Page 137 of Finding Denver

When they open again, he’s there. A dark figure, tall and memorable.

“She’ll never be yours,” he says. His outline shimmers and fades as he looks behind him, then back at me. “Never.”

I hold onto Theo as Ranger walks away and wonder if I dreamed him.

I wonder if he died in a blaze of glory.

It’s my last thought before darkness embraces me.

Chapter 38

Colt

Isit on the hospital bed, my shoulder and arm throbbing. Denver and Finn are with Theo while he gets checked over, and Ronan is still at the burning house, bribing whoever he needs to. I told him and Finn about seeing Ranger again, and our men are still at the airstrip. His plane hasn’t left. If he’s still alive, he won’t leave this city.

My bones ache, and I shift back on the bed and rest against the pillow, groaning softly. The medication is wearing off and I need a fuck load more.

And luck is finally on my side, because the curtain opens and a doctor steps in. He’s around my age, blond, and is reading a chart. “Mr. Harland.” He looks at me. “Rough night.”

I hum in agreement. “Burglary.”

He arches a brow as if he isn’t stupid. “In a burning house? Those burglars weren’t smart.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

He takes off his stethoscope and places the cold disc against my chest, asking me to breathe in. I do, and I eye hisname badge. “Sebastian Whitlock. Sounds like a superhero name.”

“Married name.”

The name knocks on a memory somewhere, but I’m unsure how I’d know him.

“You’re not from New York.”

He pulls back the bandages and examines the wound, and I hiss in pain. “What gave me away?”

“Accent,” I say through gritted teeth.

“I moved here not long ago. Figured a different hospital would be a good change of pace.” We’re quiet while he works, and he puts on fresh bandages. “Bullets went through. You’re lucky.”

Once he’s finished, I wince as I pull on my T-shirt with great fucking difficulty. “I don’t know whether you’ve ever been shot, but it doesn’t feel lucky.”

He smiles as he tidies up the packaging. “I took two in the back once.”

I pause, adjusting my good shoulder as if to remind myself what normal motion feels like. “I didn’t expect that.”

“Neither did I.” He straightens up. “I’d prefer you to stay in so we can monitor your lungs.”

“Too busy.”

He tuts, as if he’s heard it before. “Keep the wounds clean. Don’t get shot again. You’ll be fine.”

He leaves and I take a breath, rubbing my head. This is beyond tired. This is bone fucking exhaustion. But I need to keep moving. I can sleep when I’m home.

I find Denver in the children’s ward, sitting by Theo’s bed, running her fingers through his hair as she stares at him. Finn brought her some clothes from home so she’s in jeans and a T-shirt, her face washed, her hair pulled back.He’s watching her with a concerned smile that I understand.

She has to let him go again. Theo’s mom is on the way. Taf is waiting at the airport for her now, and it’ll be a miracle if she doesn’t press charges. Her son was taken by the husband of a woman who showed up at her house unannounced, sobbing and saying she was Theo’s mom. It’s a fucking mess.

Theo seems fine, though. He has a packet of blueberries between his bare feet, his lips purple as he eats them enthusiastically. When I last held him, he was covered in soot and sweat, but Denver must have cleaned him up and he’s …