“No.” Coming up next to her again, he stole another soft kiss. “Why would you even say that?”
She turned her face away, and he saw tears tracking down her bruised cheeks again. “You’re going to hate me and so will Addie.”
Her upset just about killed him. “Never, Glory. That will never ever happen.”
“Damn it,” she rasped low, without much breath. “I am such a pathetic mess.”
“You’re not pathetic and you’re not a mess. You’re hurt, and I wish I could somehow make it better.” He got as close to her as he could without bumping her, without causing her more pain. “All I can do is swear to you that no one will hate you. Not for any reason.”
The shuddering breath she drew made her freeze, stark agony on her face. “Oh, God.”
They both went still for several seconds.
“I think it’s the medication,” she finally whispered. “It’s making me whiny.”
“But it’s clearly not helping enough.” Kam wanted to find the nearest nurse or doctor and demand they do something—but what? The doctor had said her ribs would hurt the worst for the first week. Seven days of this? He had to remind himself that Glory was strong, a fighter, who’d already come through one wreck, then the multiple surgeries that followed.
“You impress the hell out of me.” He touched his mouth to hers one last time—for now—then said, “Callie is anxious to see you.”
“This shouldn’t have happened when she’s supposed to be celebrating her new marriage.”
Through the door, Callie said, “I can hear you, Glory, and you know better. Now kick out Kam, so I can have a turn.”
Wasn’t easy, but he came to his feet. “I’m taking you home, and I’ll be taking care of you.” He lightly brushed his fingertips over her jaw. “Don’t let Callie convince you of anything different.”
“I can manage on my own.”
“Cruel,” he murmured, trying to sound light instead of tormented. “I know you won’t be cruel.” Not wanting to hear anything else, Kam stepped out to give Callie a turn. He didn’t look at her or Tanner, or any of the medical people coming and going along the hallway. He went to a wall, braced his arms against it, and lowered his head.
Far as he was concerned, Mike was a dead man, and if that made him like his father, he didn’t care.
10
Mike had never been so panicked in his life.
Injured. His beautiful, perfect Glory was injured, and he didn’t even know how badly. If he tried asking around, he might implicate himself.
Half an hour ago, he’d called Kirby on the burner phone and gotten the awful truth. While he’d been following her, as close as he dared so he wouldn’t lose her, she’d swerved to avoid hitting a dog.
That had led to her crashing into a large sturdy oak, her car mangled around it. Kirby had taken off. Mike hated that she’d been left alone on the long deserted road, but he had to agree that Kirby was right. If he’d been found and questioned, it might have—somehow—led back to him.
Mike couldn’t very well love Glory, worship her, and possess her if he was tossed in jail.
Stark fear left him shaking. All Kirby knew was that her carwas in a ditch, smashed around the tree, and blood was on the windshield.
Blood. His Glory’s blood.Is she dead? Is she disfigured?
At the same bar where he’d met Shara, Mike knocked back a whiskey. It burned all the way down his throat and landed like fire in his stomach, but it didn’t offer any relief. His hands were shaking, his eyes itching.
He had to find out if she was okay, but how?
He should kill Kirby, the fucking idiot. Obviously, he’d done something wrong. Mike had only wanted Glory followed. He’d wanted her worried.
Not injured.
How could she come to him if she was hurt?
Just then, he heard someone say,“You hear about that wreck out on Mill Road?”