“No, I don’t believe—”
“Believe it,” he said harshly. “I’m a firefighter and paramedic. I’m supposed to be a healer, a man who saves lives. But I would’ve killed him if you hadn’t stopped me. I’m no better than him.”
“That’s not true!” She had to make him understand. “You’re a good man, and you only wanted to protect me!”
“I crossed the line. I’m no good to you, or anyone.”
“Zack—”
“I need for you to go,” he said, voice breaking.
“Wh-what? No!”
“Please, just give me some time.”
“For what? To push me away?” she cried. “To disappear from my life? Is that what you want?”
“I don’t know what I want.”
He was lying. He loved her. She knew it to the depths of her soul, but the words still broke her heart. This wasn’t the joyful reunion, the happy-ever-after she’d imagined.
Zack was hurting, his sense of failure hanging over him like a shroud. He, a kind and gentle man, had lost control. He
had
nearly killed Lionel Gunter, and he needed time.
Away from me.
Acute loss speared her middle, but she stiffened her spine with resolve. She’d give him the space he required.
But not forever.
Bending, she placed a kiss on his cheek and stood. “I love you and I’m here for you, always. You know where to find me. Call, and I’ll come.”
With all the dignity of the most stoic Delacruz, she sailed from the room.
She didn’t break down until she was well down the hallway, where he’d never hear her cry.
Zack managed to keep it together long enough for the door to click behind Cori. Then the tears slid down his face, hot and bitter. One senseless, base act, and he’d lost the only person who’d ever mattered.
The only woman he’d ever loved.
His father had been right. He was worthless. So much for aspiring to noble causes, for showing the old man he’d follow his own path, his dreams. For letting himself believe, for one moment, he could find happiness on his own terms.
Most little boys get over playing with fire trucks. I never did.
That part of his life was over. He wasn’t a man anyone could be proud of. He’d failed himself, the team, and, most of all, Cori.
You’re not like him.
He drifted on a sea of pain medication and misery. When the door to his room suddenly opened, he hurriedly wiped the dampness from his face.
“Knight?”
He turned his head at the deep, unfamiliar voice, and stared in surprise. Of all the people he expected to see at his bedside, Joaquin Delacruz wasn’t one of them.
“Come for a friendly visit, or to put a bullet in my brain? Because if you’re here for the rest of your money, I don’t have it and I won’t. Not now, or next week. Not ever.”
The man ran a hand through his longish, perfectly styled black hair, and sighed. “That’s why I’m here, but not the way you think. I’m here to thank you for saving my sister’s life, more than once.”
“Thank me . . .”
“Yes.”
Unbelievable. “I don’t need or want your fucking thanks. I love Cori.”
The devil arched a black brow. “Really? Oh, yes, your great love is why she nearly mowed me down in the lobby, sobbing her heart out.”
His chest tightened. “Is that why you’re here?”
“No. If you’re a big enough imbecile to screw things up with her, she’s better off without you.” Delacruz shifted his stance, drawing his jacket more securely over his injured shoulder. “I’ve come to tell you I’ve forgiven your father’s debt. The slate is clean, as it were.”
Zack gazed at Delacruz. Weeks ago, he’d have given anything to hear those words. Now? “Fuck you.”
“Let’s get one thing clear—I’m doing this for my sister, not for you. She’s the one bright spot in my existence, Knight, and I’ll forever be grateful she’s safe. So, whether you like it or not, it’s a matter of principle to me. The debt has been canceled out, and your funds have been restored to your savings, with interest. There’s just one more thing.”
“What?” he managed.
“The title to your house. Cori signed it back over to you,” he said. “Now I imagine she’s wondering where she stands.”
“Cori belongs there. The house is hers as much as it is mine,” he said. The idea of her moving out numbed him to the core. Scared him on a primal level, inspired fear he’d never known.
Pure terror that he’d arrive home to find her gone.
For good.
And yet, how could he expect her to stay? She deserved better than a man who’d almost committed murder.
“Tell her to stay. If anyone leaves, it’ll be me.”
Delacruz’s expression went arctic. “Tell her yourself.” He turned and strode for the door, then paused, tossing the parting shot over his shoulder. “She told me you’re some sort of genius. I think you’re a very stupid coward.”
Cori’s brother closed the door quietly behind him.
20
Cori went to see Zack one more time, two days later. She’d attended her classes, checking her cell phone every half hour. She had done her ER rotations, resisted the wild urge to catch the elevator up to the regular room he’d been moved to and see him. She’d pumped Dr. Chu for information, kept her ears open. He was recovering well.
But he hadn’t called.
She was losing him, and didn’t know what else to do except try again. The visit had been a mistake.
Their conversation was so stilted and sad, she’d left after ten minutes. And spent twenty more sobbing in the ladies’ room.
No more. She couldn’t fight this battle here. He’d have to work through the trauma of what he’d done, and he’d either let her help him or not. One thing for certain, he’d not be able to hide forever. He was getting well, and he’d have to come home, eventually.
Then what? She refused to dwell on the worst possible outcome.
So it came as something of a shock the following Saturday, one week after their kidnapping, when Sean Tanner called her at home. Tucking the receiver under her ear, she paused in the act of drying dishes, scrambling to think why Zack’s captain would phone.
“Hello, Sean. What can I do for you?” No sooner had the question left her mouth than a horrible scenario formed. “Is something wrong with Zack? Has he relapsed?” Please, no—
“Cori, I don’t know how to say this,” he began, voice heavy with regret.
