"Laney," I start, but I don't finish.

It happens so fast. The alarms sound from the nurses' station outside the room. The monitors flash. And Maverick begins to shake. He spasms on the bed, his chest rising off the mattress, his arms flailing, his eyelids fluttering.

Laney rushes over, and nurses dart into the room.

"Stat page Dr. Santos."

A nurse hurries out. Others read monitors, adjust the IVs, take Maverick's blood pressure.

"What's happening? What are you doing?" I glance up at the screens, then back to the nurses.

"We're increasing the IV solution. Checking his vitals."

"He's convulsing! Oh G.o.d, what's wrong with him?"

"I'm sorry, but you'll need to wait outside. The doctor will come speak with you as soon as she can."

I don't think. Fear takes hold in a splash of crimson, and I fling myself on top of my husband.

I'm not going anywhere. Not with Maverick like this.

Chapter 32.

Chicago, Illinois 11 months ago I haven't been around many newlyweds, and I certainly haven't been a part of their private talk, so I don't know if what we do is normal. Do most new wives name their husband's p.e.n.i.s? I named Maverick's d.i.c.k d.i.c.kerson and made the observation that though Maverick is most definitely male, his p.e.n.i.s is female.

"d.i.c.k has a hole. He doesn't have his own p.e.n.i.s," I explain. "Maybe d.i.c.kana would be a better name."

"A p.e.n.i.s is a p.e.n.i.s. By definition it's male. And no, you are not naming him d.i.c.kana."

"I think d.i.c.kana is a pretty name for a girl p.e.n.i.s."

Maverick blinks his dark eyes, and I circle my arms around him. "Do you have a better name?" I ask.

"How about Iron Man?"

"So your p.e.n.i.s is an arrogant p.r.i.c.k?"

"But he's hard as iron, and you like that."

"d.i.c.k d.i.c.kerson is as hard as iron too. I know; I've checked."

"Why does he even need a name?"

"Because I have to call it something." I reach between us and unb.u.t.ton his jeans. Smiling up at him, I bat my eyes as I slip my hand down his boxers to find my prize. Maverick's eyes fall shut when I fold my fingers around him.

"Call it whatever you want just as long as you keep doing what you're doing."

I'm smug at my win, but I keep ma.s.saging him because I haven't actually won anything until we collapse on the bed and he's inside me.

He grabs me at the back of the neck and our lips crash together. We kiss, tearing at each other's clothes when the doorbell rings. Maverick groans against my mouth. Gives me one last peck and lets go of me.

He races me to our front door. He's only half-dressed, wearing a pair of boxers, a T-s.h.i.+rt, and dress socks. I'm fully clothed, but with three b.u.t.tons of my blouse undone. I fumble to secure them as I chase after him.

"It's my turn!" I cry out.

He reaches the door first, of course. He spins around, desire still lighting his gaze. "You talk with everyone who comes over. I just want to get rid of them and get back to getting you naked."

The doorbell rings again.

"You could have ignored the door," I point out, thinking I'm all clever and showing my cleverness by the smug look I'm giving him.

He returns it, and his is better than mine. It's the way the corner of his mouth draws up and only one eyebrow perks.

"Finley? If it's her, she'll stay out there, ringing the d.a.m.n doorbell until someone opens the door. I can't give you all of my good moves when the doorbell is ringing nonstop. Better to get rid of her now."

He's right. She's done it before. Two weeks ago, when we returned home actually.

Ding-dong.

He reaches for the doork.n.o.b, his eyes not leaving mine. He pauses, his way of asking my permission, but I know him and he'll do what he wants with or without my consent.

"Good luck getting her to leave," I say, crossing my arms.

"It'll be easier without you standing here. So"-he lowers his voice into a s.e.xy husk-"why don't you strip down and wait for me in bed?"

He slides his fingers down the center of my blouse, flicking open the top two b.u.t.tons. Our gazes lock.

I lift up on my tip toes and kiss him. "Hurry up."

He smacks my b.u.t.t. "Oh, I will."

He opens the door as I prance down the hallway, debating whether to slip into my carmine teddy or the black lacy one he likes. I'm pretty sure I'm going with black, when an unfamiliar voice stops me.

