Page 135 of Diamond In The Rough

“We’re gonna get out of here.” Archer sets his hands on the end of the bed, drawing Tiia’s startled gaze, then her scared expression when she realizes she has an audience. And not just any audience, but my cop brother. “It’s good to see you awake, Hale.”

“Uh—”

“We’ll be back, and we’ll do the formal introductions another time.”

“Yeah, like when you don’t have a little tube transporting your pee into a bag hung on the side of the bed.” Minka takes Archer’s hand. “Welcome to the family, Ms. Hale. I’m confident everything will work out in the end.”

“Let’s go, V.” Archer slings his arm over her shoulder, tugging her in and pressing a kiss to her temple. “We have a little adventure to go on.”

“My favorite kind.” She meets my eyes before they turn away, grinning like she thinks she’s the world’s sneakiest sleuth. She has no clue I know everything there is to know about her.

The moment Joseph Wilkes transported women and children toward a life of debasement, she was locked in on her target.

For now, at least, I’ll let her think I don’t know who she is when the world isn’t watching. For a while, until I’m ready and she’s ready, we’ll leave it a topic unspoken.

I have other things, more important things, to focus on now, anyway.

“Where’s Jazzy?” Tiia dazedly glances around, from one stark white wall to another. “Roscoe? Where’s Jaz?”

“She was hit, too.” He fastens his hands around hers and holds her still when she tries to lift her head. “She got stitches and some decent sleepy-time drugs once the adrenaline wore off. Got a nomination for the shield of bravery, too.” He presses a kiss to the peak of her knuckles. “She’s okay.”

“Why isn’t she here?” Tiia’s pulse sprints, visible in her throat, and audible via the machines that track every beat. “She’s Jazzy. She’s gonna be by my side unless she’s dead.”

“Not dead,” he promises. “Just stoned. The bullet nicked an artery in her neck. Barely,” he reiterates when she tries again to push up, “flirted with it, basically. But they wanted to operate and reinforce it. To make sure she doesn’t burst open some other time. She’s just down the hall, sleeping this shit off.”

Tears form in Tiia’s eyes. Sparkling and annoying to the woman who loathes such weakness. “I don’t want her to be alone.” Tragically, a single droplet slips from the corner of her eye and dribbles along her temple. “You know how she gets. Leaving her alone is cruel.”

“I can send someone to be with her.” I slide my thumb along her skin and collect the fallen tear. “This place is swollen with people on my payroll, Mo chroí. Anyone you want. Michaels is on the door, and?—”

“I’ll go.” Roscoe opens his hands, untangles his fingers, and slowly pushes to his feet. He’s not pleased, leaving his sister alone with a mobster.

But it seems he doesn’t want a different mobster sitting by Jazzy’s side.

Better the devil you know and all that shit.

Standing over Tiia, he leans in and kisses the center of her forehead. “Don’t die while I’m gone, okay? It would piss me off.”

She snickers, soft, and for only a single second before the movement stings and her breath comes to a hissing stop. “Shittttt.” She places her free hand on her stomach and groans. “What the hell kind of bullets were they using? Morningstar?”

“The kind that pierces a woman’s belly and scares the shit out of every person who loves her.” He hovers for a moment, searching her face. Her body. Her pale skin and shaking hands. He doesn’t want to go, and yet, knows he has to. It’s a contradiction that pounds at the back of my skull and leaves me curious. “Don’t die, Ipo. We came into this world together. We gotta hang till we’re both ready to leave again.”

“Won’t die.” With wires and tubes dangling from her wrist, she grits her teeth in defense of the pain and presses her palm to his stubbled cheek. “Try not to worry so much. It creates wrinkles.”

He chuckles, soft and watery and so fucking desperate, the man I thought I knew, the six and a half foot, broad chested, protective guy I thought Tiia was banging on the side, all changes.

There’s love, and there’s protectiveness. But it’s so fucking pure, it reminds me of Felix.

And shit, if I’m already placing him in a category beside Felix, then my chances of hating the prick trickle from my hands like water in the ocean.

“I’ll be back soon.” He cups his sister’s hand for one last beat, turning his face and peppering a kiss to her wrist. Then placing her arm down, he shoots an angry glare my way. “You stay with her till I’m back. Wilkes or anyone else comes here to fuck shit up, you shoot first. I’ll deal with the paperwork later.”

“Pretty sure that’s unethical,” I snort, winking for Tiia when she glances my way. “Here I was, thinking he’s a Fed, and so he’s straighter than an iron column. Turns out every fucking badge has their own agenda.”

“Family first,” he rumbles. “Then the job.”

Something I can relate to.

Silence hangs as Roscoe fixes his shirt and turns from his chair. Tiia’s heart rate monitor, a slow, steady beat, the only sound I hear besides the shuffling feet of nurses bustling by in the hall. Then, as Roscoe steps through the doorway, slowing for a moment and glancing back at his sister, he says, “Love you, Ipo. Make good choices.”

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