Authors: Kimberly Kincaid
Skin Deep (29 page)
And then she saw the blood starting to pool at his feet.
“
No
!” Isabella’s scream ricocheted off the walls, filling her ears and her chest and her everything. “No, no, no, no.”
She surged forward at the same time Kellan swayed, catching him awkwardly and lowering him to the carpet, dimly aware of Hollister securing the scene and moving toward the spot where DuPree had collapsed, then Sinclair appearing in the doorway behind him.
“Kellan!” Her heart leaped as his eyes fluttered open, then catapulted against her ribs at the sight of the gaping stab wound on his shoulder. She slapped her hands over his T-shirt. “Okay, it’s okay.
Sam
!” she screamed over her shoulder. “Roll an ambo out here, right fucking now!”
“Copeland and Drake are on their way up,” Sinclair said, placing his hands on top of hers and pressing down with infinite calm. “We had them on standby. You both did great.”
“Isabella?” Kellan groaned, his eyes darting wildly, and she leaned in with a broken nod.
“I’m right here.”
I have your back. I love you
. God damn it, where were those paramedics and why weren’t they moving faster?
“We got him, right?”
Tears spilled over Isabella’s face even though she’d never felt them coming. “Yeah, we got him.”
“Good,” Kellan said.
And then his eyes closed.
K
ellan came to slowly
, although damn, it was a hard trip. He tested his memory before his muscles, keeping his eyes shut as he pushed on the thick fog in his brain and spun back in thought.
Walking over the cracked sidewalk…stinging pain in his neck…Franco throwing him the mother of all beatings…DuPree and those knives, reaching, turning…
Isabella
.
His eyes flew open on a gasp. He regretted it in an instant, when every cell in his body shrieked in pain, the ones in his left shoulder loudest of all, but fuck, DuPree had been right there. He’d been ready to kill them both.
He’d been ready to kill Isabella.
Blood. Blood. There had been so much blood. Oh God, where was she?
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Cool, firm hands framed his face, and Kellan blinked through the shadows to try and focus. “Take it easy. Try not to move.”
He inhaled the sweet smell of coconuts, and thank Christ, she was alive.
“Isabella?” he croaked, his throat turning the word into a tangled rasp.
“Shhh. I’m right here,” she said, her fingers still resting on his cheeks. The struggle, as small as it had been, had drained what little energy he’d had, pain knifing through the left side of his body with merciless intensity. Kellan breathed in, taking a few seconds to register the hospital room, the tubes and machines to his left, and the portable cot Isabella had been lying on to his right.
“What…” His thickly wrapped shoulder ached and throbbed, his bandaged temple along with it. “Are you…” Damn it, why were his thoughts so disjointed?
“I’m fine,” Isabella whispered. “But you’ve got to stay still, okay? You had to have surgery to repair your shoulder. It went great,” she added, probably in response to his attempt to ask her what the hell. “You’re going to be good as new, but it’s going to take a little while for you to heal.”
His brain raced as he tried to piece everything back together. Nope. No go. “DuPree?”
She paused, but only for a fraction of a second. “Died from his injuries on the way to the hospital. He’s never going to hurt anyone again.”
Emotions filled Kellan’s chest, pushing out more questions. “How…how did you get past DuPree’s security in the first place? He had eyes on your building.”
She nodded. “I figured he had to be watching me somehow once he called with the threat, so I used the fire escape to get out of my building, then I called Sinclair from the burner phone I used on the night of the party.”
Shock lifted Kellan’s brows. “You saved that burner phone?”
“DuPree never knew I had it. I locked it in my bedroom safe after the party.”
Well that explained how it survived the break-in. “Hell of a rescue plan,” Kellan said, and Isabella released a soft laugh.
“It was teamwork. The profiler told me how to work DuPree in order to get him riled up and make a mistake. Intelligence had me mic’d up with a necklace pendant, and I fed them intel on our exact location through conversation with Franco. Capelli was the real mastermind, though. He’s the one who figured out how to deal with the Shadow.”
Kellan shifted against the pillow at his back. “I was wondering how you got in the door with no warning from the Intercom Guy.”
“Turns out, we didn’t have to out-hack him to out-smart him,” Isabella said. “The guy is a rogue, which means no loyalty. Capelli knew the odds of the Shadow sticking around once he saw all of us swarming the Metropolitan were extremely low, especially if we took him by surprise. We had to get creative with coms, but once he saw us in the lobby, he bailed to save his own skin. Just like Capelli predicted.”
“Did you catch him?” Kellan asked, but she frowned and shook her head.
“Unfortunately, no. But we got both Franco and Rampage as they tried to escape.” A smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “The big guy sang like a canary. He led us right to the flophouse where they’d been keeping the girls. None of them were hurt last night, and we’re working on getting them counseling and rehab services.”
Relief flooded through him, despite the news about the Shadow. “Good. I’m glad.”
“Me too.” Isabella dropped her chin, her eyes flashing with emotion as she stared at the thick layer of bandages sticking out of his hospital gown. “Kellan, I’m so sorry.”
He blinked at the unexpected words. “Sorry for what?”
“I shouldn’t have considered going to DuPree’s without backup,” she said, her voice shaky and soft. “I shouldn’t have even thought about it for a second. I was just so scared he’d hurt those girls that I didn’t stop to think there could be another way. The
right
way. You knew, and you tried to tell me, but…I didn’t listen. I’m so sorry.”
“But you did,” he said, his own emotions rising as he reached out to grab her fingers with his good hand. “You did listen. You went to Sinclair. You relied on your team,” he said, pulling her close. “I shouldn’t have left you in the first place.”
Isabella shook her head, adamant. “I told you to.”
“Okay, you are kind of feisty.” Kellan reached up to cup her face, loving the feel of her smile beneath his palm as she gave up a tiny laugh. “But I’ll learn to live with it. Come here.”
Maneuvering around all the tubes—damn, there were a bunch of them—they carefully shifted things around to fit her in at his good side.
“So tell me something about you,” she whispered.
Kellan’s emotions answered for him, and he didn’t hesitate. “I’m in love with you.”
“You…what?”
Isabella pulled back to stare at him, but he’d never been so sure of anything in his life.
“I’ve been on countless ops, and I’ve run into nearly as many burning buildings, and none of that ever scared me. But the thought of DuPree getting his hands on you”—Kellan paused for a steadying breath before opening up to let his feelings all the way out—“the thought of losing you? That terrified me. I love you, Isabella, and I don’t want to put that emotion in a box. I want to live it, every day. I don’t want be without you.”
“Well good,” she said, her body feeling warm and right and perfect as she held him even tighter. “Because I love you too. I’ve got your back, Kellan. And I’m never going to let you go.”
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K
imberly Kincaid writes
contemporary romance that splits the difference between sexy and sweet and hot and edgy romantic suspense. When she's not sitting cross-legged in an ancient desk chair known as "The Pleather Bomber", she can be found practicing obscene amounts of yoga, whipping up anything from enchiladas to éclairs in her kitchen, or curled up with her nose in a book. Kimberly is a
USA Today
best-selling author and a 2016 and 2015 RWA RITA® finalist and 2014 Bookseller’s Best nominee who lives (and writes!) by the mantra that food is love. Kimberly resides in Virginia with her wildly patient husband and their three daughters. Visit her any time at
www.kimberlykincaid.com
