The Romeo Arrangement

The way he took out Clay in seconds.

The way he said those horrible things so intensely. It was hard not to believe them, even though I knew deep down he was lying to save me.

The way he smiled just before he went crashing down with the goons, stricken by what was in that bottle.

At least the bird crap in Clay’s manicured hair is hilarious and totally fitting.

But the rest is no laughing matter.

I look over and see Dad hugging Jackie Owens like a war just ended.

Maybe it has, but mine isn’t over. Not until I see Ridge and hear Dr. Abrams say he’ll be fine.

She insisted she’d know in roughly half an hour whether or not he needs an ambulance and the hospital. But it’s going on an hour now.

She’s still up there in his room, working, watching his vitals, making sure he’s stable. “It’s like a terrible case of food poisoning,” she’d hinted.

God, I hope so.

Faulkner walks up the steps to the porch where we’re gathered, his emerald-green eyes bright and guarded.

“Great work today, everybody. If I know Ridge, he’ll be happy as hell when he wakes up,” Faulk says, scrubbing a hand through his cropped hair. “And that was some damn good acting you did with him, Grace. Still can’t believe how it ended with the chicken. It kept their attention, that’s for sure.”

If only we’d planned that far ahead.

“What now?” Dad says, turning back to Faulkner and another blue-eyed man with dark-blond hair and wild ink on his arms. I recognize Drake in his police uniform. “If you boys need me to come down to the station now, it’s only fair.”

“That won’t be necessary. They’ll be booked into the county jail as soon as they’ve got that crap out of their systems.” Faulk’s thin smile grows. “That’s the best part. The trial should be in North Dakota, where Grendal’s uncle doesn’t have the same pull he does back in Wisconsin. And he won’t have much for long.”

Drake nods slowly, glancing at the vehicles. “Sheriff’s already back at the station, working on how to hit them at home. This is just the beginning. The Old Town Boys will be as good as gone in less than a week.”

“Hard to believe. Look, I know I flew off the handle earlier,” Dad says, wringing his hands.

“You took ten years off my life worrying about you!” Jackie chimes in, laying a hand on his shoulder.

“Sorry for the scare. I couldn’t chance one more person getting hurt from this crap, so I took action. I knew Ridge had backup. But after what happened to Tobin, things got messy. I thought I’d do what I could to help lure Clay out here. Get it over with. It was high time.” He draws in a deep breath. “And if that means I’ve gotta face the music, so be it.”

“While I ain’t with the Feds officially anymore and can’t promise anything, several guys who are still on active duty promised me an exoneration for your cooperation, Mr. Sellers. Believe me, you’ll get it. There’ll be plenty of time tomorrow for a full statement,” Faulk says, glancing between Dad and me. “Plus, we need somebody to keep Ridge company. I know Tobin’s out of commission, too, a damn shame…”

I’m not sure why he went quiet until I turn around.

Dr. Abrams steps out on the porch, her face grim.

My chest tightens.

I can’t even breathe, afraid to speak the question searing the air.

“He’ll be fine,” she says, pausing so we can exhale our relief. “A little shaky overnight, certainly, and he’ll need that IV drip for a few more hours, however—”

No more words.

I don’t have the patience, the time, or the restraint.

I nearly bowl over the good doctor, launching myself at her in a big fat bear hug. And as soon as she’s regained her balance, I’m gone, sprinting through the house, upstairs, straight to the half-open door of his room, which I fling against the wall.

“Shit, darlin’, where’s the fire?” Ridge blinks at me, his eyes gentle blue stars, sexier than ever and lazily half lidded. I’m not sure if it’s the bad stuff wearing off or something else Abrams gave him.

I don’t care.

Not as I jump on the bed, throw my arms around his neck, and bury my mouth against his.

We definitely break a few new records in speed kissing.

It’s hard remembering I have to pull back and let him rest.

He needs space to breathe.

Jesus, if it wasn’t for the IV in his arm, I think I’d be straddling him this instant with far fewer clothes.

“Holy hell. Ridge, I can’t believe you…that we…”

“Slow down, sweetheart. We did it, didn’t we?” He gives me a slow look.

I nod so fast I think my head might fall off, and keep nodding as I say, “You were amazing! They’re all busted. Faulkner said they’re off to the hospital and then straight to jail. I suppose somebody should check on Cornelius, but…God. What was in that drink?”