Savage Hearts (Queens & Monsters #3)(94)

It’s funny, being in love. You can’t see it up close. It’s too massive.

It isn’t until you’re on a plane headed five thousand miles away that the big picture emerges, and you realize that the person you’re leaving behind is someone you can’t live without.

You realize that because, mile by mile, your heart feels like it’s getting crushed and your stomach is twisted into knots and all the cells in your body scream his name at the top of their little cellular lungs.

The pain of separation is overwhelming.

You feel as if you’re going to die.

You want to die, if it means you can never see him again.

And the anger. Oh, god! The anger that he’s the one who forced the separation in the first place. Him with his stupid principles and his overdeveloped penchant for self-sacrifice.

If he only knew that he’d be killing me with this separation, not saving me, maybe he’d have thought twice.

As soon as I see him again, I’m going to kick his big bearded ass.

A tentative knock on the door pulls me out of my head. I’m in one of the bedrooms in this new place of Sloane’s and Declan’s, wearing a groove in the wood floor with my pacing.

Wearing a groove in my brain going over and over everything Mal said to me before we left for town.

He knew I’d insist on coming with him. He also knew I’d insist on not staying in the truck at the market. He could predict exactly what I’d do at every turn, and now I’m pissed at myself for being so damn obvious.

I’m more pissed at him for not telling me what happened with Pakhan.

What was so horrible that he had to send me away?

“Come in.”

Sloane opens the door, comes inside, and closes the door behind her. She leans against it, staring at me as I continue to pace back and forth at the end of the bed.

“Hey, Smalls.”

“Hollywood.”

“You look…different.”

“It’s the contacts.”

“It’s everything.”

“Really? That’s where we’re starting? With my looks?”

She throws her hands in the air. “Where am I supposed to start?”

I stop pacing and look at her. Dark circles nest in the hollows under her eyes. Her hair is lank and disheveled. I’ve never seen her appear anything less than perfectly groomed before. Even when she was fifteen years old and sporting a black mohawk, it was artfully gelled.

That she’s obviously been worried sick about me melts some of the ice off the tip of the iceberg I feel for her.

In a softer voice, I say, “I’m okay. Mal took very good care of me. And thank you for sending Spider to rescue me, even though I didn’t need rescuing.”

She considers me in silence for a moment, then murmurs, “No, you don’t seem like you do.”

We gaze at each other across the room, until she says, “You’re missing a kidney?”

I nod. “And my spleen.”

She whispers, “Jesus.”

“Yeah, getting shot is a barrel of laughs.”

She rubs a hand over her face, sighing. “Spider’s a wreck about it.”

“He doesn’t need to be. Except for the stupid lightning bolt scar and the occasional nightmare, I’m fine.”

“Lightning bolt scar?”

I lift my shirt and pull down the waistband of my trousers. Sloane’s eyes widen. Her face pales. She puts a hand over her mouth and stares at my stomach like she’s trying not to puke.

Remembering how Mal described it, I mutter, “Not bad, my ass.”

“Oh, my god, Riley.”

Lowering my shirt, I wave a hand. “It looks worse than it was.” That’s a lie, but she doesn’t seem like she can handle the truth at the moment, so I’m going with fibbing.

Feeling like a caged animal, I start to pace again.

“So…this Malek person.”

“Don’t say his name like it tastes bad.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just that all I’ve heard the past three months is what a monster he is and what a—”

“Wait. Three months? I haven’t been gone that long.”

“Yes, you have.”

I think for a minute, trying to piece together a timetable. “What month is it?”

“June. It’s June eighteenth.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

“And Spider was in Moscow that whole time?”

She pauses for a beat. “Against Declan’s wishes, yes.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean Declan forbade him to go. Spider went anyway.”

If Spider went against his boss’s orders, that can mean only one thing: Mal was right about him having feelings for me.

This is a giant clusterfuck.

I stop pacing and sit on the edge of the bed, dropping my head into my hands. Sloane comes over and sits beside me. She rests a hand lightly on my back. We stay like that for a while, until something occurs to me.

“What did you mean by that comment about Stockholm Syndrome?”

She clears her throat. Then she laughs a small, embarrassed laugh. “Declan kidnapped me. That’s how we fell in love.”

Shocked, I sit up and stare at her. “No way.”