Page 44 of Flint's Battle

She chuckled. “It’s not that bad.”

“The sheets have more color than you do.” He tucked some hair behind her ear. “How’s the shoulder?”

“Sore.”

He arched a brow.

Emery huffed. “It hurts like a son of a bitch. There. Happy?”

“That you’re in pain? Hardly. But thrilled you don’t have more holes in you. That you’re still breathing.”

Those few words set her off. Had tears pooling in her eyes as her chin quivered. She glanced at her lap, closing her eyes as her one good shoulder slumped forward.

Flint placed his hand under her chin, lifting it until she met his gaze. “Emery.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what? Impressing the hell out of me? You took on armed mercenaries with zero weapons, zero backup and all while wearing nothing but a hospital gown and socks. Kicked ass, to boot.”

Emery shook her head. “I did have backup and Moana was the one who downed that guy.”

“But only after you’d handed him his ass. Put yourself at risk of getting shot. Christ, I don’t know how you even got out of the wheelchair. You should have been passed out on the floor, and yet there you were, fighting like a damn badger.”

He tucked some hair behind her ear, warmth spreading through his chest. “You scared the shit out of me, but I’ve never been so proud in my life. That was SEAL-worthy.”

“I had to do something after putting us in that position. I never should have asked you to compromise your security plan just so I could feel normal for a few minutes.”

Flint sighed, tapping his chest. “I’m the one who agreed with Bowie. Who wasn’t watching your room through the window like a hawk.”

“You mean stalker.”

“If I’d been stalking you, you wouldn’t have pulled out your stitches.”

Emery opened her mouth — probably to correct him — but she simply blew out a breath, instead. “How about we make a deal?”

“I hope this is better than the last one because we didn’t even make it to breakfast.”

“Wise ass. And yes, it’s better. I promise not to beat myself up about making an epically bad decision that had you riding to the rescue. Again. And you’ll cut yourself some slack and not claim responsibility for every cut or scrape I get.”

“I can certainly get onboard with that first part.”

“Flint. I love that you don’t want anything to happen to me. That you’re protective while still being supportive and respectful. But I’m a cop. Sometimes shit happens despite my best efforts. You can’t spend the next fifty years agonizing over ever bump I get on the job. You’ll drive yourself crazy.”

The next fifty years.

That’s what she’d said, and it made everything else seem trivial.

Emery paused, squinting a bit before arching a brow. “What?”

He brushed his thumb across her cheek, aware he had that stupid love-sick grin on his face, again. “It’s you. Every time I think I’ve got you figured out, you surprise me. And I’ll gladly go insane if it keeps you out of the ER.”

She snorted. “You missed the whole point of that conversation.”

“No. I really didn’t. Heard the important part loud and clear. Now, what do say to me helping you bust out of here?”

“Just hand me some pants because I think I’ve flashed my ass enough already.”

“Sorry, no pants. But I promise to be the only one admiring your ass.”

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