"That’s Victor Stone. He's the head bodyguard for the Covington family. Does their dirty work, too."

  "He looks like the type to love that shit. I'll go take care of him," Rook says. He says it so casually for someone about to take on a mountain in the shape of a man, but then, Rook is pretty damn big himself.

  He only gets half a step before Eliza steps in front of him, blocking him from the door.

  "Rook, I love you, I know you’re stressed and you want some release, but I won't have you murdering anyone in my hospital."

  "With a morgue in the basement, it'd be so damn convenient," he grumbles. "Shoot him in his head and then shove him down some chute. Simple. Easy.”

  "No one is killing anyone in my hospital. Not you, not this Victor Stone guy, and not you either, Jackson," Eliza says. "Besides, that chute thing isn’t how it works. We don't just shove the bodies in a tube and let the people in the basement sort it out. That's gross and disrespectful. There's an entire process, and they get covered in a sheet or in a body bag and wheeled down there on a gurney and... Oh my, I think I have an idea. We’ll make Jackson into a dead body."

  "I love when you come around to my way of thinking," Rook says. “Get me a pillow. I’ll finish him easy. Hold still, Jackson. Don’t fight it.”

  "Not in the way you're thinking. Stop being so bad." Eliza rolls her eyes at Rook and then turns to me. "Do you trust me? I can get you out of here, but it's going to involve some injections and some makeup."

  My eyes drift from Eliza to Victor, who is still in the lobby accosting a different nurse this time, and back again. We have a minute, maybe two, at most, before he finds my room and then Eliza's rule about no murdering in the hospital gets broken.

  "I don't have much of a choice, do I?"

  "You really don't. But you're my patient and my rescuee, and I believe you should have informed consent before I do anything to you. Though really, your choice is to either let me help you or that giant gorilla out there is going to get really violent, which wouldn't be fun for any of us."

  "OK, do what you need to do," I say. "I trust you."

  "Rook, dear, I'm going to need you to buy us some time. Can you go out there and get in that ugly giant's face and make sure he doesn't come in here for a couple of minutes? If you need to get a little nasty with him, that's okay, but try not to destroy anything, please."

  "On it," Rook answers and leaves. The door hasn't even shut behind him before I hear him bellow, "Hey, you. Yeah, you. You're the pervert I saw lurking around the playground."

  Eliza lets out a relieved sigh. "I'm glad he's out there. He needs some release for his energy, and I'd rather it be that Victor than you. Now, here's what we're going to do, Jackson: I'm going to give you an injection that'll partially sedate you. It'll slow your heart rate and drop your body temperature. It's risky, but everything on your chart says that you should be able to handle it. Now, if you don't want me to do this, let me know, but it will make things more difficult for both of us."

  "Do it."

  In seconds, she has a syringe in hand and she places it into the IV. Then something cooling flows into my blood. The world spins at half speed, turns a shade of muddy gray, and my need to breathe suddenly disappears.

  "Focus on breathing, but do it slowly. Now, I'm going to cover you with a sheet. I need you to lie still until I tell you it's safe. No matter what. Anyone who looks at you needs to believe you're dead. Fortunately, and I'm sorry to say this, I won't have to use any makeup on you, because you look a little rough and already believably dead. I don't mean that as an insult. Really, it's a good thing. So, please lie back and relax while I turn you into a corpse."

  She's the most cheerful mortician, even humming what sounds like a Spice Girls song as she wraps me up like some mummy. I have no idea how she ended up with a perpetually angry man like Rook.

  Thirty seconds later, I'm covered in a bed sheet and floating in some medically induced half-coma while Rook viciously berates Victor Stone in the hospital lobby, calling him all manner of aggressive, sex pest names.

  "OK, Jackson, it's time for the fun part: lying calmly in your bed, wrapped in your blanket, while I wheel you through a room where the man I love may or may not be beating someone senseless. Just stay calm and don't move, no matter what. I'll have you out of here in no time."

  As she wheels me out of the room, I can hear the commotion—Rook's voice getting louder and more aggressive, Victor's voice growing more irate. I can't believe this is happening. I'm being wheeled out of a hospital, pretending to be dead.

