Spy Snow Leopard (Protection, Inc. Book 6) Read online

  Love. The word had come so naturally to his mind. And looking down at the woman in his arms, he could no longer deny it. He loved her. He would always love her.

  “If we were different people with different lives, we’d get together and it would be great,” she’d said. “But we’re the people we are, with the lives we have. And it’s not happening.”

  If he couldn’t be her lover, he’d be her partner, her protector, her knight in battered armor. She’d given him his heart back. If being together yet apart broke it anew every day of his life, it would still be worth the price.

  Chapter Seven

  Fiona

  Fiona’s shoulder burned like she’d been stabbed with a red-hot poker. Her skin prickled with cold sweat, and she felt sick and dizzy. So this was what it felt like to get shot. It was even worse than she’d imagined. She knew she should be coming up with some story or plan in case the police stopped them, but she couldn’t concentrate on anything but how badly her shoulder hurt. And worse than that, on how the shock and pain had made her lose control of her ability to shift, and trapped her in the body of an animal.

  For what must have only been a few minutes but had felt like an eternity, she’d thought she’d never be able to become a woman again. It had been her worst nightmare turned into a terrifying reality. She’d almost felt the slippery ice under her paws, heard the echo of a furious voice...

  And then another voice had cut through her panic. With every reason to be as frantic as she was, Justin had remained calm and confident. She’d clung to the sound of his voice and the comforting touch of his hands as if she was lost in a blizzard, and he was the ranger come to rescue her.

  He’d saved her. Not just by treating her wound, but by using nothing but his voice and hands to rescue her from a fate worse than death. Without him, she could have lost her humanity forever.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “You saved my life.”

  “Thank you,” he replied softly. “You saved mine. Took a bullet for me. You’re not supposed to do that. That’s supposed to be my job.”

  He had been walking smoothly and carefully, but his foot came down on a loose cobblestone, jolting him forward. The shock ripped through her entire body. She choked back a cry of pain.

  “Sorry,” Justin murmured. “I know how much it hurts. We’re not far now. What can you feel under your hands?”

  Surprised by the question, she had to concentrate even to figure that out. She had her arms draped around his neck. “Your shirt.” She moved her hand a little. “Your skin.” It was smooth and warm, good to touch. “Your hair.”

  “Try rubbing some of my hair between your fingers. Pay attention to how it feels.”

  She obeyed. It was silky, almost hot from the sun. The pain faded from her awareness as she tried to feel the individual strands, how they slipped through her fingers...

  ...and then they were in cool shade, going up a flight of stairs. They’d reached the apartment, she realized. They were safe. Home.

  Justin laid her gently down on the bed, locked the door, got out the medical kit he’d packed in his duffel bag, and examined her. She lay still, watching him. His sharp features were taut with worry, but they relaxed by the time he was done.

  “No broken bones,” he said. “No shock. It’s painful and you lost some blood, but it’s not a serious injury. At least, not for a shifter. If you rest today and tomorrow, you should be up and about the day after.”

  “Perfect timing.” The day after tomorrow was Carnival.

  “No pressure. If you’re not up to it by then, I can tackle Bianchi myself.”

  “No—I won’t let you go alone—” She tried to grab his arm, but sharp pain lanced through her shoulder. She couldn’t repress a moan.

  “Easy. Nobody’s going anywhere right now. Let me get you something for the pain.” He filled a syringe and gave her a shot. “Take a deep breath. Again. One more. How do you feel now?”

  Just like that, the pain was gone. So was the sick dizzy feeling, along with the inability to focus. Fiona could hardly believe it. “That was fast.”

  “Let me know when you need more. This should hold you for tonight, though. I’m going to change the bandage now. Close your eyes if you’re squeamish.”

  “It’s my body,” Fiona pointed out, and kept her eyes open.

  Despite the circumstances, she liked watching him work. His hands moved so deftly, and he was so quick and confident. It was only a few minutes before he was done, and he pulled the blankets over her.

