Galilee Rising(38)

My mouth drops open, and my gaze whips over to him. "Am I angry at you? I-I-I'm pissed to fuck!" I leap up, eyes bugging out of my head I'm sure. "You assholes woke me up in the middle of the night to have me watch as-as-as you were shot at, then buried in rubble by a fucking psychopath! I-I had to sit here, in this fucking room miles away as you took half a dozen bullets to the chest right in front of my goddamn eyes! I thought you were…" I snap my mouth shut, turning away from him. "Do you have any idea what it's like to watch someone you care about die and not be able to stop it? Because I have firsthand experience, and it's…" Shit, I can't stop the stupid damn tears this time. I violently wipe the offenders away.

More silence, then, "You care about me?"

I spin around, mouth flopped open again. "Of course I fucking care about you, you asshole! Jesus Christ! We had one stupid tiff! That's what friends do. We fight, we talk, we make up. What we don't fucking do is let our friend think we're dead even for a second!"

"I thought…I didn't think…it didn't even occur to me. I'm sorry."

"Well, you damn well should be!" With a sniffle, I wipe my eyes a final time. "Just…don't do it again. Try not to get shot. Period. If something happened to you…I'd fucking kill you."

"I feel the same way."

"Good. Then we're in agreement. Nothing will happen to either of us."

A smile crosses his lips. "I can live with that."

I return it. "You better." I scoff and sit again, shaking my head at the ridiculousness of…everything. "What a fucking day. I get shot at, you get shot. Hell, maybe I am cursed."

"I'm the one who was actually shot," he counters. "If anyone is cursed…"

I glance at his chest. "Does it hurt?"

"My ribs itch like mad, but that means they're healing. I'll be fine by tomorrow."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"No, but thank you," he says with a quick smile.

I smile back. "Well, if it makes you feel better, you were fucking brilliant tonight. That backwards kick you did, that was pretty bad-ass," I chuckle.

"Thank you for informing me about him."

I shrug. "Well friends don't let friends get shot in the back. It's part of the code."

"I…consider you a friend as well." He hangs his head a little again. "And I do trust you. I would tell you who I am, I swear I would, but the others aren't ready yet. I cannot go against their wishes. They…they're all I've had for a long time."

"They're family," I say.

"Yes, I suppose they are." He pauses to clear his throat. "So please don't take it personally."

I pause, working up the courage to ask, "You would tell me? Honestly?"

"On my life."

And I believe him. "Good."

We sit just half smiling at each other for awhile. I drop the smile, and before I can stop myself I reach across and squeeze his gloved hand. He squeezes back before I pull away and rise. That's enough for tonight. "I'm exhausted. I'm sure you are too. We can do the paperwork later."

"No, it won't take too long. I'll do it. You go to bed."

"You sure? I can keep you company."

"No, you've done enough for me tonight. Get some sleep."

I pat and rub his shoulder. "You too." I walk up the ramp, glancing at him to see if he's watching me. He is. "Goodnight, your Lordship," I purr with a cheeky grin.

"Goodnight, Joanna."

Something about the way he says those words makes me warm all over. The feeling doesn't wane as I go upstairs and climb back into bed. Two bad men behind bars, one friendship salvaged, and federal funding for seven free clinics. Not bad for a day's work. I close my eyes.

Maybe tomorrow I'll crack world peace. My partner can help.





CHAPTER EIGHT




Practically Perfect





It's a beautiful day, the last for this week per the weather report, so I intend to take full advantage. World peace can wait. At eleven, after breakfast in bed thanks to the best butler in the world, I saunter my usual route down the beach. I'd run but I'll get enough exercise on my sailboat later. There are just one or two things I have to take care of while Dobbs packs my picnic basket.

A work crew on the beach sets up tables and chairs under a tent while Lexie, dressed in a pink velour track suit with huge sunglasses and coffee tumbler, directs traffic. A late night was had by all. "No, I said eight chairs per table! Twice! Jesus," she mutters.

"Hi," I say. "Hope I'm not interrupting."

"Oh, hello. No just getting ready for the fundraiser. It's such a pain in the ass." She sips her tumbler. "Shit, I'm out. I am not making it though this day without twelve cups of coffee. Come on up. You can help me scream at the cleaners."