Relentless (37 page)

“What if she can?”

Words crowded his throat, confessions that he needed to voice but couldn't let out.

Watching him closely, Ben angled his head. “Spill it.”

He couldn't. Couldn't say it out loud.

His brother walked over to the door and turned the deadbolt, locking them in and everyone else out. “Better?”

Rhys nodded.

“Tell me.”

He straightened and ran his hands over his head, down his face. He felt so tired. “I knew I wasn't ready to take this on.”

“Oh, come on— ”

“I knew it and I did it anyhow.” A terrible sense of emptiness filled him. “I told myself I was doing it to help protect her, but maybe that's not the whole reason. Maybe I did it to prove to myself that I was back in the game.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “And she paid the price.”

“Jesus, Rhys, that's not you. You're a goddamn Boy Scout. If you really questioned your ability that much you would never have come here.”

“I don't know if she'll ever forgive me. Christ, I don't know what to tell her.”

Ben's eyes searched his. “You love her, right?”

“Yeah. I love her.” More than anything.

“Then there's your answer.”

Rhys shook his head. “I missed him, Ben. I had a clear shot and I hit him in the shoulder.” The admission shamed him.

“If you missed him, then any of us would have.”

“You wouldn't have.” Nor would Dec or Luke have.

Ben sighed. “Look. I can't stop yourself from doing the mea culpa routine, but before you run out and fit yourself for a hair shirt, you might want to cut yourself some slack.” He rubbed Rhys's back. “Look who I'm talking to though,” he muttered. “At least do yourself a favor and not play the ‘what if’ game. You'll drive yourself nuts.”

The guilt continued to pile up on Rhys like an avalanche. Smothering him. He covered his head with his arms to save himself. To hide. A sob worked its way up from his chest where it felt like someone was crushing his heart in a vise. He thought he might split apart from the pain.

Ben's hand slid to Rhys's shoulder and tugged. “C'mere.”

Rhys flinched and shook his head, hating that he was so weak and out of control. Humiliation crawled through him, mixing with the pain and the knowledge of what Nev had been through because of him.

“Hard-ass,” Ben muttered in irritation. “C'mere. This won't kill you.” Strong arms pulled him forward, ignoring his resistance and then Ben wrapped him up in a hug. “It's okay. Let it go.”

No. It wasn't okay. None of this was okay. Rhys never cried. He'd always been the strong one, the one to hold it together in a crisis. Ever since they'd been kids and he'd become a parent to Ben instead of a brother at age five when their mother had free-based herself into a stupor.

He'd always been the one to step up and take charge, stay cool and clean up the messes Ben got them into. Always. He'd never been allowed the luxury of showing his emotions, let alone cracking under them. Ben did more than enough of that for the both of them.

But those brawny arms tightened further, cradling him like the child he'd never been despite their slight difference in height.

“Just us,” his brother murmured, drawing him close. “It's just us here. No one else will ever know.”

Ah, damn, he didn't want to do this in front of Ben, but he couldn't hold on anymore. His body just... crumpled.

As the tears finally came, Rhys had no choice but to let go. Burying his face in his brother's neck, he fisted the back of his leather jacket with both hands, holding on tight while the torrent rushed through him.

Awful, wracking spasms shook him. Tears of grief and fear and loneliness. Tears he'd never let himself shed as a lost and frightened little boy carrying the weight of responsibility on his too thin shoulders. Tears of a man so in love he couldn't bear the thought of facing life without the woman he'd given his heart to.

But how would she ever forgive him?

Ben's hold never lessened. His low voice murmured something, but Rhys couldn't make out the words over the sounds of his own grief. All he knew was Ben had him and he was safe, no matter if he was sobbing like a child in his arms.

When it was over Rhys broke away with a sniff and went immediately to the sink, hiding his reddened face by splashing cold water on it. Coming up for air, Ben held out another paper towel. Rhys took it with a muttered thanks and blotted his skin dry, avoiding eye contact. Shit, he'd never live this down. Not if he lived to be a hundred.

“Better?”

Rhys nodded, bracing for the inevitable ribbing he knew was coming.

Ben didn't disappoint. “See? You lost it and lived to tell about it.” His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “You even survived a man hug.” He rounded his eyes in feigned astonishment.

