“She needs to be at a hospital, boss,” one said to him. “We’re trying to keep her stable, and Nico is going to send the EMTs in as soon as they arrive…”

  Delilah’s lashes fluttered. Nearly closed.

  “No!” The cry tore from him. “Delilah, I want you to stay with me. I want you to focus on me.”

  “Demanding.” A whisper from her. “So demanding.”

  Yes, he was. He was also scared to death. “Please, don’t leave me.” The blood on her beautiful face—the sight gutted him. She’d needed him. He hadn’t been there for her. All along, he’d known the attacker wanted to hurt him by taking away what he loved—

  And he loved nothing—no one—as much as he loved her.

  “Of…course…I’ll st-stay. Got to h-have those k-kids…”

  It was good that he was on his knees. Otherwise, he would have fallen. “Three of them,” he reminded her. “Layla Grace. Then two more.”

  Her eyes had closed completely. “Just…r-resting…”

  “Baby, please don’t go.” He gripped her hand even tighter. “I love you, Delilah. Please, please don’t go.”

  She didn’t respond.

  “Delilah!” Her name was an angry snarl. “Wherever you go, I follow. You understand that, don’t you? I will always follow. Don’t do this, don’t—”

  “Told you…” Barely a breath. “R-resting…I…didn’t st-stab that bitch…three times…”

  “Four,” one of the guards supplied. “I think it was at least four.”

  “Five,” the other returned. “Had to be.”

  “Just to…d-die now,” Delilah finished.

  “The ambulance is here!” Nico bellowed. “EMTs are coming through!”

  Archer looked back. Sure enough, the EMTs had just entered the condo. “Here first!” he thundered. “Take care of Delilah.” Because he would be damned if they stopped to tend to Tiffany before her. Delilah was the priority.

  She was his world.

  He forced himself to let her go so that the EMTs could work on her. And when they rushed her out of the condo, he was right behind them.

  “Arch…er?” Tiffany’s lost voice. “Archer?”

  He never glanced back.

  He rode down in the elevator with Delilah. He jumped into the ambulance with Delilah. As the sirens screamed, he held her hand once again.

  ***

  “Do…I look as bad as I…feel?” Delilah asked the fourth time that she woke up.

  Archer had carefully counted each and every time. He’d been at her bedside, and he did not plan to move in the foreseeable future. Each time she’d woken, she’d managed to talk, just a bit. Mostly rambles. One mumbled, “I love you” that he’d greedily taken into his heart. This was the first time that she’d asked about how she looked.

  Her head turned on the pillow. Her gaze—awake, aware—met his. “Because I feel…” She licked pale lips. “I feel like some psycho slammed a whiskey decanter into my h-head…and then tried to choke me on her kitchen floor.”

  “Some crazy psycho did all that.” He brushed back a lock of her hair as he leaned over the hospital bed. “But you fought her off. You saved yourself.”

  “She…wanted to p-put me in a closet.” Her brow furrowed. “I think.”

  What?

  The furrow smoothed away. “You look tired.”

  Probably because he hadn’t slept in…hell, did it matter? “You look beautiful.”

  A weak shake of her head. “I can’t p-possibly.”

  He nodded. “You do. You look like the most gorgeous woman in the world.”

  The hospital door opened with a swish behind him. “Delilah!” Memphis’s voice boomed. “You’re awake!” He rushed forward with flowers gripped in his hands. “I know you hate these, but when someone is in a hospital, my mama always said it was good manners to bring—” His words ended in a sharp whistle. “Oh, you look like shit. Your face is swollen, you have giant bruises all over your neck, and I hate to tell you, but I think the docs cut some of your hair when they were putting those stitches in your head. You are not going to approve of that cut.”

  Archer glared at him. “You are an asshole.”

  “What? Have you not told her how she looks?”

  “She looks,” he growled, “gorgeous. And you will tell her that.”

  Memphis frowned. “You know I don’t like lying to friends.”

  “She looks gorgeous!” Archer snapped.

