"Drop it," she orders.
For a moment, nobody moves. Then Moran's survival instincts kick in. He releases me and drops his weapon.
Cillian and Orla enter through the main door, flanked by family security. My brother cuts my restraints while Orla checks my injuries with gentle hands.
"You came," I say to Sorcha as she secures Moran.
"Did you think I wouldn't?"
"Hoped you'd be smart enough to stay away."
She holsters her weapon and helps me stand, her touch burning through me even now. "Smart was bringing backup."
I pull her against me before I can stop myself, needing to feel her alive and whole in my arms. She melts into me for just a moment, letting me hold her.
"We need to go," she whispers against my neck, her breath making me shiver.
Outside, federal vehicles mix with family cars. An impossible alliance that somehow worked.
"What happens now?" I ask Sorcha as we reach the cars.
She shows me the laptop bag, then looks up at me with heat in her eyes. "Now we present this evidence and watch some federal agents go to prison."
"And us?"
She glances at Cillian and Orla, then back at me. Her hand finds mine, fingers intertwining. "Now we figure out what comes next."
The warehouse burns behind us as we drive away, corruption evidence secure and my woman safe in my arms. Whatever comes next, we'll face it together.
And tonight, I'm going to show her exactly how grateful I am that she came for me.
CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER 18:NEW BEGINNINGS
The hospital room door locks behind me with a soft click. Eamon's eyes track my movement as I approach his bed, hunger replacing the pain medication haze from yesterday.
"How long until the nurses check on you?" I ask, setting my gun and badge on the nightstand.
His mouth curves into the dangerous smile that first caught my attention months ago. "Twenty minutes. Why?"
Instead of answering, I climb onto the narrow bed, straddling his hips with care for his bandaged ribs. His hands immediately grip my thighs through my FBI-issued slacks.
"Sorcha," he growls, voice rough. "I'm not exactly at full strength here."
"Good thing I plan to do all the work." I lean down, lips brushing his ear. "You nearly died protecting me. Now I want to show you exactly what that means to me."
His grip tightens. "The nurses?—"
"Will mind their own business if they know what's good for them." I bite his earlobe, making him hiss. "This is what I need, Eamon. To feel you alive under my hands."
Three days of watching monitors, counting breaths, praying he'd wake up. Three days of realizing I'd burn down the entire Bureau if it meant keeping him safe.
I work his hospital gown up, revealing the hard planes of his chest marred by purple bruises and white bandages. My fingers trace around the injuries, worshipping every inch of unmarked skin.
"You're mine," I whisper against his throat. "My criminal. My protection. Mine."