Wiping at his puffy eyes with his fingers, a watery laugh escaped him. “You always were an affectionate little shit.”

Ben clapped him on the back. “Yeah. Don't feel bad, though— we can't all have the gift. But don't worry, I think Nev'll straighten you out in that department.”

God, he hoped so. He prayed she'd give him the chance. “What time is it?”

Ben checked his watch. “Thirteen twenty-seven. She should be in recovery soon.”

“Not soon enough.” He glanced at the floor, his shoes, the stark white subway tiles on the walls. Anywhere but at Ben. An awkward silence grew between them.

Ben finally cleared his throat. “You can't see her looking like that; you'll scare her to death. Here, take my shirt.” He shrugged out of his much cleaner T-shirt and held it out to him, the mirror reflecting the half infinity symbol and up-pointed dagger tattooed over his left shoulder blade. Rhys's own half of the tattoo tingled as he looked at it. Brothers, by blood and by service. Twins. Separate yet indivisible.

Rhys stripped off his bloodstained button down, still rattled by the knowledge it was Nev's blood all over it. He raised a brow. “Want it?”

“No, thanks. Ditch it. I'll make do with my jacket.”

Rhys pulled his brother's shirt over his head and did one last quick once over in the mirror. Satisfied he wasn't going to make Nev go back into shock when she saw him, he turned away and focused on what he'd say to her when she came out of recovery. “Any word on the security tapes?”

Ben looked away. “All the elevators have security cameras.”

Rhys's chest tightened. “So there's footage?”

His twin nodded, and seemed like he was having trouble meeting his eyes. “Yeah. It caught everything.”

“I want to see it before she wakes up.”

Ben hesitated. “You sure, man? I'm sure Nate could— ”

“I want to know what happened. Exactly.” Every fucking second of it, whether he was ready or not.

Truth was he was scared shitless of seeing the tape, but he had to know what she'd gone through. He owed her that much, to confront what she had if he was going to help her in the days and weeks ahead. Plus, he'd go certifiable envisioning it in his mind without the tape. The cold hard truth was all that would cut it.

Filmy layers of cotton obscured her thoughts. They drifted past in fluffy veils as her brain tried to come back online. When the fog began to clear, she heard voices murmuring in the background and a few mechanized beeps. Her mouth was dry and her eyelids were heavy. Why couldn't she wake up?

Moving her tongue around, Neveah fought to peel her lids apart. Man she was groggy. Squinting in the harsh light hitting her eyes, she focused on her surroundings.
Hospital
.

Her left hand brushed the blanket tucked around her and she saw the IV snaking over the back of it.
Surgery
. Because she'd been wounded in the knife fight.

The breath stuck in her throat as her brain snapped to attention. Her eyes flew to her right arm. The limb was covered in bandages, from her upper arm to her hand. What had they found? Had they been able to fix it? Clammy sweat broke out across her skin.

“Nev?”

She swung her head around at the sound of that unforgettable, deep voice. He walked toward her, his face tense. “Rhys,” she choked, reaching out her left hand for him. He gripped it immediately, flooding her cold palm with warmth.

“My arm.” Her voice was hoarse and her throat was scratchy, probably from the intubation. “What happened? Was the nerve cut?” Needing to know how bad the damage was, she tried to peel the bandages away.

“Nev, stop.” Rhys gently took hold of her hand and wrapped his large ones around it. He stared directly into her eyes. “Slow down, honey. Just breathe a minute. Give yourself a chance to come out of the anesthetic.”

“But my arm— ”

“Is fine.”

Was he lying? She searched his eyes, begging him to level with her. She needed to know.

“You're fine, I swear.”

Relief made her lightheaded. She closed her eyes and laid her head back against the thin pillow, suddenly overwhelmed by fatigue. When Rhys stroked the side of her face, she turned her cheek into his palm and looked up at him. “What did they say?”

“The surgeon repaired your radial artery, two tendons, and the median nerve.”

Shit. “Was the nerve severed?”

“No, it was still partially intact.”

Staring at the thick dressing covering her arm, dread filled her. She couldn't feel anything now because of whatever meds they had her on, but if the median nerve had been damaged, she'd lose at least some motor control and sensation in her right hand. Her dominant surgical hand.