  Eliza is moving quickly and confidently, wheeling me down the hallway with ease. I hear us pass by several other patients and nurses, but no one stops us, except to say a passing hello to Eliza, who responds with a bubbling greeting every time. I go entirely unnoticed, as if I'm invisible, which is exactly what we need right now.

  As we approach the elevator, Eliza hits the button and we wait. The commotion grows louder behind us, but she doesn't seem to be worried. She's humming that same Spice Girls song again, like everything is perfectly normal. It's both comforting and unnerving at the same time. Finally, the elevator doors open, and Eliza wheels me inside. We're alone, just the two of us.

  The doors close, and we descend.

  "Okay, Jackson, we're almost there," Eliza says, still cheerful. "Just stay dead a little longer, and then you can be alive all you want. You're doing an excellent job, by the way. You've been very corpse-like this whole time."

  "Thank you," I mumble, my drugged tongue hardly forming the words and the sheet over my face distorting them even further.

  She tuts her tongue. "Corpses don't talk, remember?"

  I nod, a quick, short motion, even though I'm not sure she can see me under the sheet. My heart is pounding in my chest, and I can feel the sweat on my palms forming so thick that drops are squeezing through my fingers and soaking the bed beneath me.

  Then the elevator dings and the doors slide open with a mechanical swoosh.

  The bed rolls.

  Then stops, suddenly.

  Eliza's voice rises in confused alarm. "Who are you?"

  Another voice answers. Not Victor's, but just as fearsome, just as deadly. "Step aside, nurse, and let me check what's under the sheet."

  Eliza's voice firms. "I can't let you do that."

  There’s the unmistakable sound of a gun's hammer being cocked.

  "You can and you will, unless you've got a death wish."

  Chapter Four

  Jackson

  Eliza is resolute.

  "You'll never make it out of here before hospital security and the police get you. Are you that willing to risk your life just to peek under a sheet at a dead man?"

  It's impossible to sit still under this sheet as Eliza faces off with the man holding the gun. Her voice quivers, yet there's a current of steel beneath the nerves. I don't doubt for a second that she's ready to face down this man until her last breath, just to keep him from checking under the sheet.

  No wonder Rook loves her so much; she’s got a kind heart and an iron rod in her spine.

  The man chuckles darkly. "I don't need to worry about no cops. And your hospital's pissant security… fuck, I could take them all out just by whipping them with the gun I'm packing down here." His voice deepens, burns with a sick heat that fills my throat with vomit that I have to swallow down to keep from spewing all over myself. "Wanna check it out before I put a bullet in your head, nurse? You might be a bitch for standing in my way, but you're pretty enough that I'd fuck you before I kill you."

  Eliza snorts. "You just won't give up, will you?"

  "You show me yours, I'll show you mine," he says. “That’s the only way you get an easy out from this, nurse.”

  "Fine, just a quick peek, because I don't want anyone to get hurt. You included." She says sweetly. Then, with a slow tug, I feel the sheet slide off my face and the chill hospital air touches my face.

  I hold utterly still. Not breathing, not moving, willing even my heartbeat to hold off until this creep with a gun has had his fill of looking at me.

  "Shit, he looks all fucked up."

  "He is dead," Eliza says coolly. "Now, are you satisfied?"

  "Not yet. There's still the matter of you and me, sexy."

  "I am so flattered. Honestly. But there's just one problem with that," she responds. Her voice sounds firmer, certain. Confident, even. “And it is a serious problem.”

  "What's that, gorgeous?"

  "My man would definitely not like that."

  "Your man ain't here. It's just you, me, and that dead body."

  There's a sigh from Eliza. And a smile in her voice. "That's where you're wrong."

  "Wha—?"

  "Hey dick, no one wants to see your puny cock," Rook snaps.

  There's a solid thud. A punch that impacts with tooth-breaking force, and the man goes down in a heavy heap. It's followed by several more thuds as Rook delivers a lesson the other man will never forget.

  "Thanks, honey," Eliza says. "But you can stop beating that man to death. We've got to go."