"Good evening," a man greets Maverick from outside.

"Officer," I hear Mav say, and I come back to his side. Maverick hooks an arm around me to push me back a little. "What can I do for you?"

The police officer nods at me before he answers my husband. "We received a call about a suspect in the area." He shows us a picture. "Do you recognize this man?"

Maverick and I both shake our heads. We've only lived here for two months, and we don't know anyone other than the elderly lady with blue hair next door.

"All right. If you see him, please call the station immediately. He's considered armed and dangerous."

"Yeah, we will. Thank you," Maverick says.

"Have a good night."

Maverick shuts the door and locks the deadbolt we rarely use.

"In the area?" I ask.

"That's what he said."

My attention goes to a window. "Should we lock those too?"

Maverick doesn't answer. He just jumps over the back of the sofa and locks the window. The blinds are already closed, but he draws the drapes too. He does the same to the other two windows in the apartment.

The sound of feet pounding in the hallway above us stops me. Then I hear a gunshot, and suddenly I'm on the floor with Maverick's body on top of mine.

Another shot goes off. Mav's arms tighten around me.

My blood runs cold when I hear shouting and sirens right outside our door. The voices are m.u.f.fled, but I clearly make out "south stairwell." We're the last apartment on the ground floor. The last one beside the south stairwell.

"Alieya, I need you stay low and crawl under the table. Do you understand me?"

"What about you?"

"I'll be right behind you, okay? Just go."

I bob my head, and he raises off of me enough to allow me movement. I prop up on my elbows and army crawl across the floor. Once there, I look back for Mav.

He's on his hands and knees, scooting the sofa in front of the door. The stomping overhead doesn't stop him, but I'm frozen. I lift my eyes to the ceiling. The building has two floors, and movement in the apartment directly above us has stopped. I curl up under the table, trying to make myself as small as possible.

Seconds later, Mav joins me. He gathers me against him and kisses my temple. With my head pressed against his chest, I hear his heart pounding.

Another gunshot, followed by another.

"I'm scared, Mav," I say unnecessarily. The fact is, I've never been more afraid in my life.

He doesn't answer, but judging by the way his leg is bouncing, he's just as scared as me. We stay like that, holding each other, until the noise around us dies out and the sirens fade far into the distance. The sound of doors opening and closing and people talking in the hallways is our clue that it's over.

But we don't open our door. We don't even remove the sofa blocking it.

Slowly, Maverick gets up and offers his hand. Silently, I take it, and he leads me back to our bedroom. He pulls the pillows off the bed and throws them onto the floor. Then he spreads out our comforter against the interior wall.

We lie there, on the floor, with the light still on. We don't make love, we don't talk. There are no words for what just happened. Maverick secures me against his body, s.h.i.+elding me and pressing kisses to my hair. All we need is each other.

Our safe place.

Chapter 33.

Present Day 9:09 a.m.

"Ali, come on."

Finley has her arm around me. She's tugging gently, but I don't loosen my grip on Maverick's blanket. If I do, Finley will take me out of here, and no one will tell me anything about Maverick's condition again.

They don't understand. He's my husband. I need to know what's happening.

"They can't help him with you here," Finley says.

Deep down I know she's right, but I can't leave him. She reaches for my hand. I bat her away.

"No. He needs me."

I need him.

"You can't stay here, Ali."

My best friend doesn't get it either. I'm losing him, and I can't do that. I'm not irrational; I'm desperate.

I'm Maverick two months ago, when I collapsed. The world went dark, and he didn't give up on me. It was I who gave up on him.

I'm not doing that again.

"Blood pressure?" Dr. Santos says, bustling into the room.

"Forty-one over twenty."

"Ma'am," the doctor addresses me. "You need to wait outside."

I shake my head in fast movements, tears stinging my eyes.

"Ali, we need to go." Finley uses more force now to get me away from Maverick's bed. Reluctantly, my fingers loosen, and I let go of him. "Come on. They'll come talk to you when they know something, okay?"

She has me around the waist, pulling me backwards toward the exit. I can't take my eyes off of my husband. He's so pale, so colorless. Bodies surround my Maverick's bed, and I can no longer see him.

Then the door closes, and all I can do is wait.

Chapter 34.