“Poor Riona,” she says. “She was so close to Uncle Oran . . . I can’t believe he would do that to her.”

I think about what Fergus said. And I think what I’d like to do to Oran, if he was still alive. Fergus is right. Oran got off easy, with a clean shot between the eyes.

Nessa sees the murderous expression on my face. Far from frightening her, it seems to please her.

“I’m glad she has you here,” Nessa says. “You’re going to stay here with her?”

“Yes,” I say, firmly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good,” Nessa says. She leans over and kisses Riona softly on the cheek. “Tell her I came to see her,” she says. “I’ll come back again in the afternoon.”

“I’ll tell her,” I promise.

* * *

I’m glad that I’m the only one in the room when Riona finally wakes. I’d hate to sit back and let the others crowd around her. I’d hate to try to hide what I feel.

When her eyelids flutter open, the first thing she sees is my face. I watch her expression. I see the relief and happiness in her eyes.

“Raylan,” she whispers.

Her voice is hoarse because of the tube they put down her throat.

“You don’t have to talk,” I tell her.

“Yes, I do,” she says.

I grab the tumbler of ice water the nurses left, and I hold the straw to her lips so she can take a sip. Once she’s swallowed it down, she can speak a little easier.

“You saved me,” she says. “Again.”

“You saved yourself,” I tell her. “You shot Oran.”

She frowns, that green fire flaring up in her eyes. “That asshole,” she says. “He stole the money, not Josh.”

“I figured as much,” I say. “I didn’t think you shot him just for having bad taste in pocket squares.”

Riona gives a raspy little chuckle. “Don’t joke,” she says. “I can’t laugh right now.”

“I can’t help it,” I say. “I’d do anything to make you smile.”

She’s smiling now. She reaches up and touches my face, gently.

“I can’t believe you came back here,” she says.

“I’d go anywhere for you, Riona. I’d do anything. I know I probably shouldn’t tell you that. You don’t like anything if it’s too easy. But it’s true—you’ve got me wrapped around your little finger.”

“I could say the same to you,” she says, arching one perfectly shaped eyebrow. “I know what Long Shot means.”

“Yeah? Well you were the longest shot I ever took. What do you think? Did I make it?”

“Yes,” she tries to hold back her smile but she can’t. “I don’t know how you did it, but you hit the bullseye.”

I can’t stop grinning. I have to lean over her hospital bed to kiss her. And what was supposed to be a gentle, careful kiss turns into something much harder and deeper. Because I’m flooded with too much emotion—relief that this woman I adore is safe and sound in my arms. Happiness that she wants me here. And that intense desire that’s sparked by the softness of her lips and the scent of her skin. A desire that doesn’t give a damn that she’s stuck in this bed with an IV in her arm. I still want her. I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anything.