He laughed. “I hear there’s something to be said for recovery time.”
Happier than he’d ever been, he stroked her smooth shoulder, pondering where they’d go from here. “What will your rich, fancy brothers think about their baby sister taking up with a broke firefighter?”
He wouldn’t allow the mess he was in to spoil this newfound heaven. Somehow, he’d find a way out.
Cori gave him a squeeze. “I moved here to get away from their influence, remember? Anyway, it’s really only Joaquin who cares. He’s the major pain in the ass.”
Joaquin.
Oh, God. No.
He tried to keep his voice casual. Hoping against the odds. “That’s kind of an unusual name—Joaquin Shannon.”
“No. I never told you, did I? When I moved here, I took my mother’s maiden name for a fresh start.”
Zack knew what Cori was going to say, and his world crumbled. Hadn’t he known deep inside the moment he’d seen Cori ensconced in the home a ruthless bastard had stolen from him?
“My oldest brother is the hotel and casino mogul Joaquin Delacruz.”
10
Zack stared into the glowing embers, his arms full of soft, sleeping woman, and wondered how many times a man had to gain the top of the mountain and fall ass over elbows before he quit reaching for the impossible.
Why continue to fight?
Under the throw blanket he’d draped over them, Cori snuggled into his side, cheek resting against his chest. Even breath fanning over his skin, she lay, not so innocent, and trusting him to keep her safe.
His.
This was “why fight.” For this, for Cori, he’d take on Delacruz and his posse of assholes, her unknown enemy, and a team of Black Ops soldiers armed with hand grenades. Yeah, he had it bad, but the fuzzy afterglow of sex wasn’t the whole reason. Though the sex
had
been pretty damned amazing.
Not just sex, making love. He didn’t require a world of experience to know lovemaking was more than sharing bodies. Their connection was real and when he finally pushed deep inside her, he’d be home at last, where he belonged.
He needed time. To figure out how to deal with Delacruz and protect Cori. Not only from her stalker, but from the knowledge that her brother had all but destroyed Zack’s life . . . and Cori had directly benefited from his own downfall.
If Cori found out, it might drive a wedge between them. She’d feel awful, maybe even guilty, about a situation that wasn’t her fault. He couldn’t lose her.
Delacruz had no idea where Zack had disappeared to, and this was certainly the last place he’d look. For now, Zack must keep it that way. His gut churned to imagine what a powerful bastard like Delacruz would do to the man he’d already threatened, who owed him the better part of three quarters of a million dollars, when he found out Zack was sleeping with his sister.
And falling for her. Hard.
Whatever happened, nothing would get solved tonight. Glancing at the fire, he was satisfied it had burned down enough not to pose a hazard. He shifted around, gathering Cori and the blanket into his arms, and pushed to his feet. She stirred against him, raising sleepy eyes to his.
“Put me down. You’re going to hurt your back.”
“Shh, go back to sleep.”
“Too heavy.”
“Baby, I may be the FAO, but I’m trained to haul a body down ten flights of stairs in a four-alarm blaze if I have to,” he informed her, heading for the landing. “I absolutely can carry you to bed.”
“Mmm.” Settling, she wound her arms around his neck.
Pleased to get no further argument, he bore her upstairs to the room across from his and laid her gently on the bed. After some tugging, he covered and tucked her in, smiling ruefully as she curled onto her side and went right back to dreamland.
Admit it, Knight. You wanted to be invited to stay.
But she hadn’t asked him, and he’d never intrude on her privacy, despite the encouraging development between them. Some days being a nice guy sucked.
Downstairs, he retrieved his clothes, pulling on the lipstick-kiss boxers with a snort. Maybe he’d bronze them for posterity. For sure, he’d never look at them the same way again.
After dressing in his sweats and T-shirt, he padded into the kitchen to use the phone, flipping on the dim light over the sink. He doubted Cori would mind; plus he needed to let an officer on the team know how to reach him in case of an emergency. Since the truce with Tanner was a little thin yet, he opted to call Six-Pack, hoping he wasn’t interrupting the action between the lieutenant and his curvy blond bride. A glance at the clock revealed the hour wasn’t quite ten o’clock, though it seemed later.
Deciding to risk the big man’s annoyance, Zack parked his rear against the counter, picked up the handset, and punched in the couple’s number. While waiting, he stared out the bare window above the sink, into the night at the brilliant stars. Another view he’d never thought to enjoy again. After the fourth ring, the lieutenant grumbled a less-than-thrilled greeting. The breathy giggling in the background hinted at why.
“Paxton.”
“Hey, Six-Pack.”
“Zack!” Some rustling ensued, and the lieutenant’s upset jacked up a notch. “Where in the holy frickin’ hell have you
been
? Eve went by the hospital this afternoon to take you home and you were gone!”
“What?” Damn, Eve was probably pissed. “She was supposed to have Sunday dinner with her mother today.”
“She did, but they moved the time up so she could fetch you, dinglewad. And I’ll have you know, she searched for you everywhere.” A heavy pause. “She drove out to your old house, my friend. Nobody was home. She called me all in a snit, looking for your butt. What was I supposed to say when you swore me to silence about losing the place?”
“Shit.” Zack raked a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, man. I had no idea she’d planned to give me a lift.”
“Evie’s your best friend, Zack. What did you think she’d do? Just leave you stranded?”
“No, I just . . . I guess I wasn’t thinking. Someone gave me a ride.”
Boy, did she ever.
“To where, for God’s sake? I’ve been calling your apartment all afternoon and got no answer. I don’t recognize this number on the caller ID, either.”
“You’re not going to believe this.” Zack sighed. “I’m back at my house, at least for the time being. Only it’s not mine anymore. The place belongs to my new . . . friend. She’s the lady we pulled out of the Explorer on the bridge.”