The mug in her hands slipped and clattered into the sink. “Oh, God. What’s wrong?”
“Zack was just here.”
“He’s been released?” Anguish lanced her, the hurt unbearable. He hadn’t bothered to call.
“Yeah, just a little while ago.” Sean blew out a breath on the other end, sounding tired. Defeated. “He turned in his resignation.”
The world tilted. “Wh-what?”
“He quit without notice. Of course, I’m not about to accept it. I’m hoping you can run interference, talk some sense into him.”
Pulling out a breakfast-nook chair, she sat before she fell down. “He
loves
his job, Sean. He told me himself that he never wanted to do anything else.”
“He’s dealing with some tough shit. He’s been through a lot. You both have. Listen, just . . . try, okay? He’s headed your way. One of the B-shift guys is giving him a ride.”
“All right. I’ll do my best.”
“Zack’s a good man, Cori. Don’t let him go.”
“It may not be up to me, Sean.”
She hung up and laid the phone on the table. Stared blindly at the wall.
Zack was coming home. And he hadn’t cared to let her know.
The man she loved was coming to tell her good-bye.
Zack slapped the hood of Clay Montana’s truck, waved so long, and shuffled slowly up the front-porch steps. Even though he was doped to the gills, his taped ribs and the healing knife wound were killing him.
But not nearly as much as the hole in his heart.
Sean had probably called her right away. She must hate him by now. Which was for the best. Right?
The front door wasn’t locked. He stepped inside, and she rose from the sofa. Stood silently, returning his gaze.
She looked tired. Too thin; dark circles under her lovely eyes. Apparently, she hadn’t been eating or sleeping. Worst of all was the devastation etched on her face. She wiped her palms on her jeans, then crossed her arms under her breasts. Uncertain, hesitant as she’d never been with him before.
I’ve done this to her, to us. I don’t deserve her.
“Welcome home,” she said.
“I’m here to pack.”
A spasm of pain ruined what little composure remained. “You’re leaving. Just like that, even though we love each other.”
“It’s not enough.” No, that wasn’t quite right. “
I’m
not enough.”
“What do you mean?”
His throat burned. “All my life, I’ve fallen short of the mark. I should’ve been more, made better choices. For a while, I let myself believe I’d risen above the loser everyone thought me to be.”
Shaking her head, she took a few steps toward him. “You’re not a loser. You’re the man I love. Nothing will ever change that, no matter how far you run.”
He gave her a sad smile. “You once told me one of the things you loved most about me was that I settle my problems with my brain, not my fists. I let you down.”
Spreading her hands, she closed the distance between them. “No, you didn’t! You’re kind and brilliant, and—”
“I almost killed a man, Cori. With my
bare hands
! How could you love me now? I’m not what you wanted.”
Shamed, he hung his head, hands fisted at his sides. He swallowed hard once, twice, but couldn’t stop the tear that escaped to roll down his stubbled cheek. Or the next.
Her palm was warm on his face and he turned into her touch, a small sound of agony emerging despite his efforts.
“Everyone makes mistakes, and sometimes people are pushed beyond their limits,” she said softly. “Tell me, would you love me any less if I’d been the one to beat Lionel to a pulp? If I’d taken the fireplace poker and brained him?”
A tiny kernel of hope formed in his chest. For the first time in days, a ray of light.
“No, of course not. But you didn’t.”
“I would have. And it wouldn’t have been nearly as bad as what I’ve done in the past.”
That brought his head up and he searched her face. Read the sorrow in her eyes, the regret. “I don’t understand.”
“I lied to you, Zack. From the beginning, about something very important. Given the circumstances, it might change the way you feel about me.”
“You’re wrong. Nothing ever could.” Fear gripping his gut, he cupped her cheeks in both hands. “What is it?”
“The night my husband nearly beat me to death . . .”
“You can tell me anything, baby.”
“Joaquin didn’t shoot Alex. I did.”
“Oh, my God.” What she must’ve gone through. The fear, the guilt.
“I
did
kill a man. In self-defense, but he’s just as dead. The enormity of taking a life never really goes away, though it was him or me. My brother took the blame to protect me from the press, from speculation. And I let him. Do you hate me now?” she whispered. “Do you love me any less?”
He pulled her into his arms, gathered her close to his heart. “God, no. How could you ever think that?”
“Then how can you love
yourself
any less?”
The truth, every word.
The kernel bloomed, unfurled. She snuggled against his chest, tears dampening his T-shirt, and he knew he’d never let this woman go. “I love you, Cori Shannon.”
“Please don’t go.”
“Try and make me.” He nuzzled her hair, inhaled her scent. “I’m so sorry for putting you through hell this week.”
“I’m a woman. I’ll save it up and pay you back later.”
He chuckled, and winced at the pain in his ribs. “Damn, don’t make me laugh.”
“You shouldn’t be out of the hospital, stubborn man.”
“I’ll get more nursing care right here in your arms.”
“Mmm, true.”
“I wish I could make love to you.”
“We have plenty of time.”
Winding her arms around his neck, she gave him a soul-searing kiss. Her tongue delved into his mouth, licking him into a state of bliss. Pulling back, she cocked her head at him. “What did you really do with the fifty million?”
“Pretty much what I told Lionel. I created another account and hid the money. I can put it back anytime, though Detective Bernie said the Feds might make some noise.”