Screaming with rage, O’Neill dropped the limp figure in his arms and charged for Paige. “Bitch! It was supposed to be you, not her!” He lugged her up by the hair with an angry grunt and violently smashed her forehead against the wall.

Blood burst across the tapestry.

Stumbling to his feet, Zach roared, “Son of a … !” In a breath-clogging move, he wrapped his numbed, blood-caked arm around O’Neill’s thick neck and wrenched the bastard’s shiny bald head around. He pressed the weapon to his temple. “Let go of her!”

O’Neill growled and pulled Paige’s head back for another slam. The instant Zach heard her terrified scream, he gave a brutal jerk and pulled the trigger. Pop!

O’Neill crashed to the floor. Paige landed flaccid under him.

Cursing, Zach rolled the man’s lifeless body off hers. Pain exploded along his shoulder and arm as he gently eased her away from the bastard’s prone body. He dragged her limp figure across the floor, leaving a trail of fresh blood across the carpet.

He lifted his cell phone painfully from the floor and called 911, code officer down. See if the cruisers didn’t come screeching.

Blood continued soaking his left shoulder, hot and wet and never-ending. Clasping Paige’s limp body against his right side, he shifted until he reclined on the wall, grunting at the pain. “Paige.” He gathered her closer with his one good arm, his trembling hand awkwardly searching for pulse. He found it. Quick and sure, pushing into his fingers.

She was unconscious. A bright red gash raced up her forehead and her nose was dripping. A trail of blood streaked down the corner of her mouth. He rocked her, making a strange, animallike noise. “Baby.”

“He’s dead?”

His breath tore out of him as her lids opened. “Oh sweetheart, yes. Hang on. Hang on.”

Her warmth seeped into him, and his chest flooded with something other than blood, something not mushy but strong and steady and loyal and hers. Always.

Hers.

Her eyes shone with tears as she gazed up at him and he could feel his own burn with emotion. If he’d lost her …

If he’d fucking lost her again …

She reached up to gingerly caress his jaw but her hand fell, her face scrunching up at the sight of his crimson-soaked chest.

“Zach,” she murmured. A sigh shuddered out of her lips. “Zach Rivers. I knew … I saw you and I knew … you were my love.”

“Am I, Paige? Am I?”

“Yes.”

“Oh Christ.” He was afraid to hurt her, tried to be careful, but he could not stop holding her, rocking her, smoothing her hair away from her damp, pale face. “Everything you said.” His fingers shook on her face. “It tore me apart listening. I love you. I want to have babies with you, baby. I want to buy you a house.” He kissed her lips, rocked her harder. “Would you like that? Hmm? To be with me? To be my wife? I promise we’ll do everything we couldn’t do before and more of what we could.”