Page 117 of The Devoted Game

He turned slightly to the right. “Grace?”

“You almost got yourself killed going off on your own like that,” she fussed. “Too many stitches to count in your wrist and major surgery to remove the bullet and your appendix, since the slug lodged there.” She exhaled a weary breath. “But you’re alive.”

He inventoried various aches and pains and the damned hellacious fog in his head. “You sure?”

“You scared me.” Her big dark eyes glittered. “I could kick your ass for that, McBride.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” he said with the best lecherous grin he could produce under the circumstances. His grin slipped into a frown. “What about ... Nameless?”

“He’s dead.” She gave him a knowing look. “All of him this time. He and the other one were accomplice killers. They’d been friends since grade school.”

Ryan’s confusion deepened. “How’d you get all that?”

“This guy had their real names tattooed on his chest right above his heart. Plus, he talked the whole time we were locked in neighboring storage units. We’re hoping this new information might help solve any other murders they may have committed.”

Ryan wished his throat wasn’t so dry. “I’m glad that’s over for you.” He searched her face. “He didn’t hurt you?”

She shook her head. “I beat the hell out of him before Pierce shot him.”

Pierce. Oh yeah. The anesthesia had almost succeeded in helping Ryan to forget about him, but he was damned proud of Grace handling herself so well.

Grace sighed, fiddled with the edge of the sheet. “Pierce offered me a position at Quantico.”

Yeah, Ryan would just bet he had. “I hope you told him no.” He hadn’t exactly meant for the statement to come out so forcefully. He was damned surprised he had the strength.

“I did. My parents like it that I’m here. I’m beginning to fit in with the others.” She shrugged. “I guess I should stay. There’s room for advancement here too.”

“Good.” He tried to moisten his lips again. It wasn’t working too well.

“Here.” She reached for the cup and straw on the table next to his bed. “You can have water now.” She touched the straw to his lips, and he drew in a much-needed drink.

“What about you?” She set the cup aside. “You heading back to the Keys as soon as they release you?”

He wondered if that was hope in her eyes. She wouldn’t hold his gaze long enough for him to see. Sure sounded like it in her voice.

“Depends.”

Her gaze slid back to his. “On what?”

“On you,” he confessed.

“Does that mean if I ask you to say,” she ventured noncommittally, “that you will?”

“I’m reasonably confident I could be persuaded.”

She kissed his lips, smiled timidly, and murmured, “Will you stay?”

“You’d be getting a shitload of baggage,” he reminded her.

“I have baggage too,” she reminded him.

“I do like my sex kinky,” he added.

“I think I can handle that,” she tossed back.

“I guess the answer is yes, then. I’ll stay. Until you grow weary of me.”

“Won’t happen,” she countered. “Just so you know, there’s an offer on the table from the director for full, permanent reinstatement, including back pay, if you’re interested.”

“The offer’s flattering, Grace, but I’m not so sure I want that—except maybe for the back pay.”

“Whatever you do, it doesn’t matter.” She gently swept the hair back from his brow. “As long as you’re with me, the rest will fall into place.”

She was right.

Her. Him. Together. The rest was just bullshit anyway. “Have you ever had sex in a hospital bed, Grace?”

She laughed, then kissed him and whispered, “When you’re well enough, we’ll have sex anywhere you want. Within reason,” she qualified.

Ryan grunted. “Finally, a reason to wake up every morning.”