Page 69 of Avenging Jessie
Inside, he replayed every second between Brewer aiming at him and Jessie stepping into the line of fire. Tommy insisted he tell them everything, and he did, fighting to keep his cool, calculated self in place so he didn’t punch a wall.
An hour ticked by, and when they finally wheeled her into recovery, her eyes cracked open just enough to find him.
“You didn’t arrest him,” she murmured.
He leaned down, his voice rough. “You didn’t give me the chance, sweetheart. You were too busy taking bullets for me.”
Her lips twitched with the ghost of a smile. “Told you… You needed me.”
He brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. “Yeah. You’re damn right I do. Now, stop talking and get some rest.”
Twenty-Seven
Jessie
The first thingshe noticed was the smell—bleach and antiseptic. The second was the ache blooming from her shoulder, thick and dull under the heavy weight of bandages. The third was the soft beeping at her side, an IV drip snaking into her arm.
Jessie blinked at the ceiling tiles, blurry around the edges. Her throat was dry, her mouth like sandpaper. She turned her head, wincing.
Through the cracked bathroom door, she heard a voice.
Spence.
Low and tight, laced with exhaustion. “Understood. I’ll file the report when we get clearance. Yeah. I couldn’t be happier the bloke is dead.”
A pause. Then, “Hastings is in custody?” His voice lifted, incredulous. “I’ll be damned. I figured he’d take out half the compound before he let you take him alive.” A longer pause. “Roger that. See you in ten.”
Jessie swallowed, her voice rasping against her dry throat. “Spence?”
The bathroom door flew open, and he appeared, dark circles under his eyes, his right hand in a soft brace, his phone in his other. Relief flooded his face as he crossed to her.
“You’re awake.” The look morphed into that steady, calm smirk that usually annoyed her. He clumsily poured water into a plastic cup with a straw. “About damn time, Swan Three. You don’t usually slack off on the job like this. Of course, this is what happens when you take a bullet for your boss and then nearly fall out of a moving car.”
She started to chuckle, but it hurt.
He held out the cup, placing the straw to her lips. His sarcasm left as quickly as it had come as she sipped. “God, J, you scared the hell out of me. On our next mission—if we get one—I’m securing you in bubble wrap.”
The water was too good, soothing her parched throat. She sipped again, too fast, and coughed. “How long have I been out?”
“Eight hours.” He set the cup on the rolling tray next to her bed and gently touched her forehead. “They got the bleeding stopped. You lost a lot of blood, but you’re stable. No major damage, just a whole lot of pain meds and a pissed-off shoulder.”
She tried to sit up—instantly regretted it.
“Whoa.” He eased her back with a hand on her good arm. “Don’t even think about playing tough right now.”
Everything hurt, even with the meds they were pumping into her veins. “And Brewer?”
Please be captured. Please be captured. Please be captured.She couldn’t stand the thought that he was still out there. That this had all been for nothing.
He sat on the edge of the mattress, expression serious but lighter, too. “He’s dead. The impact with the pole crushed the entire front of the car.” At her relieved sigh, he nodded and squeezed her hand. “He’ll never hurt anyone again.”
Thank God. “And Hastings?”
“In a cell. Tried to use a stolen access badge to get out of the sublevel—ran straight into Flynn and a half-dozen CIA HRTs.” Spence gave a crooked smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Tessa said it was poetic.”
Jessie exhaled heavily again, her shoulders relaxing into the bed. Everyone was okay. The bad guys were done. “And the drones?”
“They’re down,” he confirmed. “All of them. The failsafe worked. Pentagon confirmed a full blackout sweep.”
