In For the Kill (McClouds & Friends #11)(116)

“Sure, it’s important, but it’s not your job to do it! And that’s only assuming that what Sasha said was true!”

“Pavel appeared to believe it. Why shouldn’t we?”

He shook his head and hissed at the ensuing whanga-whanga inside his skull. “I can’t even begin to count the ways that guy was messed up,” he said. “Maybe he was dreaming up things he wished he’d done. He didn’t have the nerve to do anything like that alone.”

“He wasn’t alone. And my mother had nerve for ten,” she said.

“True, but really? Sasha saves the world while putting the shaft to his mean, evil dad? Talk about a wish-fulfillment fantasy. I’ll believe it when I see the bomb materials with my own eyes.”

“It didn’t look like a fantasy to me when he was bleeding out on the ground,” she said frigidly.

“I am not diminishing his sacrifice,” Sam said through his teeth. “And I’m not saying bomb materials weren’t stolen. I’m just questioning if he could actually have been the one who stole them. Your mom isn’t around to corroborate. And they sure as hell weren’t where he left them.”

“He throws himself in front of a hail of bullets for you, and yet, you continue to underestimate him,” she said.

Oh, f*ck, ouch. Sveti had the art of the merciless zinger nailed.

“This is about more than me staying safe,” Sveti went on. “Sasha didn’t lay down his life after asking me to hide under the bed until it’s safe to come out. Mama gave up everything for this!”

“And she got a jack shit return on her investment! I’m sorry to say this, but I don’t give a rat’s ass about bombs and labs and bodies. All I care about is getting you someplace safe. Go. The f*ck. Home.”

Her mouth trembled. “So,” she whispered. “Here we are again.”

“Yeah, here we are. But my job now is not to pander to your suicidal whims. It isn’t even to f*ck you senseless, much as I enjoy it. My job is just to keep you in one piece. That’s all. That’s it.”

Her face crumpled for an instant, before she got herself back under control and smoothed it out. “That’s the problem,” she said. “I’m not in one piece. I’m in a million pieces, Sam. I have been for years.”

His stitches pulled, stabbing lines of fire jabbing in his guts, his rib, his thigh. “I’m sorry about that,” he said awkwardly. “But you can put the pieces back together in the safety of Cray’s Cove.”

She threw up her hands. “I won’t be in danger at Villa Rosalba! Michael’s security team will be all over the place!”

“Great. That makes me turn cartwheels for joy.”

“Sam, haven’t you ever had a thing burn in your mind? A thing that just won’t let you go? Remember Elaine, in college? That’s what this is for me! If you care about who I am inside, you’ll understand!”

He grabbed her hand and held up three fingers of his other hand.

“Three things,” he said. “One. Your family trusted me to keep you safe.”

“My family does not dictate—”

“Two.” He held up his second finger. “This one’s more important. You’re my woman now, like it or not. Being in a gun battle with you clinches it. It’s my evolutionary duty, mandated by the incontrovertible laws of nature, not to let you eat a bullet, if I can help it.”

“Sam—”

“The third thing,” he proceeded relentlessly. “Your crazy friend Sasha laid some very heavy karma on me. If you get hurt, he will haunt my ass into the next life and beyond. And I’m in no condition to pay my debt to him right now. Can you not give me that much, while I’m lying here with a f*cking IV drip in my arm? Is that so much to ask?”

She wiped at her eyes. “I will be completely safe,” she insisted. “Please, be reasonable, Sam. I’ll always be grateful. You saved my life.”

His bark of laughter hurt his chest. “Yeah, well. You are my life.”

She gazed at him, eyes soft, openmouthed. “Oh, Sam . . .”

“Yeah, I know,” he snarled. “Don’t start. I know. You don’t have

it in you, you’re too damaged to love me, blah blah, f*ck you very much, let’s have more wild sex now. I’m in love with you, Sveti. I’m out of my head. That’s my only excuse for some of the shit I’ve pulled.”

“You? You’ve done nothing but protect me!”

He grunted in disgust. “Yeah? The ice-cream date, at Castellana Padulli? Going to the death-trap address on that note? Seriously? Coming to Italy at all was dumber than shit. I should have just trapped you in my bed in Portland, like a good sex maniac. I can’t believe I shoved my head that far up my ass, and left it there for so long.”

“My choice. Not your fault. I’m sorry I put you in danger.”

“I can’t take it anymore,” he said. “I’m officially done. If you care about me, collaborate with me. Have some f*cking mercy on me.”

“I do care about you, but I care about this, too! Renato is leaving tomorrow morning, and Villa Rosalba will be closed up, indefinitely. They both came back when they heard what happened, and I thought even you would agree that it’s safer for me there than—”