“Yes.” No one was going to stop her, though she didn’t think anyone would protest her going along.
“Good. Because I can’t goddamn stand needles. And I have a feeling I’m gonna be getting a few of those.”
Really? Big, tough guy like him, afraid of needles? “I think you’re right,” she murmured, smiling again as she kissed that same spot on his head. She’d kiss it over and over again until he understood how perfect she thought every part of him was. “But don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone, and I’ll be right there to hold your hand.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Matt covered a wince as he turned to wave goodbye to Tuck, who’d been kind enough to give him and Briar a ride home from the hospital. The local anesthetic they’d injected him with before removing the knife and stitching him back up had worn off a long time ago and he was looking forward to curling up in his bed with Briar for the rest of the night.
The expected paperwork and debriefings would be handled tomorrow, in deference to his injury. He’d insisted that he could take care of it tonight, but under the circumstances the higher-ups had given him the night to himself and he knew enough to keep his mouth shut except to say thank you.
“So this is it,” he said to Briar, leading her up the front walkway to the two-story house he’d bought a little over a year ago. Once inside the door he disarmed the security system and stepped aside to let her enter. She looked around as he flipped on the foyer light, the livid scratches on her face and neck reminding him of when she’d taken Balducci down while he’d been powerless to help or protect her.
Bastard was gonna get what was coming to him. It was a huge relief to know he was no longer a threat to Briar or anyone else.
Matt shut and locked the door behind them, a bit startled to realize it was the first time he’d looked forward to being here since he’d bought the place. It had always depressed him to come home but with Briar here he found himself anxious to settle in with her.
She took off her boots and followed him through the kitchen into the living room. He paused when she stopped, looked back to find her staring at the framed picture of him and Lisa he’d set on the mantelpiece above the fireplace. She was good at hiding her emotions but he could see the uncertainty flitting across her face now, as if she wasn’t certain whether or not she was intruding on his privacy.
Matt crossed back to her and stepped behind her, wrapping his good arm around her waist to bring her back against his body. “I’ve never brought a woman here before.”
She twisted her neck to look up at him in surprise.
“This wasn’t our place. I sold that house a few months after she died. Couldn’t take the constant memories every time I walked in the door and saw the pool in the backyard. I rented an apartment for a few years after that before buying this.” He gazed up at the picture, at Lisa’s gorgeous smile. “She’d want this for me, for me to be happy. You’d have intimidated the living hell out of her with your background, but if you two had met, I know she would have liked you.” He was quiet a moment. “I can take it down if it bothers you.”
“No,” she said, her tone adamant. “I don’t want you to take it down.” She relaxed in his hold, her tension easing. Her hand folded over his where he cupped the side of her ribcage, her fingers rubbing over his wedding band. “I think I’d have liked her too.”
He smiled against her temple. “Yeah, I think so too.” There was such sweetness in her, a side of her she didn’t let many people see. And he planned to move that picture anyway, minimize the reminders of Lisa around his place. He wanted Briar to know she was the number one woman in his life now and didn’t want her to feel like she had to compete with his former wife’s ghost.
“Come upstairs.” He took her hand and led her up the wooden staircase to the master bedroom. As she looked around he was glad he’d bothered to make his king size bed before he’d left for Colorado. Seemed like a helluva lot longer than nine days ago though.
She ran her gaze over him, lingering on the blood staining his skin and shirt. “You need to be cleaned up before you crawl in there. Come on.” She started for the master bathroom, which he was also grateful he’d cleaned recently. While the shower ran she helped him out of his shirt, an awkward procedure with his arm bound to his chest. She found some medical tape and a plastic bag under the sink to cover his bandage with, then stripped and got into the shower with him.
“Just stand still,” she told him, then proceeded to gently wash the blood off his face, chest and arm. Her touch felt like heaven.