Page 95 of Lock ’N’ Load

The sleazy smile returned in full force. “Do you know who I am?”

“I don’t give a fuck who you are.” Matt holstered and yanked a set of cuffs from his belt. Without a shred of gentleness, he jerked Lukashin’s arm to the small of his back, clicking one cuff on the man’s wrist, then repeating the process with his other arm.

“You should. I have diplomatic immunity. I’ll be out of jail before nightfall.”

“Don’t count on it, asshole.” Matt roughly handed the rezidentura over to Dayne and Jaime. “Pat this piece of garbage down. Careful of sharps. Son of a bitch likes needles.” He nodded to the metal tray and began unbuckling the straps at Trista’s wrists and ankles. Placing two fingers at her carotid, he checked her pulse, grateful for the slow, steady thumping beneath his fingers.

Gently, he picked her up in his arms, nestling her head against his shoulder. “I’m taking her down the mountain to a hospital. Kade, you’re with me.”

“You got it.” Kade led the way out the door while Nick, Eric, and Markus remained behind to deal with the two thugs and the local authorities.

As they passed the rezidentura, Trista lifted her head. Before Matt could stop her, she lashed out with her fist, popping Lukashin in the eye. The man’s head jerked back, and he uttered something Matt assumed was a Russian oath.

With Dayne and Jaime gripping Lukashin’s elbows, the blow was hardly strong enough to knock him down, but it might just leave him with a little shiner.

“Thazzz fer burning down my house, you—you…azzhole.” Her head fell back against her shoulder. “Sssorry, Matt,” she mumbled. “Truth serummm gives me potty mouth.”

“Well, look at that.” Jaime snorted. “Little pixie learned a new curse word today. Asshole.”

Nick grinned. “She’s definitely got the hang of that right hook I taught her.”

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Matt’s friends chuckled, and he resisted the urge to plow his own fist into the rezidentura’s face.

“Sheba, k noze.” As he made for the door, the dog heeled at his side, glancing occasionally up at Trista in his arms. She moaned, an adorable little smile lifting her lips, one that gave him reassurance that the asshole really had been telling the truth. Not that he’d ever experienced it, but sodium pentothal was old-school truth serum, the effects of which were similar to being drunk.

“Baby?” he whispered as Kade opened the passenger seat of Matt’s Explorer. “It’s Matt. Can you hear me?”

Her lids cracked enough for him to get a flash of green eyes. “Maaatt.” She giggled sleepily. “Handsome man. Totally hot guy.”

His heart somersaulted with relief. If she could joke around, she’d probably recover, but a checkup at the hospital was in her future, regardless of his medical opinion.

Kade had already loaded Sheba into the Explorer. “Right behind you, buddy.”

After lowering Trista into the passenger seat, Matt gripped the other man’s shoulder for a moment in silent thanks.

Luckily, the rain had eased and less than an hour later, he laid Trista down on a gurney and watched her get wheeled into the ER. He’d taken a step to follow, then stopped.

“You’re not gonna go with her?” Kade eyed him with surprise.

He stood rooted, clenching and unclenching his hands. As things stood, he was unable to move forward and unable to go back. She’d changed him.

He wanted his little pixie so much, the thought of living his life without her now was unthinkable. He wanted to be all things to her, forever and always. Friend. Lover. More, if she’d have him. But it was too soon.

Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself for what he had to do next—confront his past.

“Promise me you’ll stay with her,” he said to Kade, who nodded. Then Matt turned and walked out of the ER.

Chapter Thirty-One

The early November air was crisp and cool as Trista jogged into Bonnie and Kevin’s driveway. She and Poofy had been staying with her friends for the past month while her house was being rebuilt. Much to her surprise, while she’d been in protective custody at the safe house, her friends had finally hooked up and moved in together.

“’Bout time,” she’d said, happy for both of them, although inwardly sad because now she felt like a third wheel. Lovers—especially new lovers—needed privacy, and her presence wasn’t helping any. She’d lost count of how many times she’d rounded a corner and caught them in a major lip-lock.

After catching her breath, she leaned down to grab the Saturday morning paper and tossed it onto the porch before doing her stretches. Running every other morning and doing light weights or some sort of aerobic workout had become her routine, partly to get in shape and to give her friends some alone time.

“Who am I kidding?” She rested her hands on the side of her car for some calf stretches. True, her workout routine was all part of the new and improved Trista Gold, the vastly more confident version of her old self, but for a couple hours every day, it also had the added bonus of keeping her mind off what was missing in her life. Matt.

She alternated pressing one heel to the pavement then the next, deepening the stretch with each repetition. After awakening in a hospital, she’d looked for him, certain he’d been there, but all she’d found was Kade. When she was coherent, Kade gave her the rundown of what had taken place at the psychiatric center, including how Lukashin and one of his thugs had been arrested while the other had died from a fatal gunshot fired from Matt’s weapon. Ironically, she had no memory of anything, starting right after being injected with sodium pentothal.