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.
Twisting my head on the pillow, I looked at her.
She hadn’t moved from my side. She’d been there while the doctors numbed my legs and practiced f**king cross-stitch with my flesh. She’d held my hand while we waited for the results of my heart and blood pressure readings. She screamed at any doctor who tried to remove her from a procedure.
I f**king loved her. I couldn’t stop looking at her—knowing she’d killed for me. She’d willingly crossed that threshold where no human should have to go. She took a life in payment for mine. She truly was my perfect other.
Tess glowed, a smile spreading her lips. “Do you need anything? Something to eat? Water?”
I couldn’t stop the involuntary shudder at the mention of f**king water. Vile liquid. Killing liquid. I never wanted another sip or to see a bucket or towel again. That had been the worst part. I didn’t care about the baseball bat or even the cuts on my legs. It was the black wetness that turned my stomach.
It was the breathless horror whenever my mind relived the past. I’d died. I’d given up. And that made me f**king weak. While I’d given up, Tess had become my saviour.
It made me proud. It also made me furious. Hospital staff looked at me as if I were a f**king invalid—compounding the emotions I battled. How could I ever thank Tess for what she did? How could I ever live with myself for being so f**king stupid?
Police had arrived to take my statement and for once I could tell the truth—the whole truth and not fear any repercussions. They’d left us in peace after the main activities and needlepoint on my legs.
Finally, after what seemed like days, I’d finally been left alone in a private room. Finally able to breathe without disinfectant or antiseptic stinging my nostrils. The grogginess from the anaesthesia wore off, leaving me stiff and sore.
My nervous system had a hard time tabulating it all. One moment an ache flared in my chest, the next my lower back. But despite the flushes of agony, I felt fine. I felt whole. I felt content.