Larkin stared at a blank white arch six inches in front of her face. After the paramedics immobilized her on the stretcher and forbid Beckett entry into the ambulance, numbness set in. Hysterics weren’t an option. The longer she stared at nothingness and the louder the machine whirred around her, the more it looked like the route to go. She wanted answers, and no one was giving them to her.

They’d taken Douglas first. His blood still stained her hands. Along with Lucas’s and her own.

Slowly, the whoop whoops of the CT stretched their tempo. The technician’s voice came over the speaker by her head. “Great job, Miss Ashford. Just a minute more and we’ll have you out of there.”

She waited and waited. The minute stretched to two. Then three. Panic bubbled to the surface, but she breathed through her nose and released it out her mouth. Once. Twice.

The table shimmied to life, mechanically shifting her toward the light at the end of the literal tunnel. A large, warm hand wrapped around hers. It contrasted the petite tech’s one hundred percent.

“Miss Ashford.” Beckett’s steady gaze calmed the rattle of her frayed nerve endings.

“How …?”

He wore a white coat. A stethoscope hooked around his neck and a badge with his picture and someone else’s name was clipped to the coat pocket.

“I have friends in strategic places.” His lips crooked up on one end. It was the best medicine they could give her.

“Of course, you do.”

“Speaking of friends, yours are about to break down the door to get to you.” He unclipped some straps as though he’d done it a thousand times before.

“I bet they are.” She hated causing them stress. When he unfastened the strap that freed her head, she blinked. “Are you a doctor?”

“Hell no,” he scoffed. “But I have extensive field training and good news.”

“I could use some of that about now.”

Beckett’s stunning face levered over hers. His gaze drank her in, and she did the same. It’d been too long since she’d seen him, really seen him. “You have no cranial bleeding.”

“Okay.” Her heart stuttered. At that moment, whether he felt anywhere near the same way or not, she knew without a doubt that she loved this man.

“Just okay? I expected you to be a little happier than okay.” He ran his thumb over her swollen lip.

“You’re here. Nothing else matters.”

“Fuck, Larkin.” His gaze warmed.

“What?”

His head shook. He stepped out of her line of sight. Was he scared away by her declaration? It was nothing near the declaration stamped on her heart and swimming in her mind. She stared at the blinding florescent light above and thought about how she’d shunned Lucas. If Beckett denied her, would she become a maniac like Lucas had?

No.

But she’d hurt like hell for a long time, and that was okay.

Wheels squeaked across the floor, stopping close to the CT machine. “Here.” Beckett’s arms looped around her back. “We’re going to go slow.” True to his word, he eased her to sit. A gurney waited next to the bed. The top of it was folded into a reclined sitting position. He sat on the flat part of it, his body cuddled up next to hers. He held her to his chest for a long minute. They didn’t rock. They became the rock, a solid coupling of two minerals.

Too soon, he eased back. His hand braced her face.

“You make me want to forget everything else.” He smoothed a thumb over her brow. His gaze danced from her aching brow to her mouth and back. “And I can’t do that.” He sighed. “Too many people are counting on me.”

“I don’t want you to forget anything for me.”

His brow hiked. “What about your friend Bronson?”

She reached a hand up to tell him exactly how she felt about him. Knowing there was other people’s blood on your hands was vastly different than seeing broken skin, swollen cuts, and crusted red on every inch of what had been well-manicured hands. Her mind stalled.

“Shit.” Beckett covered the evidence with his hand. “I should have waited.”

“No.” She latched onto his hand. “No, you shouldn’t have. I … I …”

“You just went through hell.” He eased her onto the gurney and straightened the blankets covering the hospital gown they’d slipped her into before shoving her into the machine. The rolling bed shifted beneath her. “We’ll get you cleaned up. You’ll need some sutures and more IV fluids. They’ll keep you overnight.” He grabbed the rail next to her and prepared to move them out of the small sanctuary he’d found for them.

“Beckett?”

“It’s okay, Larkin.” He rolled them forward.

She rested her horrific hand atop his. Their progress stopped. “You looked a little too comfortable in hell.”

He’d entered the battle without pause. He’d controlled the most horrifying situation she’d ever experienced without blinking.

“I am.” He laughed. “Too comfortable in hell.” His head hung. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t. Not after that first night.”

“I killed a man in front of you.” His lips pressed together. The beard he’d grown since he’d left her at the side of her building shifted with his working jaw.

He was so warm. So strong. So haunted.

“If you say Bronson is not what he seems, I know he’s bad. I trust you.”

“You met me less than three weeks ago and know nothing about me.” His eyes closed on a growl.

“I know the important things. You’re good. You’re who I want when I’ve never wanted anyone. You’re good to me. And you like me even though you don’t want to.”

“Like you?”

“Yeah.” She smiled.