  “You only think that because you’re in love with her.” Memphis plunked down the flowers. Tilted his head and studied Delilah. “You know what you look like?”

  “What?”

  “A survivor. And that’s the most beautiful thing in the world.” He bent to brush a kiss over her cheek. “You fucking scared us all,” he whispered.

  But Archer caught the whisper. He’d known Memphis was scared. They’d spent plenty of time together hovered over Delilah’s hospital bed, and he had a sinking suspicion that one of Memphis’s earlier predictions might well be on its way to coming true.

  I do think this asshole will wind up being one of my best friends.

  Memphis cleared his throat as he pulled back. “There was a little brain swelling. Gave us a scare. But I told the docs you were hardheaded, so no one was surprised when you bounced back so quickly.” He pointed to her throat. “You sound like a frog for now, but they told us there was no permanent damage. And you had the best docs with you. Archer insisted. Hey, if you are gonna live on a pile of cash, then you should certainly throw it around in an emergency, you know? And your boyfriend was making it rain cash. Rain, I say. He was flying in specialists left and right.”

  He would have brought in anyone he could to help her. Paid any price.

  “You’re going to be okay,” Memphis assured her. “So just try and be good and get released and just don’t worry about anything else, got it? Archer and I have everything covered.”

  By everything…Archer knew he was talking about Tiffany. She’d survived, too. Been stitched up. Treated. She’d almost lost an eye, but the docs had managed—so far—to save it, though they’d predicted she would probably never see clearly with it again. She was actually still in the damn hospital, under guard. In the same hospital with Delilah, and that drove him crazy. He wanted her locked away.

  She would be. Soon. Archer would make certain of it. Whatever he had to do, Tiffany would never have another chance to come after Delilah.

  “Do me a favor?” Delilah murmured.

  Archer and Memphis both replied, “Anything.”

  She gave them a little smile. “I…I swear, there’s a secret passage…”

  Her broken voice twisted his heart.

  “In one of her closets. Search for me? I-I think we need to see what she’s hidden.”

  “Sure thing, Scooby Doo,” Memphis assured her. “I’ll get on it right now.” He saluted Archer. “And you’ll continue to stick as close to her as humanly possible?”

  “You know I will.” As if he’d leave her. He wasn’t going to be able to take a full breath until the doctors had released her and given her a clean bill of health.

  “Thought so.” Memphis sauntered to the door. But he stopped before exiting. “Do not scare me like that again,” he ordered as he tossed a glare back at Delilah. “Friends don’t freak out friends because that shit is not cool. Remember that, would you? It’s an important rule to live by.”

  Then he was gone.

  Archer was left alone with his Delilah. He looked down at her, and Archer found her gaze on his. “You have the most beautiful eyes,” he told her. “I thought that, the first time I saw you.”

  She blinked.

  “I also thought…I have to meet her. I need to know her. Then you walked toward me. Told me you were going to take my necklace, and then I thought…” He stopped.

  “Don’t leave me in suspense.”

  “I thought…be careful. That’s the kind of woman who might just wreck your world.” He forced a smile. “And you did.”

  “Is that good? Or…bad?”

  How could she even wonder? “Good. You are everything good in my life. And I swear, things are going to be different. Better. The police are going to lock away Tiffany. She isn’t going to ever threaten you again. You are going to be safe. I will give you anything and everything you want—”

  “I just want you.” Soft. “I will always want you.”

  His body shuddered. “You have me.” He leaned forward and had to brush a tender kiss over her lips. “Always.”

  She was smiling when he pulled back. “Good.”

  You are better than good.

  “Now tell me again that I look gorgeous…”

  “You are absolutely stunning.”

  Her hand fluttered toward her cut hair. He caught her fingers before she could get near the stitches. “Baby, you make any style work. Short hair is extra sexy on you.”

  “Archer…”

  “Marry me.”

  Her eyes widened. “What?”

  Okay. Wrong place. “I’ll do that again—the right way—very soon. That was not supposed to slip out yet.”

  “You just asked me to…marry you.”

