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Foster blinked, cursing when he realized he was lying on the table, now. “He can try…”
“Rest, buddy. We’ll get you fixed up, then we’ll all wait together.”
Did being dead hurt?
Because that’s all that registered. Pain. Through her head, her ribs, her chest. Deep. Burning. It bled through the darkness, drawing her up for a few moments as she struggled to open her eyes only to plunge her back down.
Burying her in that numbing haze.
Voices echoed in the distance as she drifted somewhere between consciousness and sleep until a loud bang jolted her awake. She bolted upright, looking for whoever had fired the gun, when more of that red-hot pain shot through her shoulder and into her lungs, stealing what little air she’d gulped in.
A man tsked, holding her steady as he leaned in close. “Somehow I knew you’d go from zero to raging war the moment you woke up.”
Mackenzie inhaled, staring up at Foster as he held her close, bracing her weight against his side. Stubble shadowed his jaw, his long hair tousled all over his head. But it was those blue-green eyes that held her focus. Staring at her as if he’d been convinced he wouldn’t see her again. What looked dangerously like the love she felt bubbling through her chest.
She relaxed, groaning when even that small movement shifted her shoulder. “Where…”
Her mouth went dry, her tongue feeling too big to form more words.
He sighed as he grabbed a cup and offered her a sip of water. He smiled when she drank a few gulps. “I know the feeling. Anesthesia’s the worst. And you’re in the hospital where you should be sleeping, but you’re awake, now, because some idiot just tipped over a cart in the hallway.”
“Kash?”
“He’s fine. In fact, everyone’s fine, so you focus on healing, okay?”
“What about Striker?”
“No longer a threat, especially if your father has anything to say about it. He’s been calling in every favor he has to ensure the creep gets tossed in some deep, dark cell.”
She nodded, fading a bit before a few snapshots of the harrowing chopper ride shuffled in her mind. She fisted Foster’s shirt, doing her best to tug him closer. “You flew the chopper!”
“I told you not to count me out. That I just needed the right motivation.” Foster chuckled. “No surprise it was you, sweetheart.”
“But…” Mac motioned him closer with a tilt of her head. “Thank you.”
“Pretty sure you saved me more, but I’m not above accepting your undying gratitude once you’re able to do more than sleep.” He dropped a soft kiss on her nose. “We’ve still got some big plans to cash in on.”
“Let’s go.”
“Oh, no. Chase will have my ass if I bust you out of here. Sleep. We’ll see how you are in the morning.”
She tightened her grip. “Don’t leave.”
He scoffed. “Not a chance. In fact…”
He scooped his hands underneath her and gently shuffled her over, freeing up a quarter of the bed. Then he climbed on, wrapping his arm around her back as he helped her settle across his lap.
She burrowed against him, closing her eyes as everything clicked into place. “Much better.”
“Then, sleep. I’ll see if I can sweet talk Chase in the morning. Get him to be your proxy medic. But for now, I’ve got your six.”
She hummed, fading into the darkness only to rouse sometime later. Light streamed in through the far window, Foster’s arm still wrapped around her back.
He gave her a light squeeze, holding her steady until she stared up at him. “Morning, beautiful. How’s the pain?”
Mac stilled, then cautiously shifted, biting her bottom lip at the deep ache that throbbed through her left side. Less red-hot than before, but still more intense than she wanted to admit.
Foster sighed. “That bad, huh.”