Take Me Deeper (27 page)

“Then who?” He barked the question like he would at a lower-ranking soldier, as if he expected an answer immediately.

“Shaw doesn't want you,” Iris said unexpectedly. “He wants your brothers.”

An expression of irritation crossed Shaw's face and he raised his hand, looking like he was going to backhand Iris across the face.

“Touch her,” Zane said, his fury cold as a winter blizzard, “and I'll rip your fucking head off.”

Despite the fact that all the power was with Shaw, the man hesitated. Then he shrugged. “Fucking bitch needs to learn how to keep her mouth shut. But she's not wrong. I want to talk to your brothers, Rush in particular.”

“Aww, really?” a new voice said from behind Zane. “Then why didn't you just say so?”

Then a number of things happened at once and Zane was never able to fully figure them all out afterward. All he knew was that the muzzle of the gun aimed at his head fell away, and the asshole with his gun on Iris dropped suddenly to the ground.

He was moving before they even hit the floor, heading straight to the woman in the chair, because whatever had happened to give him this break, he needed to get her out of here. He needed to get her safe.

Someone—a man—shouted while the muffled report of a silenced gun echoed.

Iris jerked, red blooming on the front of her T-shirt, a brilliant deadly flower. But she was smiling as he reached her. Using the knife he'd taken from his boot to cut the ties around her wrists and her ankles, he pulled her into his arms, oblivious to whatever the hell else was happening around him, holding her close.

Her smile was soft, yet very bright, and he felt something inside him begin to fracture, a wall he hadn't realized was there.

“I knew you'd come,” she murmured, sounding smug and satisfied, as if she'd never expected anything else. “I knew you'd come and find me.”

Through the cracks in that wall inside him, a bright, intense current of agony flowed, congealing in his chest, making it difficult to breathe. He forced it away. He'd already fucked this situation up as badly as it could possibly get; it wasn't going to get worse, not if he could help it.

“Don't say anything,” he ordered, because it was the only thing he could think of to say. “Just stay quiet.” Putting his hand over the red stain on the front of her shirt, he pressed down hard.

Iris gasped, her face leaching of color, her skin ghost-white. “Wow…that h-hurt…”

The agony in his chest deepened too, his fingers becoming slippery with blood. “Iris.” He said her name as an order, like the orders he'd given her in bed. “Look at me.”

She'd relaxed in his arms, her small body resting against his, her dark eyes trained on his face. A crease appeared between her brows and she lifted a hand, her fingers trailing along the side of his face in a caress that seared him down to his bones. “Hey,” she whispered. “Don't look so frightened. Everything's going to be okay.”

How had it come to this? How had he lost control of the situation so entirely that here he was, with another woman dying in his arms? A woman he should be reassuring, not the other way around. But he couldn't seem to speak. All he could do was hold her and press down desperately on the gunshot wound in her chest and pray to a God that had long since ceased to listen.

History repeats itself, or hadn't you heard?

“That's my line, baby,” he forced himself to say, trying to calm his desperate fear.

But she only smiled again, the idiot woman. As if she were lying back in that hotel room in his arms and not in a shitty warehouse with a gunshot wound in her chest. “Zane, you jackass,” she whispered. “Of course it's going to be okay.”

He didn't understand her certainty. Didn't she know what was happening? Maybe she was in shock. Yeah, that had to be the reason. “And why is that?” he made himself say.

Her smile softened. “Because I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you, idiot.”

Iris was vaguely surprised to find herself in bed when she woke up. Her head hurt, her mouth was dry, and she felt like shit, so no changes there. But this time at least she was lying prone and she wasn't tied to anything.

No, scratch that, she
was
tied to something. She had a drip in her arm.

She let out a breath and then blinked at the white-tiled ceiling for a couple of moments, trying to figure out why the hell she was in a hospital bed. Because the last thing she remembered was Zane holding her, his brilliant blue eyes bright with agony as he looked down at her.

In fact, there had been such pain in his face she'd thought it had been him who'd gotten shot.

But clearly, since it was her in the hospital bed, it hadn't been him after all.

Another memory rose, of Shaw raising Zane's Glock and turning it on her as Rush and Quinn, and a whole lot of other people she didn't recognize, had suddenly appeared. The men threatening her had gone down and so had the two with the guns on Zane, but Shaw had been too fast. And he'd been holding the Glock.

She remembered the impact of the bullet and then Zane's strong arms drawing her close. Then the horrible pressure of his hand on her chest as he'd tried to stop the blood and the cracked sound of his voice as he'd told her not to speak.

And then…

And then you told him you were in love with him. Excellent going, Callahan.

“Shit,” Iris muttered to the ceiling. “Why the hell did I do that?”

She'd been overwhelmed, that had been the problem. When he'd showed up, coming around the metal shelves with the gun in his hand, her heart had just about leapt out of her chest. She hadn't doubted him, not for a second, and yet to see him there, tall and lean and darkly dangerous, his eyes glittering with a kind of intense, cold focus, had made her almost faint with relief.

He had found her. He had come for her. The only person in the entire world who'd ever come back for her. No one else had. Not her mother, not her father—whoever he was. Not Dylan. No one. No one except Zane.

