Gabriel

"Could this week get any worse?" I stare at the coffee in my mug. "For fuck's sake. First the shooting, then Riley."

Alessandro, who has come up from Miami, nods. He arrived only a few minutes ago, and we're in the casual chat part of our meeting. It's ten in the morning, and we're sitting in the outdoor lounge chair on my terrace, catching up on everything but the issue at hand. "When's she getting out of the hospital?"

"Later this afternoon, thankfully. She's been in there three days and she's climbing the walls." She claims she's going to work when she's at my house, but we'll see about that. I want her relaxing and resting as much as possible."

Here's what I don't tell him: Riley's illness has shaken me to my core. Having her practically collapse in my arms, crying from pain, seeing her in the hospital bed looking small and powerless — it's all sent my alpha male brain into overdrive.

"I know when Gia had pneumonia and went to the hospital, it was really hard." The pain in Alessandro's eyes is evident, an uncharacteristic window into his soul. We're not men that typically reveal our emotions to one another. But I know his love for his wife is boundless.

As it should be.

"Hospitals are places to stay out of." He shakes his head.

"Amen to that." I keep thinking about what it's going to take to make sure Riley's healthy. A personal trainer, a nutritionist, regular doctor's checkups. This situation with her kidney has spooked me.

I don't want to lose her.

"Anyway." Alessandro blows out a breath. "We've narrowed down the Russians' safe house. It's actually in Savannah. We're going in today. I made sure my guy up there is aware that we need to eradicate everyone in that house."

I take a sip of my drink, the liquid bitter as it slides down my throat. "We're sure it's a safe house, and not a family home? I don't want innocent lives lost. There's been enough of that already."

One of the victims in the restaurant shooting was a busboy. And as sociopathic as I can be when it comes to gangsters' lives, I am gutted when someone unrelated is caught in our deadly game.

Alessandro nods. "A hundred percent sure. We've been surveilling it with the help of some local authorities."

"The cops in Savannah?" I raise an eyebrow.

"One better than that. An FBI agent."

I rub the back of my neck, wondering if this is getting too complicated. "Interesting."

"Don't worry. He's on our payroll. His great uncle's a made man."

Not unheard of. There's a fine line between criminals and cops.

"Fine. When's it going to happen?"

Alessandro checks his watch. "In about six hours."

I do some mental calculations. In two hours, I'll pick Riley up from the hospital. She's having her final exam with the doctor now. Probably she could've been released yesterday, and would have had she been in the regular ward, but I privately insisted she stay another day, just to make sure everything was okay.

"I'll be here. You? You know you're welcome to stay."

Alessandro shakes his head. "I have a flight to New York later today. Stopping here to talk with you was just a quick layover. Figured it would be better than a phone call."

My phone buzzes.

"In speaking of phones," he points to my cell on the table.

We smirk at each other.

"Excuse me, I need to take this."

Alessandro nods and reaches for his phone. "I need to call Gia, anyway."

I walk over to the pool and answer the phone. "Cath. Hey."

"I just heard about Riley. What's going on? Is she okay? I called the paper and asked for her and someone told me she was in the hospital."

I blow out a breath. "Yes, she had a bad infection, but she's okay now. She'll be getting out later today and coming to my house while she recovers further."

"Oh goodness. That probably means neither of you will be at the gallery opening. No worries, of course, her health is a priority."

"Oh, Christ, I forgot all about that. This week has been a shit show." I don't mention the restaurant shooting. Cath knows better than to ask casual questions about things like that.

"Given what's in the papers, I can imagine. Listen, I'd love to bring Riley some flowers and a a little get well gift. Do you think she'd mind if I come over later?"

There's a beep on my phone, and I notice it's my lawyer. "I gotta run, because I have another call, but I'm sure she'd appreciate that. Talk to you soon."

I click off, but don't give our conversation another thought. There's just too much fuckery to deal with in this city, and in Savannah.

# # #

Riley

I'm so happy to be out of the hospital that I walk into Gabriel's house with a huge smile. I even hug Andre and the rest of the staff.

"Oh, no. I should've brought the beautiful bouquet Gabriel sent to the hospital room," I cry. "I totally forgot. I hope they give it to another patient. You should've seen it, it was so gorgeous."

Andre shakes his head. "Don't worry. He's already arranged for another to be sent here, I'm sure."

Andre winks and I giggle.

Gabriel stands back, scowling. He'd procured a wheelchair to get me from the car to the front door, but I'd rolled my eyes and walked in on my own two legs.

"Maybe I'll take a swim," I say, walking toward the door that leads to the pool.

"Maybe you'll get into bed and rest," Gabriel says.