  “Do you want to sit up or lie down?” he asked.

  “Sit up.”

  He put his arms around her and helped her sit up, stuffing pillows behind her back. “How’s that? Comfortable?”

  “Yes, thanks.”

  “I’ll make you some tea. It’ll help with the blood loss.”

  Now I know what he was like before Apex got him, Fiona thought as she watched him make the tea.

  “Your patients must have loved you,” she said.

  “My patients had usually just gotten shot in Afghanistan, so they would’ve loved anyone who was trying to help them instead of trying to kill them.”

  She looked at him. “You can’t tell me that’s all there was to it. If you ran into some crying civilians, who’d be better at calming them down, you or Shane?”

  “You’d be surprised how comforting Shane can be when he puts his mind to it. But yeah, it comes a bit more naturally to me.”

  “Would you want to be a medic again?” she asked.

  He looked up from pouring tea into a mug, his dark eyes thoughtful. “I don’t know. I hadn’t thought about it. I hadn’t... Nah, I shouldn’t talk about this now. You’re hurt, you need to rest.”

  “I am resting. What were you going to say?”

  “I’ll tell you while you drink your tea.” He sat down beside her, blew on the tea, then held it out to her. “Careful. It might feel a bit heavy.”

  She took the mug, but as he’d warned her, it felt heavier than it should. Justin caught her hand and helped her support the mug before it could spill.

  “Go on,” she prompted him. His hands stayed where they were, keeping hers steady, as she drank her tea.

  “I hadn’t expected to survive taking down Apex,” he said quietly. “And I didn’t much care. I guess you might’ve figured that out.”

  Despite the heat of the tea, his words made her feel cold. “I wondered.”

  “But now...” He looked away, as if he couldn’t bear to meet her eyes. “I found something worth living for.”

  Fiona also looked away. The rush of relief she felt was making her eyes burn, which was strange. Crying was a weakness. She could make her tears flow as part of a role she was playing, but she hadn’t cried for real since she was nine years old. But though no tears came, when she spoke her voice came out as thick as if her throat was clogged with them.

  “I’m so glad, Justin. I thought you’d changed your mind, since we came here. But if you hadn’t, I was going to stop you. I had no intention of letting you just throw your life away.”

  “Seriously?” Now he sounded choked up. “Don’t worry about that. I won’t. I promise.”

  “Good.”

  He cleared his throat. When he spoke again, his voice was back to normal. “So, back to your question, I hadn’t thought about what I was going to do in the future because I hadn’t thought I had one. Now that I do, I still can’t go back to the Air Force. There’s no way I’m getting that close to the government again. So yeah, once all this is over, maybe I would like to be a paramedic. Though it might be a bit... slow... after being a PJ.”

  Fiona nearly bit her tongue on the suggestion that leaped to her mind. Was it too soon? Or perfect timing? Mentally crossing her fingers, she said, “You could join Protection, Inc. It’s got all the excitement you could possibly want. And you’d get to do medical stuff sometimes.”

  Justin didn’t react badly, but he didn’t jump up and down for joy, either. He m
erely said, “Shane invited me too.”

  “I know.”

  “I told him I’d think about it.”

  “And?”

  “I’m still thinking about it. Here...”

  He tilted the mug so she could get the last drops of tea. In that gesture, like when he’d bandaged her shoulder or helped her sit up, she could feel his caring as strongly as if it was transmitted through the palms of his hands. He was like that with all his patients, she was sure. No wonder they’d loved him. Having all that concern and attention directed at her was comforting, but something about it brought back that burning in her eyes.

  Because he loves you so much, purred her snow leopard. It fills your heart until it overflows.

  Because he doesn’t love me, Fiona corrected her. Because none of this is personal. He’d be like this with everyone. And I want it to be just for me.

  I see, the big cat purred. So it’s like that, huh?

  Fiona realized that in her annoyance at her snow leopard’s complete misreading of the situation, she’d said things she’d normally keep to herself. Things she’d normally keep from herself. She wished she hadn’t. Her eyes burned more than ever.