“Are you freaking
kidding
me?” A loud noise banged in Zack’s ear, like his friend pounding the phone on the nightstand. When Six-Pack returned, his voice was incredulous. “Hell-oo? Is this squeaky-clean Wonder Boy Zack I’m talking to? Disappearing without a word to anyone and shacking up with the hot chick from the wreck that almost got him
fucking killed
? I’m guessing you took a harder blow to the head than any of us realized. Tell me what the hell is going on, kid.”
And wasn’t this fun? If Howard was this ticked, he could hardly wait for Eve to carve out his spleen with a blunt instrument. “I will, but I’d rather explain in person.”
“Yeah? Can you do it Tuesday afternoon? Kat and I have something we want to bring by.”
Zack closed his eyes. His buddies were on shift tomorrow, and they had no clue how badly he wanted to be there. He missed being in the driver’s seat to the point he felt as if he’d had a limb removed.
“Sure. Where else would I be?”
“Hey, you’ll be well and ready to return in a matter of days,” Six-Pack said in a firm tone.
“I know.”
“And call Eve, tonight.”
Crap. “I will.”
“Take care, my friend. See you Tuesday.”
Zack said good-bye, punched the END button, and rubbed his tired eyes before blinking them open. Long day. In spite of the earlier nap, he couldn’t wait to flop down and crash. He turned, reaching to replace the phone in the cradle.
From somewhere outside, a
crack
rang out, followed a split second later by the tinkling of glass.
A hard kick in his right shoulder sent him crashing into the counter. Knocked off balance, he fell, scattering cookbooks and a stack of mail, sweeping them to the floor. Stunned, he pushed to his hands and knees, trying to make sense of what just happened. Too fast. What . . .
Blood. Dripping onto the linoleum.
Pain. Blossoming in his shoulder. Thick and sickening.
Shot.
“Oh, God.” A shock of fear and adrenaline nearly stopped his heart. “Fuck!”
Dazed, he sat back on his heels and slapped a hand over the wound. Sticky warmth rushed between his fingers, soaking his shirt. A wave of nausea assaulted him, bile rising in his throat. Treating a gunshot victim at a scene in no way prepared a guy for being on the receiving end.
The phone. There, next to the pile of cookbooks. He snatched the handset and punched 911, hands shaking so violently he almost dropped it.
A dispatcher asked him to state his emergency, so darned pleasant he might’ve laughed if he weren’t dangerously close to throwing up.
“I’ve been shot,” he gasped. “Jesus Christ.”
Voice changing to tight and clipped, she asked for the pertinent details, of which he had few, including having no idea who’d done the deed or why. He gave her his name and address through a dense haze. Shit, he was dizzy.
“Mr. Knight, stay on the line with me, okay?”
“Can’t . . . Cori’s upstairs.”
He had to get to her.
“Mr. Knight?”
The phone slipped from his hand.
Cori awoke with a start, frowning into the shadows of her room. “Zack?”
She groped the bed beside her, but he wasn’t there. Had she been dreaming, or had she heard a gunshot echoing across the hills in the darkness? Something else, too. A noise like breaking glass. She strained, but heard nothing else.
The mind could do strange things to a person, confusing dreams with reality. Probably nothing. She wouldn’t get any more sleep until she’d checked on Zack and the house, though. Cool air kissed her skin as she slid out of bed, reminding her of her nakedness. Quickly, she pawed through the dresser drawers, found a pair of panties and a large T-shirt, and yanked them on.
Padding across the hall, she peered into Zack’s room first, surprised to see his bed empty. Maybe he’d stayed up to watch TV. As she walked out, however, there were no soft, canned sounds of a program, no glow of the screen coming from the living room.
Starting down the stairs, she called out. “Zack?” At that moment he staggered out of the kitchen, and she huffed an exaggerated breath. “There you are. I thought I heard—”
“Cori,” he rasped, clutching his shoulder. “Stay away from the windows.”
Her smile died. A dark, wet stain was spreading over his shirt. His fingers were crimson, his face white.
Her feet were flying down the stairs before she even realized she’d moved. “You’re bleeding! What happened?”
“Shot. I called the police.”
“Oh, my God!”
Meeting Zack halfway across the living room, she caught him as he stumbled. His arm went around her and she hugged his left side, steadying him.
He waved a hand. “Let’s go into the foyer. We’ll be away from the windows there.”
They closed the remaining distance and she helped ease him to sit on the first stair. Her brain whirled with questions, but her single priority right now was to check his wound. She started to sit next to him, and he shook his head.
“This side of me,” he said, indicating the place next to the inside wall.
She complied, opening her mouth to question him when his actions struck her. He’d placed his body between her and the living room—and possible danger. Again.
“It’s okay; the curtains are drawn.”
“Don’t care.”
He slumped against the railing and her heart skipped. His pallor had gone gray and a fine sheen of moisture beaded above his lip. She pressed her fingers to his forehead and as she’d expected, his skin felt clammy.
“Let’s get your shirt off so I can examine the wound.”
“Not quite as fun as the last time you ordered my clothes off, huh?” His laugh ended on a strangled wheeze.
“Do me a favor and don’t give up your day job to be a comedian, okay?” Lifting the edge of his shirt, she began to work it up.
His handsome face contorted in agony as he pulled his arm out of the sleeve. “Joking might keep me from passing out.”
“Under the circumstances, you’re allowed. This looks pretty nasty.”
It did, too. Puckered, torn flesh edged the bloodied furrow in the top of his shoulder, and bits of his shirt were stuck in the mess. Rivulets of blood streaked down his chest. She prayed the wound appeared worse than it was.