The staff scurries away, probably sensing a spat is brewing. Instead, I walk to Gabriel and put my arms over his shoulders. "Don't you think that some sunshine will be good for me? Vitamin D?"

His nostrils flare. "Maybe a bit of late afternoon sun would be beneficial. But I don't think you should swim."

I lean up and press my lips to his. "You heard the doctor. He said light exercise is fine."

"He said no hot tubs and no sitting around in wet bathing suits."

"Fine," I sigh. "But dry bathing suits are okay, which means I can read a book and lie in the sun."

"I guess."

He takes my hand and we walk upstairs.

"Why are you extra grumpy today?" I ask as we head into the bedroom. "I thought you'd be happier that I'm out of the hospital."

He circles my waist with his arm and pulls me close. "I'm sorry. There's just a lot going on. But I'm ecstatic you're home."

I stand on my tiptoes so I can kiss his lips. It's been days since we've had a proper kiss, and it's like I'm starved for his mouth. I'm swiping my tongue over his bottom lip when he breaks away.

He cradles my face in his hands. "Riley, I'm sorry to do this, but I have to get to my lawyer's office today. There's an issue with a development I've invested in. I was hoping I wouldn't have to leave you tonight, but—"

"No, it's okay." I try to hide my hurt. "I'm going to take a long, hot shower and lie outside. I feel like I've been cooped up for days."

"If you need anything, Andre will be here. And I've instructed the staff about your medication schedule. Oh, and I've hired a nutritionist for you. They'll be here tomorrow."

I walk away from Gabriel and flop dramatically on the bed. "Sweetie, I don't need a nutritionist."

"Yeah, you do. You need to eat better. Pizza and crap from the vending machine at work doesn't cut it. You need to boost your immune system."

Part of me warms from the thought that he cares so much that he's gone to all this trouble. But it seems like overkill. I'm not going to argue with him now. "We'll talk about it later. Will you be home for dinner?"

"Absolutely. Wouldn't miss it for anything."

Gabriel comes to the bed and crawls on top of me, caging me with his arms. "I love you."

I study his handsome face. His eyes look tired. "I love you, too."

He kisses me softly and leaves. For a moment I think about climbing into bed — even though I've been lying around the hospital, snoozing and watching TV for three days — I'm still not a hundred percent.

But then I think about how gross I feel and go into the bathroom.

I moan as the rainfall shower spray hits me, and moan again when I smell the expensive body wash that Gabriel's bought. I lather up my entire body twice, reveling in the sensation.

I even think about masturbating, but hold off. The doctor said that I should "avoid any action down there for a couple of weeks." He's also given me an antibiotic to take after sex.

My hand is about to slide over my pussy. No, I probably shouldn't. I'm horny as hell, though, and the feeling of Gabriel's mouth is still imprinted on my lips.

With a frustrated little grunt, I decide to lather up my hair instead. The last thing I want is the infection to return — and the doctor said to be careful about the kind of lube, soap, and lotion I use down there.

Once I've washed all of the hospital funk off, I towel-dry my hair, throw on a bikini and a cover-up, and head down to the pool with a book.

Andre scurries out with the largest water bottle I've ever seen.

"Gabriel wanted you to have this, so you'd hydrate." He sets it on the table next to me.

I pick it up and grunt. "This thing is like a brick. It practically has its own area code."

Andre smiles. "He's worried about you."

"I know, but it's a little much."

He shakes his head. "I've never seen him so worked up. He called me from the hospital and the panic in his voice..."

That tugs at my heart. I unscrew the cap of the water jug and take a sip. "I'll be a good girl and drink my water."

"You'd better, because he'll have my head if you don't."

We grin at each other. I know Gabriel wouldn't do anything to Andre, since he's a trusted confidante. I'd learned a while back that Andre is more than an assistant. He has a law degree and an MBA.

"Thank you," I call out to him as he walks off.

As I settle into my chair, I consider whether I should call my editor. Screw that. I've been in the hospital with a serious infection. I'd gotten a text telling me to take this week, and possibly next week, off.

So I'm going to aggressively relax, just like Gabriel wants. He's getting a bit too protective, with the nutritionist idea, but we'll discuss it later.

For now, I'm going to read my romance novel and soak up the rays. My eyes skim a chapter, but I can't concentrate. The bright sunshine and the heat are lulling me to sleep. It feels so damned good out here.

The medicine definitely is making me sleepy. I'm about to shut my eyes when the glass door to the house slides open.

"Heyyyy, beautiful. Welcome home."

A woman strolls toward me in a semi-sheer black sundress and black chunky sandals. She's wearing a wide-brimmed black hat and dark sunglasses.

It's Catherine, and I'm not sure how I should feel about her sudden arrival.