  He’d kind of told her to marry him which was one of the reasons why it had been wrong. He needed to tenderly ask and not possessively demand. He needed to be on one knee. He needed to give her a diamond big enough to weigh down her hand. “I will do it again.”

  “You’d better. Because if you don’t, I’ll be asking you.” A pause. “Or maybe I’ll just be telling you.”

  “Tell me,” he dared.

  “Archer, marry me.”

  His heart shoved into his chest. “Done.”

  “That is what I…like to hear.” Still rasping, but her voice was a little clearer. “I do love a man of action.”

  “And I just fucking love you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Tell me again why we are meeting with a killer on the day of your wedding.” Oz tugged at his collar. “Because this feels like a really shitty plan to me.”

  “We’re meeting with her because the cops asked us for this little meet and greet.” Because the cops thought that Tiffany would confess all to Archer. Not that they needed the confession to convict her, but it would be the final nail in her coffin.

  Delilah had been right. There had been a secret room at Tiffany’s condo. Memphis had found it, and in that room, he’d discovered a pile of evidence. Evidence like clothing that still reeked of gasoline because Tiffany had been the one to burn the bed in Archer’s guest room. She’d bulked up, wearing thick padding under her hoodie to appear bigger, and she’d snuck inside. The padding had been found in her hidden room, too.

  As had Delilah’s laptop. Archer’s old date book. He still wasn’t sure how that thing had wound up in his desk. The last he’d seen of it, he’d tossed it into one of the garbage bins at Radcliffe Industries.

  Tiffany had also stolen items that belonged to her dead sister. Clothing. Jewelry. All things that had been found in her hidden room.

  And she wanted to put Delilah in that room. To lock her away. Delilah had remembered Tiffany telling her that she’d seal her inside that room.

  Oz exhaled as he sat down at the narrow table. Archer sat, too. The room was cold, and a one-way mirror ran the length of the wall on the right. Two other chairs—currently empty—waited on the other side of the table. The chairs would be for Tiffany and her lawyer.

  As if on cue, the door opened. Tiffany came in, dressed in a garish orange jail uniform. Her lawyer shuffled along behind her.

  A police detective—Detective Waylan Smith—slipped into the room. He inclined his head toward Archer. “Thank you for coming in today.”

  “Well, of course, he came in.” Tiffany smiled at him. “He wanted to see me.” She sat across from him and ignored her lawyer. “I knew you couldn’t stay away.”

  He could, quite easily.

  “This isn’t a good idea,” Tiffany’s lawyer groused. “I warned you—”

  “Shut up. I’m talking to Archer.” She never took her gaze off him. Her right eye still had a slightly bloody look. “Have you realized it yet?”

  Rage burned through him. She tried to kill Delilah. “Realized what?”

  “That no one will ever love you like I do.”

  “That’s a good thing, if you ask me,” Oz muttered. He shuddered.

  Tiffany’s gaze cut to him. “Where is my thanks, Oz?”

  “Excuse me?” Oz shook his head. “Lady, no one will thank—”

  “You weren’t going to get him off in court. You would have failed, and Archer would have gone to jail. I had to step in and save him. I was the one who had to threaten all the right people so that Archer wouldn’t be charged with Vanessa’s murder.”

  “You mean that you blackmailed people,” Archer corrected.

  “Yes. I did what was necessary.” She straightened in her seat.

  Her lawyer winced. “You need to—”

  “Shut. Up,” Tiffany ordered him. “You’re some crappy public defender that I didn’t even want. I don’t need you. Archer loves me, and he’s going to take care of me.”

  “No,” Archer told her clearly. “I don’t. After today, I hope I never see you again.”

  A frown pulled down her lips. “Why would you say that? You can’t live without me!”

  Want to bet?

  “I was always looking out for you. Vannie was in the way, so I got rid of her.”

  Oz sighed. “I’m thinking you got rid of her because you were jealous that she was with Archer, and in some fit of rage, you bashed her head in with a rock.”

  A shrug of one shoulder. “I did hit her.”