“You need to work on your terminology.” He rolled her toward the double doors.

“Why?” Larkin pulled the blanket closer to her chin, sure a thousand people were going to be on the other side of it with cameras flashing.

“Like is too tame a word.”

Her toes curled, sending fresh pain to the abrasions on her heels. They entered a bustling hallway. The media didn’t bombard them, but a lane of fast moving gurneys did. Beckett wheeled her around, masterfully avoiding corners and patients.

“Douglas?” Why hadn’t she asked sooner? She had asked the CT tech and the nurse, but no one had been able to tell her shit.

“He’s next on my list.” He stopped in front of a cloth curtain. “First things, first.” His knuckles brushed her hair back, and then he stepped to the end of the gurney. His head disappeared behind the curtain. “Promises, remember them,” he demanded.

Who was he—

“We promise,” Libby’s strong voice carried above the rest.

Tears filled Larkin’s eyes.

Beckett slipped from behind the curtain and looked at her. “Are you ready for them?”

“Yes.” Her tears came in earnest. “Thank you.”

He shoved the curtain wide. Her three best friends stood in the small, impersonal space, clinging to one another. Marlis’s makeup created tracks of black and milk white down her cheeks, and she had her hand clamped over her mouth. Genevieve hugged Mar close, lifted her free hand, and waved Larkin into the room. Libby stepped forward and helped Beckett maneuver her behind the curtain.

“I hear you put up one hell of a fight.” Libby smiled so big. She blinked back tears. “That’s my girl.”

“Of course, she did. She looks like hell,” Gen quipped.

Marlis’s sobs slipped through her fingers.

“Jesus, I’ve never trusted a woman. How’d I think I could trust four at once.” Beckett’s stern gaze slid from Mar to Gen to Libby and finally landed on hers. “Your tears kill me, you know?”

“They kill me too,” she agreed.

“I know.” Beckett pressed his hand to her collarbone. His fingers grazed across her sore neck. “The nurse will be in shortly to stitch you up.”

He shifted to leave.

Larkin grabbed his arm. “You can’t do that?” She didn’t want him out of her sight, but she didn’t want to say it.

“Not on your precious skin.” He leaned close and pressed his cheek to the top of her forehead. “I’ll be back after I check on Douglas.”

“Thank you.” She squeezed him and then released her hold.

They watched him leave without a word.

Her heart burst in a fountain of confetti and gushy-mushy warmth. It coursed through her body, easing the pounding of her head and the aches and pains that dogged her heels. She’d always thought love hurt, but love overrode everything. Even hell.

“Holy shit.” Libby rounded on Larkin. “That’s the guy from the roof?”

She grinned like a lunatic. Surely, she looked like one.

“No wonder you didn’t want to give him up,” Libby said.

Genevieve fanned herself, and Marlis, by default. “He’s scary. Sexy scary.”

“Gen.” Mar shoved her shoulder. “He’s nice.”

Nice? He was all those things and so much more.

“They wouldn’t let us see you because we weren’t family,” Genevieve scoffed. “Like they know what family is.” She scooted herself and Mar closer.

“I’m so sorry,” Marlis simpered.

“I look like hell, but I’ll be okay.” Larkin believed it with all her heart … just as long as Douglas pulled through.

“If I hadn’t left you …” Marlis’s eyes clamped shut. Her petite chest heaved.

Guilt was an unrelenting bitch. Larkin knew from experience.

“Marlis McCain, it’s not your fault.” Her head pounded with each word. “Tarin and Lucas are to blame.” She wanted Beckett back. He dulled the edges of the pain.

“One is in custody and the other is dead,” Libby announced.

Did they know how Lucas died? Did they know what she’d been through? What Douglas had endured?

“If you’d been there, who knows what he’d have done to you.” Her head shook. Once was enough to teach her better. “I don’t want to think about it.” She reached for Mar and realized again that her hands were repulsive.

Marlis, like Beckett, didn’t seem to care. She stepped forward and took hold. “I’m so glad you’re okay. You’re so strong, Larkin.”

The other girls gathered in close. Their arms, their love surrounded her. The pounding in her head eased. Love was everything. “I love you crazy ladies.”

Each said the thing they’d never said to one another for the life of their friendship. Each meant it. They stood or sat around her small gurney. She was lucky. Despite her mother’s death and her father’s life, she had amazing friends. Why had it taken a mysterious man and a near-death experience for her to truly embrace it?

Douglas wouldn’t have any of this when he woke up. If he woke.

Her heart beat inside her chest stronger and more sure than ever before. Yes, he would. He had her.

“Let’s get you cleaned up a little before the nurse gets here.” Libby grabbed a rag and an ugly pink bucket of water as though it were just another day at the office. It might have been for her Bureau babe of a friend.

“Sounds good,” Larkin agreed.