His grogginess evaporated as his hand suddenly shot between his legs. Relief slackened his face. “Thank God.”
I pulled back. “What? What is it?”
Q shook his head, alertness battling back his weakness. “Nothing. I’m still in one piece. That’s all.” He sighed heavily, looking worn-out and barely conscious. His eyes narrowed. “Why is there blood on your cheek?”
Because it was my blood to take.
Franco appeared in the doorway, using the dreaded walking stick he’d scorned before. “Ambulance is on its way.” Smiling at Q, he added, “You should’ve seen her, Mercer. Fucking scary as hell. But she killed him for you.” Franco glared in my direction. His eyes blatantly vowing that what happened downstairs would remain between us.
I nodded, accepting his promise. I’d done what I needed to do. Q didn’t need to know the details.
Q’s face darkened, overshadowed with the strain of talking. “What?” He growl-croaked, “You killed Lynx? That’s his blood on your face?”
I made him believe my lies and stole his life.
I nodded, fierce pride resonating in my heart. “He stole you from me. He had to die. And I had to be the one to do it.” Taking his hand, I squeezed. “I know you’ll understand, and I know you’ll accept when I say it’s done and I don’t want to talk about it.”
Q flinched, untangling his arm from the blanket. With a shaky hold, he cupped the back of my neck. I bowed over him, never looking away from his eyes. “What did you do, Tess? Please tell me you didn’t undo my hard work.” He stopped, sucking in a breath. His eyes were tight with agony. “Tell me you didn’t ruin yourself by killing him for me. You didn’t have to do that. I never wanted—”
“It won’t happen.” I knew his fears. He worried I’d relapse for hurting another like killing Blonde Hummingbird. But I wouldn’t because I’d done the right thing. I was happy. I accepted my brutality and would gladly live with the knowledge I wasn’t pure anymore. I was never pure. And if I went to hell for saving the man I loved—then that was the final debt I would pay.
I kissed him softly. “Taking his life granted me power. I’m not afraid anymore. I’m in control of my fate, and I give it to you wholeheartedly.” My stomach clenched, remembering his letter. “But if you ever leave me a note again, after planning your death and telling me nothing of the dangers you’re in, I’ll kill you, too.”
Q leaned back on the cushion, his energy rapidly fading. “I did that to protect you.”
“Well—I want to protect you in return.” My heart lurched realizing just how vulnerable we all were. How quickly life passed—how much I wanted to live it. “Marry me, Q. Now. I don’t care where or how.”
Q’s fingers added pressure to the base of my skull, bringing me down to kiss him. His lips moved against mine in a dance belonging completely to us. His tongue entered sweetly, seductively. He didn’t kiss with misery or happiness or lust.
He kissed me with reverence. Thankfulness.
When we broke apart, he murmured, “Je t’ai déjà épousée dans mon cœur, Tess. Au moment où j'ai posé les yeux sur toi, tu étais à moi pour toujours, mon amour.” I’ve already married you in my heart, Tess. The moment I set eyes on you, you were mine forever.
Looking over my head, he said to Franco, “Call Suzette. Find out where she organised the wedding.”
“Wait—Suzette?”
Q smiled, reopening the small cut on his lower lip. “We’re getting married tomorrow. Suzette’s been arranging it.” His last reservoir of strength petered out, leaving him pale and breathing hard.
Franco towered over us, two injured warriors together. “I’ll call her, and I’ll do anything else that needs to be done—but you—you’re going to the hospital.”
Q opened his lips to argue but winced as Franco deliberately patted his sliced up legs beneath the blanket. “Hospital, Mercer. Then wedding. Don’t make me kick your ass.”
A tense moment existed before Q nodded. “I think that ass kicking can wait, don’t you?” His gaze fell to Franco’s missing thumb. A rosebud of blood decorated the bandage where his digit used to be. Q frowned, taking in the sling and Franco’s cane. “Thank you for coming.”
Franco shrugged. “Couldn’t be late to this party. Look how much fun you were having.”
I cringed at the morbid humour, but Q smiled. “The fun I could’ve done without—but I’m grateful to you, Franco.” His eyes fell on me. “And forever in your debt, Tess. You should never have had to do that on my behalf. I’m sorry.”
Sirens sliced the morning peace. A flashing ambulance pulled into the driveway, its lights visible through the windows. Kissing Q’s cheek, I whispered, “No apologises. I did what I needed to do.” I nuzzled his cheek. “Your chariot awaits, maître. And your bride will be with you every step until she becomes your wife.”
Q’s body stiffened, fighting off a wave of pain. “And once you’re my wife—you intend to leave my side?”
My heart was no longer a heart—it became a beacon, beaming with brightness, lighting the way to my future. “When I’m your wife, our lives will become one. I won’t be by your side. I’ll be inside you. Forever.”
Q sucked in a breath, his eyes glowing with love. “In that case—get me to the hospital.”
Chapter Fourteen
You are my saviour
My forever
The hospital was a necessary evil.
As much as I wanted to leave Spain and never return, I had to endure needles, questions, and doctors.
Hours upon hours of tests, MRIs, and stitching up the slices on my legs frayed my patience, giving time the opportunity to turn my injuries into bone-deep aches. My head pounded from hanging upside down and everything inside was bruised—my kidneys, my stomach—even my spleen. My heart was also banged up, but surprisingly fine—despite the rigorous assault it’d endured. My spine was swollen from the baseball bat, but I had sensation in my legs. Thank f**king God. And the bullet hole was no longer a hole after surgery sewed me up.
The catalogue of injuries went on forever but after everything I’d endured the only broken part of me was a cracked rib. That and my heart. Tess had done something irreversible down there. I’d hung unconscious while she did something I would never be able to delete.