  "Fine," Rook snorts. Then he tugs on my sheet. "Thanks for sticking up for my woman, Bullet Boy. Sitting on your useless ass while all this shit is going down… What kind of man are you?"

  "He's supposed to be dead, Rook. He did just fine," she says.

  “He will be dead if he pulls that shit again while you’re in trouble.”

  “Rook, be nice. And you probably shouldn't call him 'Bullet Boy.' It sounds like you're making fun of him. We're supposed to be helping him, not making him feel bad about himself."

  "It's intended to bug his lazy ass. If I hadn't been here, that piece of shit could've done more than accost you, and I won't have that, dear. I love you too much." There's a moment of silence, and even with the sheet over my face, I can feel unspoken conversation pass between them. That, and more than a few wet kisses. "But, fine. I won't call him 'Bullet Boy.' How about just 'Bullet?' It can serve as a reminder of what I'll do to him if he ever lies on his lazy ass again when someone's threatening you."

  "Bullet? Yes, that's better. I know how you motorcycle guys love your road names. Bullet it is," Eliza says. She tugs on the sheet and gently taps my cheek. "Is that OK with you, Bullet?"

  I'm drugged up, gutshot, nearly drowned, full of stitches, hurting like hell, and just had one of Covington's men come within seconds of finding out I'm still alive and shooting me while I’m wrapped in a sheet—all I can do is nod.

  Guess I'm Bullet, now.

  Which is better than Bullet Boy.

  And a hell of a lot better than dead.

  "Now, listen you two, because this next part is critical: Rook, you need to keep Jackson under his sheet until you’re outside, and then you need to take him somewhere safe and remote and then text me the location. I have to go back to work and figure out how to fudge his paperwork, so no one suspects anything. I'll meet up with you both as soon as the shift is over and I'll bring supplies with me to make sure we can keep Jackson alive in case anything goes wrong. Everything clear, Rook?"

  "Clear, my love."

  "And you're going to be nice to Jackson?"

  "Yes, dear."

  "You promise? I’m not playing, Rook. I want you to treat him with respect.”

  There's a sound of shuffling and Rook's answer comes out military-sharp, "Yes, ma'am."

  "That's better. The service exit is just down the hall and to the right. No one ever comes down here, except for deliveries, and we don't have any scheduled for today. You boys play nice, OK?"

  I mumble something approximating a ‘thank you.’

  "Yes, dear," Rook says. The bed resumes motion, though the movement is far less gentle, and several times the bed roughly bumps into the wall. Each heavy bump is followed by Rook chuckling quietly. We make it a short distance down the hallway before I hear Rook whisper in a low voice, "You're in deep shit, Bullet Boy. You're lucky the woman I love likes you, because that's the only thing keeping you alive right now."

  "She's nice," I croak from beneath the sheet.

  "That's a fucking understatement. She's a fucking angel, that's what she is. The fucking gorgeous personification of grace and kindness. So you be respectful, because the second her grace for you expires is the second your bullet-riddled ass is done for. You got that, Bullet Boy?"

  "It's Jackson. Or Bullet."

  "Oh? What are you going to do about it?"

  "Tell Eliza."

  "Fuck you, Bullet."

  A door opens, closes, and I feel fresh air tickle my skin through the sheet.

  Seconds later, it's pulled from me and I breathe in the clean, crisp air. Gratitude at being alive floods through me, along with a mountain's worth of frustration and anger—Madison's still trapped with that abusive monster, Alexander Covington.

  How am I going to get her free from him?

  And when she finally sees my face again, after all these years, after the heartbreak I put her through, how will she react? Will she understand why I did what I had to do? Or will she hate me?

  "Wake up, Bullet," Rook says just seconds before the gurney collides with a dark four-door sedan. I grit my teeth as the collision sends waves of pain shooting from me. The man really is such an ass. Carefully, he opens one of the back doors and then slips his arms around me and lifts me, barely grunting as he hefts me. The man is like a titan, a titan who definitely wants to kill me the second his girlfriend decides I'm not worth it. Should I buy Eliza flowers? Send her chocolates, maybe with a note that says, 'Please don't let your monster boyfriend kill me?' "Don't get any ideas by the way I'm holding you. Don't even make eye contact."

