Under Pressure (Body Armor #1)(89)

Again, Enoch tried to shake his head.

Sahara whispered, “He thinks he failed.”

“No,” Leese insisted. “You stalled them and that gave us the edge we needed. Cat was there, by the door, and heard them coming in, so she was able to get me from the shower. If they’d come even a minute sooner, she’d have been washing dishes and wouldn’t have known what was happening until it was too late. They might have killed me in the shower, or else I would have come out with no idea where they’d taken her.”

Enoch slowly closed his least injured eye, then gave a small, accepting nod of gratitude.

Leese put a hand on his shoulder. “We’re alive because you’re a badass, Enoch. You have my respect for life.” Then, grinning, Leese said, “And I hope you don’t mind, but a few of my friends, MMA fighters, want to thank you too. Are you up for that? I promise they won’t stay long.”

Enoch’s eye managed to widen, and he gave a single, uncertain nod.

One by one they filed in. Leese noticed that Denver had tucked Cat under one massive arm, while Justice flanked her on the other side.

They were all big men, but those two were behemoths. Between them, Cat looked even more petite.

She also looked a little shell-shocked.

“I like her,” Armie told him. “She’s funny as hell.”

Yeah, Cat did have a sharp wit, usually carved from honesty. He could only imagine what she might have said.

Enoch went stock-still, very watchful, as the guys took turns assessing his injuries. Surrounding his bed, their voices low with concern, firm with appreciation, they shared fight stories and compared injuries.

“I thought I had the biggest of all goose eggs when I got kicked in the forehead,” Stack said, “but damn, Enoch, you have me beat with that beauty.”

“If it swells another inch,” Denver added, “he could pass for a beat-up unicorn.”

“Remember in Rocky, when his eye was like that?” Miles asked.

“Cut me, Mick,” Cannon said in his best Stallone voice. “Enoch’s is better than Rocky’s though.”

“The ladies are going to be so sympathetic,” Armie added. “I almost envy you, dude. I bet you get smothered in the best kind of TLC.”

They continued with the congenial joking until Enoch relaxed, and damn, he even managed a half-baked, crooked smile every so often. When he reached for the paper, Sahara quickly brought it to him.

Feel like a star, he wrote. Thanks.

They all laughed.

Minutes later he was given his pain meds and quietly faded to sleep.

With everyone crowded into the private hospital room, Sahara preened, flirted and did impromptu interviews in case she could sway any of them away from fighting.

To Leese’s surprise, Miles had questions for her. He didn’t commit to anything, but he definitely showed keen interest.

Apparently the danger surrounding Cat was a lure, drawing him in. Hell, each one of the fighters wanted to get involved.

They were protective that way.

“I’m thinking we should stick around,” Cannon told him, his voice low in deference to Enoch. “Just in case.”

No surprise there. Cannon and the others ran a neighborhood watch back in Warfield, Ohio. “Somehow,” Leese said, “I think your wife would protest that.”

“Yvette would understand.”

Probably. She was every bit as caring as Cannon. Leese drew him aside to talk privately. “I appreciate it, but I’m thinking the best way to go is with a low profile.”

Cannon studied him, then shook his head. “You don’t want us drawn into the danger.”

“There is that.” The last thing Leese wanted to do was give Platt or Tesh more targets. “Sahara has some reach. I think—” pray “—it’s under control.”

Accepting that, Cannon said, “Keep me posted, then. And if you change your mind, know that we’re around.”

“Thanks.”

Denver joined them, gave Leese a close scrutiny and smiled. “You’re in love with her.”

Was it really so obvious? Leese looked across the room to where Cat listened while Armie spoke to her, likely saying something outrageous since Armie didn’t know any other way.

She smiled, leaned close to reply and Armie pretended to stagger with weak legs. Miles grinned beside him and Stack smirked, holding Armie upright.

Whatever she’d just said had amused his friends, meaning as usual, Cat held her own.

She’d been through hell, was living in it now and still she charmed everyone around her. She kept her chin up, optimism firmly in place.

She wanted to sacrifice herself to keep him and Sahara safe.

“Yeah. I love her.” How could he do anything else?





CHAPTER SIXTEEN

BY THE TIME they reached Sahara’s house, it was nearing bedtime. They hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Cat felt her stomach rumbling, but didn’t want to grumble.

It was Leese who’d been wounded, and he didn’t complain. He just stayed grim, his thoughts contained.

His anger still palpable.

She wanted to say something to him, but what?

He had to be just as tired and hungry as her, and though she’d never been shot, she assumed a bullet wound—even a searing graze—had to be sore.