

"You're talking, Billy," she sniffed, barely sparing Boss a glance when he grabbed the cardboard coffee carrier out of her hands.

"I'm talking." He patted the bed beside him. Grinning when she bit her lip, hesitating. "Come on. I won't bite," he promised hoa.r.s.ely.

"We're gonna leave you two alone for a bit," Boss said, to which Becky lifted a brow, frowning.

"We are?" Becky asked. "But why? I mean Billy just woke up and-"

"Clue in, woman!" Boss thundered, and Becky stuck out her chin, scowling. Boss just rolled his eyes, heaving a long-suffering sigh, and hooked an arm around her shoulders. She tried to backpeddle when he marched her toward the door. But then Boss bent down and whispered something in her ear. "Oh," she said, glancing over her shoulder at Eve, then, "Oh!" She nodded, smiling, and allowed Boss to escort her from the room.

Eve watched them go then turned back to him, her eyes searching and uncertain.

"Now." He patted the mattress again. "Come. Here."

"Billy, I-"

"Are you really disobeying the wishes of a man who just had two bullets dug out of him?" The more he talked, the easier it became. That made him happy. Because there were a lot of things he wanted to say to Eve.

She shook her head and scurried toward him. Her hair was pulled back in a clip. Her face was free of makeup. She was wearing slim-fit jeans paired with a demure little pastel blouse that was guaranteed to raise his blood pressure on a better day. The bulk of the bandage on her upper arm where that round had grazed her-his stomach flipped just thinking about how close she'd come-showed through the flimsy material. And there were dark circles beneath her eyes from a combination of long, sleepless nights and the soul-deep sorrow of discovering who'd really been behind the attempts on her life.

Sonofab.i.t.c.h. He still had trouble believing it. Her own G.o.dd.a.m.ned cousin. And then what she'd had to do...it was terrible. Unthinkable. And they'd have to deal with it. Probably for a long, long time to come. The psychological trauma of that kind of thing didn't just go away overnight.

But right now, he didn't want to think about Jeremy Buchanan. They had a lifetime to work through all of that. No. Right now, he wanted to think about them. Talk about them. About their future.

He frowned when she didn't sit on the bed beside him, instead choosing to stand there. And when she lifted a hand to start chewing on a hangnail, he c.o.c.ked his head on the pillow. "Eve?"

"It's okay, Billy," she blurted. "I know you didn't r-really mean it. You're off the hook, okay?"

Huh?

He didn't realize he said the word aloud, until she swallowed and sputtered, "Y-you know. Out in the parking lot when you thought you were dying. I know you didn't mean it. I know you don't really love me. I know you can't ever trust me again after what I did. And it's okay. I understand. I-"

"Eve, stop."

She snapped her mouth closed and swallowed, staring at the baby blue coverlet on his bed as if it held the answers to man's greatest questions.

"Look at me," he commanded, and she swallowed again, gnawing furiously at her lower lip. But slowly, ever so slowly, she lifted her gaze. And the look on her face was a two-fisted punch in the gut. Good G.o.d, she actually believes what she's saying. She actually believes she doesn't deserve forgiveness. That she doesn't deserve a second chance. And because none of that was accurate. And because he didn't have the strength to argue or explain it all, he said the three truest words he could think of. And he said them with a conviction she couldn't mistake. "I love you."

Two fat tears spilled over her lower lids and streaked down her pale face. There was still a flicker of disbelief in her eyes, so he repeated himself. "I love you."

"B-But how?" she wailed, throwing her hands in the air. "After I betrayed you with B-Blake. After I broke my promise, broke my vow, how can you ever trust me again? How you just change your mind about that? About wanting me? What's different now?"

"Well..." He snagged her hand, and he tugged her forward. Or tried to, anyway. He was surprised and appalled by how weak he was. He had no more strength than a newborn. Still, she obliged him and perched on the edge of the mattress. "It's easy. I can trust you because I love you. And because I know you love me."

She searched his eyes. "But we loved each other back then, too."

"Yes we did," he smiled. "But we were also young and dumb. Hopefully we're not so much so anymore and-"

He was interrupted by a commotion outside the room. Boss's and Becky's voices rose angrily, and then right before Patrick Edens barged through the door, he heard the man say, "Dr. Fisher told me he was awake, and I need to see them, d.a.m.nit! I have something for them!" Boss slapped a huge mitt on Edens's shoulder, ready to drag the man back through the door. "I have something they need to hear!" Edens roared, struggling ineffectually against Boss's meaty grip.

And as much as Bill hated the sight of the man's face, and even though he couldn't possibly imagine what Edens could have to say, he felt Eve stiffen beside him, felt her fingers instinctively curl around his. And he realized she might need to hear whatever it was her father was determined to convey. So, he said, "It's okay, Boss. Let him go."

Boss and Becky both eyed Edens like one might eye a pile of cow manure swarmed by flies and baking in the sun, and Bill couldn't help himself. One corner of his mouth twitched. Then, once Boss released him, Edens threw his haughty nose in the air, grabbed his lapels, and straightened his gray, pinstripe suit jacket, and Bill felt himself following Boss and Becky's lead. He opened his mouth to demand that Edens get on with whatever he'd come to say, but Eve beat him to it.

"Why are you here, Dad?" she asked. Her voice was steady though he could feel her fingers trembling.

Tough. His woman was one hundred percent, straight-up tough. And he was so G.o.dd.a.m.ned proud of her.

Edens's eyes drifted over Bill, and to his utter astonishment, there seemed to be pain and...was that...? h.e.l.l, that looked suspiciously like remorse in the man's gaze. Then Edens turned to Eve and blurted, "He tried to call you." His voice was hoa.r.s.e, but his words were clear.