  To her great relief, Justin got up to wash and put away the cup. That gave her time to collect herself.

  I’m the snow queen, she told herself. I don’t cry. Tears are hot liquid. Everything inside me is ice.

  She pictured that ice closing around her heart in a glassy shield. The burning subsided. When he returned, she was back to her regular cool self.

  “Do you want to sleep in what you’re wearing?” he asked. “Or shall I get you your nightgown?”

  The last thing she wanted was to get into that hot, scratchy granny-gown she’d bought at the airport in the hope of discouraging lustful thoughts (both his and hers). But she never slept in her clothes. On the other hand, tonight was the one night that she could strip naked, if she liked, and neither she nor Justin would be tempted to make a move.

  “Could you bring me the nightgown I wore in the Ritz?” she asked.

  He brought her the short satin nightgown and laid it on the bed. In a matter-of-fact tone, he said, “I can help you get into it.”

  She tried to raise her left arm, winced, and said, “Thanks.”

  He put on a professional manner as he helped her out of the black dress and into the nightie, keeping his eyes fixed on her face the entire time. His face flushed a faint pink in the few seconds she was naked, but he neither said nor did anything that would have been out of place from a doctor to a patient. A minute later, he’d tucked the blankets back around her.

  Her gaze went toward the bathroom as she recalled the sleeping arrangements of the night before. Following it, Justin said, “You’re not sleeping in the bathtub tonight.”

  Fiona wasn’t sure she was even capable of getting out of bed, but she had to put up at least a token resistance. “If you’re on the floor—”

  “If you want me to, I’ll share the bed.”

  She blinked, startled by how easily he’d given in. “You will?”

  “Do you want me to?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I will.”

  She must have still looked confused, because he gently brushed a lock of hair away from her face and said, “I left Shane when he was hurt and needed me, and I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. I won’t leave you now. Not even to go as far as the floor, if you want me closer.”

  “I want you closer.”

  “Then I’m here.” He pulled off his shirt, giving her a tempting view of his shoulders and chest. Also of his treasure trail, which he hadn’t dyed to match his hair. It drew a bright copper line down the groove between his abs before vanishing at his belt buckle. “Do you mind if I just sleep in my boxers? That’s what I normally do, but...”

  She snickered. “You can lay off the vomit-colored pajamas.”

  “I was thinking of them as fungus-colored, myself. But close enough.”

  He stripped down to his boxers, then got into bed with her and clicked off the light. Moonlight shone through the window, giving his hair a gloss like a raven’s wing. With a hopeless longing, she wished she could stroke it. Not because it would make her feel better, though she was sure it would. Just because she wanted to.

  Quietly, Justin said, “You’ve never been wounded before, have you?”

  “No. I’ve gotten some cuts and bruises. Nothing serious. But you said this wasn’t serious either.”

  “Medically, it’s not. But it’s a bullet wound and it’s not that far from your heart. Three inches lower and you could have died.”

  “This is a cheery conversation to have right before I go to sleep,” Fiona said, uncomfortable. She didn’t know where he was going with it, and she wasn’t sure she’d like where he ended up.

  “I’m talking about it because it’s the kind of thing shakes people up. If you wake up in the night and need anything—another shot of painkiller, some water—or if you want me to hold you—just say my name. I don’t want you lying there suffering and embarrassed to say so. If you need a little help, that’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

  Yes, it is, Fiona thought. Then she reconsidered. Justin had sounded like he was speaking from personal experience.

  In all the time they’d been together, she’d never asked him about the scar on his chest. Nor had he pressed her for any details of her past. It was as if they’d both decided to treat their time together as if it had neither a past nor a future, but existed only in a beautiful and temporary bubble of present time.

  But he was so close, nearly touching, that it felt as if she’d been given permission to get more intimate.

  “You’ve been wounded,” she said.

  He swallowed. “Yes.”

  “Did it shake you up?”

