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“Y-yes. I th— I thought—” Fear for him still held her in its grip.
He pulled her to him, clamping powerful arms around her. “It’s okay now.” After a moment, he turned to Bertrand. “Are youall right, my friend?” At his nod, Nick stretched out his hand. “Give me the gun.”
After Bertrand handed it over, Nick said, “Take her into the living room, okay? Get her a drink. Then call Jameson. Tell him to contact the police.”
Belle shook her head. “But?—”
“Go, Tinkerbelle.” His voice brooked no argument.
Bertrand fussed and settled her into a sofa, brought her a glass of water, and called Nick’s chief of security.
About to take a sip, she had a niggling thought. There was a phone in the kitchen. They could have made the calls from there.
She slammed the glass down, kicked off her remaining shoe, and raced back to the kitchen. Bertrand and the two bodyguards who’d burst in were hot on her heels.
Nick was crouched over Mwana, the gun pointed over the rebel’s heart, deadly intent on his face. Her husband had killed in the line of duty. She knew what he was capable of.
“No, Nick! Don’t do it. Please.”
His eyes remained on the man. “He threatened your life, not once, but twice. I can’t let him live.”
“Yes, you can. You’re not a cold-blooded killer,” she pleaded, placing herself in his line of sight. “The police will be here in a minute. And he—” she looked down at the man, writhing on the floor as he regained consciousness “—he’s not going anywhere.”
Nick’s deadly gaze remained on Mwana. “He threatened to take you from me.He held a goddamned knife to your throat!”
“But if you go through with this, you’ll be sentencing us both to death, Nick, don’t you see? You’ll go to prison, and I can’t live without you. It would kill me if you were taken away from me. I love you, Nick. Please put the gun down.”
Slowly he looked up at her. Her heart caught at the emotion blazing in his eyes. His chest heaved. Then he shook his head. “I can’t?—”
“Yes, you can. Do it for me.”
He remained frozen for endless moments. Then he stepped back and lowered the gun. His bodyguards rushed forward and secured Mwana.
The police arrived minutes later, closely followed by the paramedics. Mwana was taken away. Nick gave a brief statement while the medical technicians examined and treated the small knife wound on Belle’s neck.
Through it all, she was only aware of Nick, a strong and powerful presence beside her, a look in his eyes that made her heart stall, then soar with hope, fluttering around inside her chest like a wild bird seeking freedom.
Could it be that Nick loved her, after all? As if in answer, the hand that held hers tightened.
Finally, they were alone. A mildly concussed Bertrand had been taken to hospital for observation, and the bodyguards were once again stationed outside the door.
She looked around and shuddered. “I can’t stay here.”
Nick’s hand caressed her cheek. “I know,agapi mou. Neither can I. We’ll check into a hotel for tonight. Come.”
In their bedroom, Nick helped remove her ruined dress, and she replaced it with a pair of jeans and a sweater.
He held her close in the car as they sped away from the apartment. In their suite at the hotel on a quiet street in Mayfair, she took off her clothes and showered. Dressed in a bathrobe, she returned to the bedroom to find Nick hanging up the phone.
He looked at her, and her heart resumed its pounding.
“Come and sit down, Tinkerbelle. There’s something I need to tell you.”
The hammering increased to a thunderous crescendo. Barely able to speak, she sat on the bed and picked up her hairbrush, needing something to do with her hands as she watched him pace.
He stopped in front of her, took a ragged breath and released it in a harsh exhale. “Back in the kitchen, you said you loved me.” She blinked, then she murmured, “Yes, I love you.”
“How do you know?” He looked genuinely puzzled.