Page 160 of Savage Hearts

When the worst of it is over and she’s sniffling, I murmur, “They’re in the air now. They’ll be here in about nine hours.”

“How is she? Did he say anything? Is she hurt?”

“She didn’t appear to be hurt.” I hesitate, not wanting to fan the flames. “But he did say she was hysterical.”

Sloane lifts her head and stares at me with watery red eyes. “Well, no wonder! After what she must’ve been through, she’s hysterical with relief, the poor baby! She’s dying to come home!”

That wasn’t exactly the way Spider put it, but I’ll hold off on that. I need to set eyes on Riley myself to judge her condition.

“Why don’t you try to get some sleep?”

She says irritably, “I’ll sleep when she’s here. If I were to lie down now, I’d just stare at the ceiling.” She groans and covers her face with her hands again. “Oh, god. She hates me. She has to. It’s my fault all this happened in the first place.”

“Let’s focus on the positive, love. We got her. She’s coming home. Come on, let’s get you to the sofa. I’ll make you a drink.”

I help her stand and settle her onto the couch. Then I kiss her forehead and go into the kitchen to pour us a healthy measure of whiskey.

I have a feeling we’re going to need it.

Ten hours later, I’m proven right when Riley bursts through the door ahead of Spider, channeling the energies of Katniss Everdeen fromThe Hunger Gamesand the samurai sword–wielding assassin lass fromKill Bill.

If they were both high on methamphetamines and had been living in a tree in the woods.

“Send me back!” she shouts as a greeting. “Send me back right this fucking minute!”

Then she stands in the middle of the living room with her legs spread open and her hands clenched to fists, breathing hard and growling.

Sloane is frozen in shock beside me. Her lips are parted and her eyes are wide. She can’t believe what she’s seeing.

Understandable, because her little sister obviously isn’t her little sister anymore.

She’s transformed into some kind of punk pixie version of Rambo.

Her bleached hair shows three inches of darker roots. She standstaller because of the military-style boots she’s wearing. Her trousers are the tactical kind hunters wear—with lots of Velcro pockets for gear—and her tight black T-shirt shows off her surprisingly well-developed biceps muscles.

And those eyes. Christ.

They were always hidden behind thick glasses before, but now the glasses are gone and her eyes are flashing golden-bronze fury all over the room.

Sloane says tentatively, “Riley?”

Riley’s furious gaze slashes to her. She looks her up and down, then says curtly, “Hi, Hollywood. Tell your man to get my ass back onto a plane to Russia within the hour, or I’ll burn this house down.”

Spider walks slowly into the room behind Riley. Horrified, Sloane looks to him for help.

He shakes his head. “She’s been like this since I picked her up.”

“Abducted me,” Riley corrects.

Sloane cries, “Herescuedyou.”

“Really? Did he ask me if I wanted to leave? Because if he did, I sure didn’t hear it. I was too busy kicking and screaming.”

“Of course you wanted to leave! You were inRussia!”

“Yeah. Guess what? That’s where I live now.”

Sloane puts a hand to her throat and pauses for a beat to gather herself. “Let’s take a step back for a minute. Declan, will you please get us all a drink?”