  “Yes.”

  It wasn’t like him to answer in monosyllables. She knew she was pushing him and hoped it wasn’t too far. But there was something she wanted to know.

  “Did you need help?”

  “I—” Justin fell silent. Just as she opened her mouth to tell him to forget it, he burst out with, “I can’t talk about it, I’m sorry, I just—”

  “No, I’m sorry,” she interrupted. “Forget about it. I shouldn’t have asked.”

  He took a deep breath. When he spoke again, he sounded calmer. “Don’t worry about it. Now go to sleep. You need your rest.”

  “Good night, then.”

  “Good night.” He brushed his fingers over her uninjured shoulder, light as a feather, then turned over to face away from her.

  She closed her eyes. The pain was gone, and she felt nothing but an overwhelming sleepiness. Despite what Justin had said, she doubted she’d wake him up with demands for water or painkillers, let alone for him to hold her. She couldn’t imagine asking for such a thing. Talk about needy!

  Not expecting to wake till morning, she fell fast asleep.

  She awoke in an unlit room flooded by silvery moonlight. Her shoulder didn’t hurt, but it felt stiff and heavy. For a moment, she was confused, first unsure where she was, then puzzled by why she was in the bed rather than the bathtub. Then memory flooded back, along with the knowledge of what must have woken her.

  Justin lay rigid on the bed beside her, his hands clenched into the pillow, every muscle tensed. Though the room was cool, sweat beaded on his forehead. His hair was wet with it. He muttered something Fiona couldn’t catch, then made a choked sound as if someone was strangling him.

  “Justin?”

  He awoke with a gasp, black eyes opening wide and unseeing, and flung off the covers, shouting, “No! Stop!”

  “Justin,” Fiona said, keeping her voice calm and low. “You’re safe. You were dreaming. You’re here with me now.”

  He rolled over, still breathing hard, and raised himself on one elbow to look at her. She watched his expression shift from fear to confusion, and then to concern.

  “Do you need another shot?” he asked. “I’ll get m
y kit.”

  “My shoulder’s fine. I woke up because you were having a nightmare.”

  “Oh.” Justin lay back down, but he didn’t relax. His whole body was shaking as if he had a fever.

  Cautiously, unsure if her touch would be welcome, she laid a hand on his shoulder. As if he’d only been waiting for that permission, he threw an arm around her and clutched her like a drowning man snatching at a rope, pressing his cheek against hers. She could feel his chest heaving in wrenching breaths like sobs, but she couldn’t tell if the wetness on her skin was sweat or tears.

  Fiona held him tight, stroking his hair and back. She couldn’t tell him it was all right—it clearly wasn’t—so she said again, “You’re safe. You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

  Gradually, his shaking subsided to occasional tremors, and his breathing evened out. He said something, but it was too muffled for her to understand.

  “Sorry, I didn’t...” she began.

  Raising his head, he said, “They strapped me to a table. The metal was so cold. I fought and fought, but I couldn’t break loose. A doctor bent over me. He...” Justin broke off, shuddering.

  Tear out his throat, hissed her snow leopard. He hurt our mate.

  “I’ll kill him for you,” Fiona said, quiet but certain. “Just tell me his name.”

  Justin managed a faint smile. “That’s sweet of you. But you’re too late. Shane already did.”

  “Then the next time I see Shane, I’ll thank him with a box of chocolates.”

  He let out a huff of breath in surprised amusement. “Put a ribbon on it.”

  “Oh, absolutely. A big red one. In a bow.”

  Justin gave a deep sigh, and she felt a little of his tension ease. “You do that.”

  He lay quietly for a while, his breath warm on her throat. Then he said, “Fiona?”

  “Yes?”

  Seconds ticked by before he replied. “This is something I’ve never told anyone. I remember the first time I jumped out of a plane. Once my chute opened, it was fun. But that first moment that I looked down, the moment before I jumped, I was fucking terrified. And my first time in combat, same thing. I was fine once it started. But that moment before...”