“No, it isn’t,” Jaxon said. When had he awoken? She hadn’t felt him move. “You almost killed her.”

Hesitant, Dallas stepped forward. “You can’t beat me up about it more than I’m doing to myself.”

“I could try.”

Dallas squared his shoulders, half accepting, half belligerent. “Try, then.”

Mishka didn’t want to be responsible for a rift between Jaxon and his friends. She loved him too much for that. Propping her weight on her elbow, she leaned down and nibbled on his ear. “Forgive them. Please. Think of the fun we’ll have torturing them mercilessly with their guilt.”

His gaze locked with hers. “Can I tell them the truth?”

After a moment’s hesitation, she nodded. “Sure, why not?”

His lips twitched but his eyes were hard as he stared over at the pair. He told them about the chip, how she’d been controlled by it. For once, she wasn’t ashamed, guilty, or angry that someone might pity her. The present and future would no longer be spoiled by the past. She wouldn’t allow it.

By the time Jaxon finished, Mia and Dallas were pale. Shamed.

Mishka took pity on them, but only because they’d always had Jaxon’s best interests at heart. “How’s the hand?” she asked Mia.

“Healing,” the agent said, then added dryly, “Thanks for not slicing the bones to powder.”

“My pleasure.”

“I know you could have done a lot worse. Bitch,” she muttered.

Mishka tried not to smile. Coming from Mia, the word was a compliment. Sometimes. “I have a policy not to hurt ballerinas more than necessary.”

Mia ran her tongue over her teeth, but remained silent.

She turned to Dallas. “No side effect after stun?”

“Besides the personality change?” he asked, his voice as dry as Mia’s had been. At least there was emotion now, self-deprecating as it was. “Besides wanting to kill you one moment, then kill myself instead the next?”

“Yeah. Besides.”

“Nope.”

They shared a grin.

“Good,” she said, and kissed Jaxon’s lips. “Does this mean we’re all friends now?”

“Hell, no,” Mia said. “I’m not painting your nails or shopping with you. This just means we’re not going to try and kill each other.”

“That’s all I ever wanted.” Mishka eyed Dallas again. “So. Since you two are friends, does that mean she paints your nails?”

“Sadly, yes.” Dallas uttered the words deadpan.

Jaxon laughed. “Get out of here, guys. You can send her flowers or something.”

They argued about the flowers (who would do the sending) and the nail painting (what color looked best on Dallas) the whole way out.

Mishka looked up at Jaxon, who was smiling up at her. However, he couldn’t hide the concern in his eyes. “You tamed me, my friends—kind of—and the Schön. Only one thing left for our happily ever after.”

Yes, she thought. The chip. As soon as he recovered, they’d have to deal with that damn chip.

Four and a half weeks later

Jaxon had Mishka moved into his—their—house, a ring on her finger, and now, his wife, fresh from surgery. Twice he almost lost her. Twice her heart stopped beating and the doctors had to bring her back.

Twice he almost died himself.

He would rather have her with him, dependent on Estap’s survival, than live a single day without her, he realized all too soon yet all too late. He hated himself for pushing her to have the surgery.

But after sixteen hours of hell on Earth, watching from a glass partition as his wife’s hair was shaved and her head freaking sawed open like a melon, he finally felt like he could breathe again and wasn’t in danger of vomiting his intestines.

The doctors predicted a long but hopefully full recovery, even though the chip had been embedded deep and was connected to things it shouldn’t have been. She might have memory problems, but with her past she might appreciate that. As long as she didn’t forget him, he was happy.

God, was he happy. He stopped hating himself when she began to rouse, her swollen eyes opening.

She lay on a clean bed, monitors strapped all over her body, and he climbed in beside her, oh so careful. This was the complete opposite of all those weeks ago, when he’d woken up in the hospital and she’d been beside him.

“Jaxon,” she said, the word slurred. She was groggy, but happiness shone in her eyes.

“I’m here, baby.”

“How do I look?”

He peered over at her. Her eyes were swollen, her forehead discolored, and her head wrapped in a thick white turban. “Never better.” And he meant it. No matter what she looked like, she was beautiful to him.

Her lips twitched, as more and more sleep and exhaustion receded. “You don’t mind the shaved head?”

“Hell, no. You’re sexy and tough as shit. Only downside is that there’s nothing for Mia to braid if you girls ever decide to do a sleepover.”

“Ah, you’re so sweet.”

“No, I’m honest. I’m also a man in love, and once you’re up and around I’m going to prove it. Over and over again.”

That twitching became a full-fledged smile, though her head lolled to the side as if it were too heavy for her to hold in one place.

“The gang is currently in my living room, watching TV, eating every crumb in the house, and waiting to hear how you are.” Jaxon traced a fingertip down the firm plane of her stomach. He was going to spend the rest of his life making this woman happy, making her smile and laugh. “But I want you all to myself.”

As he touched her, her monitors began to beep a little faster, a little louder. “Estap still in his coma?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“When I’m at full strength, I’m going to give you his head as a present. You can do whatever you want with it. That should prove my love for you.”

Jaxon chuckled softly. “My sweet killer, a softy down deep.”

Slowly she raised a hand and brushed it over his jawline. As she peered at him, she frowned.

“What?” He wanted her smiling. Always.

“I just asked the chip the likelihood of us staying together.”

Old habits. He hoped she did not come to regret losing the chip. “And?” he asked gently.

“Silence. That’s weird. I cannot remember a time when there was not a voice inside my head, giving me the answers I needed.”

“Well, I can tell you the answer to this one. I’m not a math whiz, but there’s a one hundred percent chance I’m never letting you go.”

Her frown melted away, and she gifted him with that smile he’d so craved. “God, but I do love you. I think I’m going to like coming to you rather than the chip.”

Now he smiled. “I’m glad.”

“You gave me ecstasy when all I’d ever known was sorrow,” she said. “In return, I’m sorry to say I think I’m going to be high maintenance like Cathy. I’ll probably even cling.”

“Cling to me all you want, then cling to me some more.” Gently, so gently, he kissed her. “I’ll never be able to get enough of you.”

She chuckled, and the sound warmed his heart. Life, he thought, was so damn good.