  Not-so-gingerly, Rook sets me into the back seat of the car and I sprawl out to get comfortable.

  "If you bleed on anything, you're paying for the detailing," he says.

  Without another word, he starts the car, and we pull out of the parking lot and onto the main road leading away from Costa Oscura General Hospital. I watch the large, multi-winged building slowly fade away into the distance.

  I'm alive, but what now?

  How am I going to get Madison away from Alexander?

  My mind circles that singular thought in much the same way it's circled Madison all these years, ever since I broke her heart and left her with a lifetime's worth of questions. Questions that I can’t give her the answer to without invoking the genuine risk that she—and other people I care about, like my father—wind up like I am now. Or worse.

  "You alive back there?" Rook says, scoping me through the rear view mirror.

  I grunt, shift in my seat. "I am."

  "This girl you took a bullet for, she's living in your head and has been for a long time, hasn't she?"

  "Yeah."

  Time and the road stretches on as Rook drives in thoughtful silence.

  "I understand where you're at, Bullet. It just so happens that the woman living in my head, occupying my dreams and my fantasies, is the same one that gets into my bed every night. If it can happen for an ex-Army asshole like me, it can happen for you. Eliza and I will make sure we get you there," Rook says. His eyes drift to the road for a moment, then back to the mirror. To me. "This girl, does she feel the same way about you? Because our help—Eliza and mine—ends if this is some stalker thing."

  My eyes go to the window, to the coastal countryside speeding by.

  How does Madison feel about me? When she looks at me, will her eyes be like they used to be—full of so much love that I can hardly believe it—or will they be filled with hate?

  "I don't know. It's been a while," I say, pain in my heart echoing the pain from the bullet wound in my gut. "A lot has happened since then. If she doesn't love me, I won't force anything, if that's what you're wondering. I just want to get her away from that monster. Get her safe. Free."

  More silence. More thoughtful staring straight ahead from Rook. I get the unshakable feeling that he’s digging into emotional depths that he doesn’t share with anyone outside of Eliza.

  "You're not so bad, Bullet Boy," he says, his lips quirked almost imperceptibly upward.

  "Thank you. You're not too much of an asshole yourself, Rook."

  "Don't go pushing my generosity, Bullet Boy." He grunts, presses the accelerator, and the countryside becomes a blur. "So, this Covington guy… he's got some muscle behind him. Money, too, from what I gather. You got an idea about how we can get your girl away from him?"

  "Her name's Madison. She’s more than just ‘my girl.’ She’s important.”

  "What's your plan to get Madison away from the rich asshole? Hell, Bullet, do you even have a plan?”

  For a few seconds, I'm quiet, thinking. My first plan—which really wasn't much of a plan, more just showing up outside Covington's house, raging and ready for a fight, and getting ambushed by his security before I could even set foot on his front yard—is what put me here in the first place.

  But then it hits me.

  A smile creeps over my face.

  "Yes, I've got a plan."

  Chapter Five

  Madison

  "Elena, I want you to turn off the car, take the keys out of the ignition, and hold them up so he can see them," I say. My voice is steady; this isn't the first time I've been through this routine. "Do it carefully and don't worry, he won't hurt you."

  I keep emphasis off that last word, though it takes effort; there are things I want to tell my best friends, but can't, won't, because of the danger it could put them in. They know me better than anyone, but they don’t know the dark depths of my impending marriage.

  "How the hell can you sound okay with this, Maddy?" Elena says, voice high-pitched, fluttering between frightened and furious. "He is pointing a gun right at me."

  "Because I know Alexander. This is all just some stupid show. Just turn off the car and hold up your keys, and I'll take care of the rest, okay?"

  Behind me, there's an audible sigh from Ashley as Elena complies and holds up the keys. I may sigh, too, but blood is pounding too hard in my ears for me to be sure. Elena's always been my fiercest defender and there's a part of me that wouldn't have been surprised if she shifted her car into gear and ran over Alexander’s bodyguard.