It was a trap, of course. But even when Shaw had made him put down his gun, Iris hadn't been worried. She trusted him. She knew he'd protect her.

Except for Shaw shooting her, of course, but that had hardly been Zane's fault, or his brothers'. And, hey, she wasn't even dead. Shaw might have been quicker on the draw than anyone expected, but his aim was really shitty.

Abruptly, the door to her room opened and a man walked in. Sadly it wasn't the man she wanted.

“Oh,” Rush Redmond said, pausing a moment. “You're awake.”

“Looks that way.” She tried pushing herself up on the pillow, but stopped when pain jolted through her shoulder.

“Hey,” Rush said, coming quickly over to the bed, dark brows creased with concern. “Settle down there, sweetheart.”

“Where's Zane?”

Rush adjusted her pillows. “He stepped out for a moment.”

But she didn't miss the slight hesitation in Rush's reply. “No, he didn't,” she said, trying to ignore the burst of pain that went through her. A pain that had nothing at all to do with the gunshot wound. “And leave my pillows the hell alone.”

Rush glanced down at her, his unusual turquoise eyes giving her an assessing look. His features were battered, scars running through one eyebrow and slashing along his cheek and jaw, his nose slightly crooked, but somehow they only added to his raw sex appeal. He was a hot guy and he clearly knew it. “No, you're right, he didn't.” Rush's voice was uninflected. “After you came out of surgery, he went to Dallas.”

Iris blinked. “He what?”

“You heard me.” Straightening up, Rush folded his arms, the cotton of his blue T-shirt stretching impressively around his powerful biceps. “What's up with you two? And give it to me straight, sweetheart. I'm not in the mood for bullshit.”

Dallas. Zane was in Dallas. What the hell was he doing there?

Ignoring the disappointment that sat heavily in her gut, she met Rush's uncomfortable gaze. “Tell me what he's doing in Dallas first.”

“I don't fucking know. He wouldn't tell me. But he blew off his promise to Quinn before he left, said he was going straight to Fort Bragg afterward.”

The disappointment got heavier, an iron weight sitting inside her. So he'd just left? Gone without even saying goodbye? After he'd rushed in to rescue her the way he had? It didn't make any sense.

Sure it does. He'd never stay here for you. No one else ever has.

“Oh,” she said, her voice sounding thin and fragile. “I see.”

“Do you?” Rush raised a brow. “ 'Cause I sure as hell fucking don't.”

He was waiting for an explanation, she could tell. Sadly, she didn't have one.

Her eyes felt gritty, the prickle of tears threatening, and she turned her head away, suddenly wanting to be alone. “I'm…I'm a bit tired,” she said thickly. “I think I might need some sleep.”

But there was a finger under her chin, turning her head back, Rush's gaze inescapable. “Hey,” he said gently. “What's going on between you and Zane, sweetheart? Did he hurt you? Is that the problem?”

The fight gradually ebbed from her, leached away by Rush's unexpected gentleness. “No, he didn't.” She couldn't let anyone think that. “He'd never hurt me.”

“I didn't think that was him, but I had to check.” Rush let go of her chin. “So what is it then? He wouldn't leave the hospital until you'd been given the all clear, then he lit out of here like a bat out of hell.”

Iris went limp against the pillows, suddenly feeling genuinely exhausted. “We were together for a little while, in the hotel I mean. I thought…well, I don't know. I was wrong, obviously.” She glanced up at him. “What happened? After I was shot, I mean. I don't remember anything.”

Rush gave her a speculative look, then he shrugged. “Zane tried to carry you all the way to the hospital, the fucking idiot. I had to make him put you down when the ambulance came. Then he tried to come into the operating room with you.” Rush rolled his eyes. “Christ, he was a dickwad. Quinn and I had to hold him back. Actually, I thought he'd be the first one in here when you woke up, but then when the surgeon came out to say you were going to be okay, he left.”

You told him you loved him. That was your mistake.

Yeah, and what a giant mistake that had been.

Anguish curled in her heart, but she ignored it. Maybe she could press the button for more pain relief. With any luck it would be morphine and she could dream happy dreams for days.

“What about Shaw? The cartel?” That was a much easier subject than Zane.

Rush's long mouth curved in a slow, dangerous tiger's smile. “Oh, don't worry about that tool. We took care of him. And the rest of those fuckers. They won't be bothering you anymore, that's for sure.”

“Shaw said he wanted you.”

“Yeah. Some shit went down in prison. I roughed up one of theirs pretty bad and they wanted payback.” He lifted a careless shoulder. “Fucking douches. They shouldn't have involved you.”

“If I hadn't skipped bail, they wouldn't have.” She picked at the edge of the sheet. “I'm sorry. I guess they were using me to get to Zane and then you.”

“Don't sweat it.” Rush's grin turned wicked. “Considering we were using you to get them, fair's fair.”

She wanted to smile back, but she didn't feel much like smiling. Not now. “So what happened? With the cartel, I mean.”

