James hadn’t moved. He stared at Elliot, expression unreadable.
“James.” My voice was hoarse.
He looked at me for a second. Then, his knees buckled.
Icaught himbefore he hit the ground. His weight slammed into me, his whole bodyshaking. I gritted my teeth against the pain screaming through my ribs andheld on.
Jamesexhaled sharply, his head dropping forward against my shoulder. “Told you I’d save your ass.”
A breath of laughterescaped me. I let my forehead rest against his temple. “Yeah,” I murmured. “You did.”
I heard Michael in the background, barking orders into his radio. More sirenscut through the air, and a second wave of responders arrived. Somewhere, someone was shouting for a medic.
I didn’t let go.
Jameswasn’t burned too badly—not life-threatening, not like it could have been. That didn’t mean it wasn’tbad enough.
His pulsethudded against my palm,too fast and uneven. The shock was settling in, exhaustion creeping past the adrenaline. “Marcus.” His voice waslow, close to my ear. “Is he…”
I didn’t need to ask who he meant. I turned my head to seeElliot still pinned beneath Michael, his chestrising and falling and his grin finallyfadingas the reality of his situationset in.
Alive.
James let out ashuddering breath.
“Good,” he muttered. Then, after a pause—“I want him to rot.”
There was nothing cold in his voice. Nothing hard. Onlytired.
I held onto himtighter.
Medicsrushed in, the roar of their voices muffled against the ringing in my ears. Someone grabbed my shoulder, trying to pull me away.
“Lieutenant, we need to check your injuries—”
“I’m fine.”
I wasn’t, but James needed themmore.
I guided him down to the pavement, my hands stillon him, refusing to let go until the paramedicsforced me to move.
Michael was stillwatching me. His gaze shifted fromJames to Elliot and then back tome. He gave a single nod.
I swallowed against the tightness in my throat and turned back to James.
His head lolled against the medic’s arm, exhaustiondragging him under, but his fingerstwitchedonce, reaching for something. I grabbed his hand, my grip firm.There.Right there.
James’s breathingevened out. The fire was out, but we both knew thescars would stay.
Chapter twenty-five
Marcus
The key stuck in my lock, metal grinding against metal—the sticking was a gentle reminder that some things remained as they always were. I had to jiggle it twice before the tumbler caught.
James stood close behind me, his breath warm against my neck. We'd finished the long drive back from Coeur d'Alene. The doctors at the local hospital had cleared us both—his burns superficial, my ribs bruised but not broken. We'd endured their questions and prodding silently, communicating only through slight touches and shared glances.
The door finally gave way with a reluctant groan. I stepped inside, James following so close his chest brushed my back. Something about the apartment was instantly different; it was no longer the defensive shelter it had become over the past weeks, but now it was something closer to what it used to be. What it could be again.