Swallowing, she glanced up at the IV stand. Her stomach dropped. “No more Demerol,” she commanded, trying to sit upright. Already she could feel the nausea starting, rolling around like worms in her stomach. She didn't want to throw up right now, especially in front of Rhys. “No more Dem or morphine.”

“Whoa, easy.” Hard hands settled on her shoulders and pressed her down.

“Tell them no more— ”

“I will.” His voice was so calm, so soothing. “Baby, just close your eyes a minute and rest, before they throw me out of here. I promised them you'd feel better with me here when you woke up but if you keep this up they're gonna show me the door.”

He was right. With a sigh, Nev tried to relax. “You won't leave, right?” She didn't want to close her eyes in case she drifted off and he left. The idea of being alone filled her with something close to panic. She couldn't handle thinking about the attack and the damage to her arm right now.

For a moment a shadow flickered in his dark blue eyes, but then he took her face between his hands and bent to her. “I'm not leaving you,” he vowed, kissing her lids closed.

But without visual input to distract her, her brain began to run through what had transpired in the elevator. No matter how hard she willed them away, the images came. The glint of the knife. The gushes of crimson pulsing from Shirani's neck. Her eyes sprang open. “Rhys... ”

“What, baby?”

She reached for him blindly and his arms opened up to take her against his hard body. When they closed tight around her, she shuddered in relief. Pressing her face into his shoulder she fought the tears filling her eyes. A sob shook her. The wound over her ribs pulled.

“Ah Nev, Christ... ” Rhys gathered her even closer. “I want to hold you so tight but I'm scared of hurting you.”

“Don't let go,” she begged.

He groaned and kissed the top of her head. “I won't. I love you.”

God, she loved him more than anything. Tipping her face up to tell him so, she stopped when a nurse came over and wrapped a heated blanket around her.

“We'll get you up to a private room as soon as it's ready,” she said with a sympathetic smile. “I'll draw the curtains around you to give you some privacy, but let us know if you need anything.”

Nev nodded. “Th-thanks.” The metallic curtain rings made a hissing sound as the nurse drew the fabric panels closed. Neveah laid her wet cheek over the steady throb of Rhys's heart. His big hands stroked gently over her hair and down her back, but her mind was in turmoil. She'd killed a man. Her heart drummed in her ears. “Will... Will the police take me in?”

“No, honey. They'll come here to ask you some questions and take your statement and that's all.”

But what then? There hadn't been any witnesses in the elevator. Would she be accused of murder? “I— I didn't want to do it,” she whispered. “I just w-wanted him to leave me alone, but he wouldn't stop.” Shivers wracked her despite the warmth of the blanket and Rhys's arms around her. God, why hadn't he
stopped
? “He kind of fell on the knife... I don't th-think I s-stabbed him.” Or had she? She'd been all instinct in that moment. Maybe she had driven the blade into his neck.

You killed a man today. You know you did.

She wanted to clap her hands over her ears to stop that voice, but she wouldn't let herself.
Think
,
Nev
, she ordered herself,
think about some way to prove you didn't do it on purpose
. “Are there security cameras in the elevator? So they can see how it was?”

“Yes, but— ” His hands pressed against her spine and nape. “Baby whatever happened, you were acting in self-defense. You're not in any trouble with the police.”

She raised her eyes to his. “What if the laws are different in Canada?”

“They're not that different. Everything's going to be fine.”

He felt so good against her. Warm and strong and protective. A living shield to stand between her and the rest of the world. “I was so scared, Rhys,” she admitted in a small voice.

“Oh, baby, I know. I'm so goddamn sorry... ”

The roughness in his voice made her look up at him, and the guilt she saw embedded in his beautiful blue eyes broke her heart. “No,” she protested, unwilling to let him blame himself for what happened. She put a palm to his cheek. “You look at me.”

“Nev... ”

“Rhys, you look at me right now.” When he finally raised his gaze to hers she stared directly into his eyes. “What happened to me was not your fault, it was mine. I insisted on doing the damn speech even though you'd all warned me it could be dangerous. I put myself in harm's way along with everybody else. If anyone should be beating themselves up, it should be me. But I think I'm sufficiently battered right now.”