“Oh, Shaw and I had a little talk. Then I gave the prick to the police. He's safe in custody and the sheriff's going to make sure you have some protection, just in case the rest of the cartel decides to make a move on you. I'm thinking they'll be too busy trying to deal with Shaw fucking up to worry about a little fish like you.”

She swallowed. It was weird. With the immediate threat of the cartel no longer hanging over her head, she should have felt happy, or at least relieved. But she didn't. That heavy weight sat in her stomach, making her feel like a swimmer being slowly pulled beneath the waves.

Pull yourself together, Callahan. What about Jamie? No time for feeling sorry for yourself.

“What about my sister?” she asked after a moment.

“Oh, we got a contact in Dallas to check in on her, make sure she was okay, and she's fine.”

This time the relief hit big-time, and she couldn't speak. Not even to say thank-you.

At that point the door to her room swung open again, this time admitting Quinn. His darkly handsome face was set in hard lines, his green eyes even sharper than Rush's. “You're awake,” he said. “Good.”

Rush swung round and met his brother's gaze. “Any luck?”

Quinn didn't reply immediately, coming over to the bed and giving Iris a quick, totally impersonal once-over. “How are you feeling?”

A little weirded out by the Redmond brothers' sudden interest in her well-being, Iris gave him a wary look. “I've just been shot. How do you think I'm feeling?”

Humor glinted briefly in Quinn's eyes. “That good, huh?”

“Look, this might be rude, but can I ask why you two are here?” Iris asked, straight-out. “I mean, it's nice that you are, and I appreciate it. But I'm not sure why you're so interested. Unless it's because you want to return me to Dallas?”

Quinn and Rush shared a look she couldn't hope to interpret, then Quinn glanced back at her. “Zane told us we had to look after you,” he said. “So that's what we're doing. After you're discharged from the hospital, you'll come back to Lone Star. And you can stay there until you're on your feet again.”

A ghost of her old stubbornness gripped her. “Great, but there's a flaw in that plan.”

Quinn raised one straight dark brow imperiously, as if no one had ever questioned him before. “Yeah? And what flaw is that?”

“You haven't asked me first.”

Rush laughed. “I think I like you, sweetheart.”

“Zane was pretty clear,” Quinn said, as if Rush hadn't spoken. “He wanted you to stay with us until you were on your feet.”

“Considering Zane didn't bother to check with me before he started issuing orders about what I can and cannot do, he can go fuck himself.” She knew she was being petulant, but she couldn't help it. She didn't want Zane's brothers looking after her, telling her what to do and what was going to happen next, she wanted Zane.

But he wasn't here. He'd left her just like everyone always goddamn left her. What was wrong with her? What had she done this time? She'd always assumed it wasn't her fault her mom had walked out, that her mom had just been a selfish bitch.

But what if it wasn't that? What if the problem had always been her?

Quinn was silent. Then he flicked a glance at Rush, who nodded and strode to the door, letting himself out of the room without another word.

There was a moment's uncomfortable silence.

Then Quinn said, “Zane called just before. He wanted you to know that he spoke with the people in Dallas and your bond's been taken care of. You're free and clear.”

That should have made her happy. But it didn't. “Great,” she said without enthusiasm. “That's really…great.”

Quinn eyed her. “He also said to check your account. There's some money in there that might help.”

Her throat tightened and she had to look away. Right, so first he'd made her legal problems disappear, and now it sounded like he was making good on his promise to look after her and Jamie. How generous.

Wow, ungrateful much?

Yes, she was being
very
ungrateful and she knew it. But she didn't care. It wasn't what she wanted, not at all. The moment Zane had stalked into that warehouse, gun at the ready, electric-blue eyes on hers, it had been all over.

She'd known in that moment that no one else would do.

It was him she wanted and always would.

“You don't look very happy,” Quinn observed quietly.

“My shoulder hurts.” Iris stared at the sheet under her restless fingers. “And it would have been nice if he could have told me all this himself.” God, she sounded like a complete child.

There was another silence.

“He's being an asshole,” Quinn said at last.

“Yes,” she agreed. “He is.”

“He promised me six months, the bastard. I knew he didn't want to stay, but I thought he'd at least stick around for that.” Quinn paused, then asked, “Do you know what could have sent him away like that?”

There was only one reason that she could think of. One thing that would have made him run. Her greatest and most final mistake.

Iris lifted her chin and met Quinn's sharp gaze. “I think it's because I told him I loved him.”

Zane threw some cash at the driver, then stepped out of the cab at Dallas/Fort Worth, slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder. He'd booked the earliest flight to Carolina that he could, some hideous layovers along the way, but he didn't care. The sooner he was out of Texas, the better.

He didn't stop to question why that was, he just headed through the doors and toward the check-in desk, not pausing to let his brain start asking him uncomfortable questions. Questions like whether Iris had woken up yet and whether she was really going to be okay. Like what was going to happen to her now and whether she'd get her sister back.

You promised her you'd protect her. You chose her.

Yeah, but she'd also told him she loved him. She'd looked at him like he was her own personal hero, like Charlie once had, and he couldn't have that. Not again.

He wasn't anyone's hero, and he didn't want to be. Not when he couldn't save the important people in his life.

So, what? You're just going to run away?