  How could she act so cool? “Just like you shoved Delilah down the stairs at the opera?”

  “Not another word!” Her lawyer was sweating.

  “I will say what I want. And right now—you’re fired.” A sniff. Then she winked at Archer with her non-bloody eye. “I gave her a push. She’d infuriated me. You were making out with her. Right in front of me. What did you expect me to do?”

  Detective Smith never took his eyes off Tiffany.

  Everyone was watching her.

  She seemed to enjoy all the attention.

  We need to move this scene along. He didn’t want to be in that room longer than was absolutely necessary. “The date book,” Archer said. His fingers tapped on the table. “How did it get in my desk?”

  She smiled. Lifted her hand. Curled her index finger toward him as if inviting him closer.

  He didn’t move so much as an inch toward her.

  Her smile faded. “I got it from the garbage. Sometimes, I’d stop by your building after my workouts. I slipped your assistant some money when I learned Delilah was digging into Vanessa’s disappearance, and I got him to put it in your desk.”

  Hell.

  “Delilah seemed like the nosey type. I figured she’d be searching your desk sooner or later. I thought she might find the notation about Vermont interesting.” She gave what almost looked like a happy bounce in the chair. “I knew it was time for Vannie to make her appearance again. It was like I was giving Delilah breadcrumbs to follow.”

  “And Harrison?”

  Laughter. “He’s such an idiot. A pale imitation of the original. You’re the original.” She reached out to touch Archer’s hand.

  He pulled it away before she could. He would have to deal with his brother soon. Harrison had been calling him almost daily, desperately trying to apologize. Delilah thought there was hope for their relationship. Archer doubted that, but…hell, at least Harrison hadn’t been trying to kill him.

  Tiffany sighed. “He didn’t know about Vannie. Didn’t know about me. He hated you, but don’t worry, I would have eventually got around to killing him because of that.”

  She said everything so casually. So easily. A monster was in front of him, and she preened in her jail-house orange.

  Tiffany’s voice dropped to a dramatic stage whisper as she revealed, “Do you know that eleven different news agencies have contacted me, wanting to hear my story? Eleven. I know there will be more, too. I’m big news.”

  “You tried to kill Delilah.”

  “She stabbed me. I’ve got scars on my chest.” Anger cracked in her voice. “And did you see what she did to my eye?”

  “Hard to miss it,” Oz drawled.

  Her cheeks reddened.

  “Delilah defended herself,” Archer said. “Because you slammed a decanter into her head—”

  “I wanted to bash her freaking brains in!” More cracks. More rage. “She was in my way. I didn’t get rid of Vannie just so some low-rent whore could slide into your life.”

  Archer rose to his feet. “You will never see Delilah again.”

  “I—”

  “You will never see me again. Hell, I don’t think you will see the outside world again.” He’d make sure of it. “Goodbye, Tiffany.” They’d gotten more than enough. He was done. He was not going to sit there while she talked shit about Delilah. Oh, the fuck, no.

  “But—but you came to see me, you came—”

  “He came to hear your confession,” Oz told her flatly. “That’s what we were all here for. Well, except for your lawyer. Ex-lawyer, that is. He was trying to stop you. Maybe you should have listened to him. But, hey, when a person wants to dig her own grave, sometimes, you just have to let her do the dirty work. And we all know how good you are at grave digging.”

  Her glare became even hotter.

  “I’d like to say it’s been fun,” Oz continued, “but that would be a lie. Trying to avoid those as much as I can these days. Got this new buddy named Memphis who is always telling me honesty should be the best policy.”

  Archer yanked open the door.

  “Archer!” Tiffany cried. “Don’t leave me! We belong together! I did all of this…for you.”

  He looked over at her. “No, Tiffany. We don’t belong together. And you did none of this for me. You did it all for yourself.”

  Her expression contorted into rage as she lunged up from her seat. “I will make you so sorry! I will make you wish that—”

  “He’d never met you?” Oz supplied. “Trust me, I am sure he already does wish that.”