Now, was the wait reallylong?

Enjoy!

2 Months Later . . .

Gunshots.

I bolt upright in bed as I listen to the deafening bangs of the gunshots that are coming from the front of the house I've been calling home for the past few days.

The gang. My mind tells me. But how did they find me? True I cut off the head of the snake, but that didn't mean I never considered the possibility of anyone else from the gang coming after me. Which was why, even though I thought the probability was high that I was finally safe, I still moved around as often as I could, and I still covered my tracks.

I throw back the covers and pull out the gun I keep in the nightstand. It wasn't as if I liked guns, especially after . . . everything, but there was no way I was going down easy. Ryder would be impressed I've even got a gun.

I feel a pang in my chest at the thought of Ryder but I shove it aside as I walk slowly and quietly down the hallway to the front door. Before I make it all the way out of the hallway and into the room, the door is kicked open and off its hinges.

It's pitch black outside and I can only see the silhouette of the intruder. I raise the gun instinctively.

"You shoot me again and I'm going to be even more pissed than I already am."

I freeze at the familiar voice, at the warmth that spreads throughout my body when I hear it. Ryder.

I lower the gun and walk out of the hallway, into the foyer. I put the gun on a table up against the wall and take in the lock of the door that's been shot off, as well the excessive amount of bullet holes in the keypad that was supposed to prevent the door from opening.

Ryder sees where I'm looking. "You need better security." His voice is a low growl, angry and hurt.

I say nothing as I switch on the light and take in his appearance. Worn out jeans, tousled brown hair, sunglasses clipped to the front of a black t-shirt stretched tight across his chest, showing his muscles, scuffed up tennis shoes, his FBI windbreaker, and green eyes blazing with barely controlled rage. His whole body is tense and practically shaking as he struggles not to do something stupid. Like strangle me.

He's majorly pissed.

"You look good," I say honestly.

His harsh glare doesn't let up. "Compared to what? The man lying on his death bed in the hospital?" He questions sarcastically and I flinch. He takes a step towards me, his eyes burning brighter. "The man you left lying in the hospital?"

I find it hard to speak. "I wouldn't have left if there was any doubt that you wouldn't make it."

"Now why doesn't that give me a warm fuzzy feeling inside?"

I glare at him. "You almost died because of me, Ryder. If you'd died I wouldn't have been able to live with that. So, I determined it was better for you if I left."

"After I'd taken my medication for the day and fell unconscious," He states. "I wake up and you're gone. No one can tell me where you've gone. No goodbye, nothing." His jaw tightens. "After all we've been through the least you could have done was say goodbye."

I shrug and wrap my arms around myself. "I thought about it and decided that the odds favored against it."

Ryder groans and throws his hands up in the air.

I stare down at the floor. "I didn't want you getting hurt because of me."

"And why don't I get a say in this?"

"Because you're completely irrational."

The moment the words leave my mouth I realize they were exactly the wrong things to say because Ryder seems to get even angrier.

I wrap myself in my arms, staring back at the floor again as I struggle to keep myself together. To keep from running into his arms.

I look out the open doorway behind him. "You should go," I whisper softly.

Ryder glares at me. "Is that really what you want?"

"Yes," I reply. The word tastes bitter in my mouth.

Ryder walks right up to me and gets in my face. "Then look me in the eyes and say it."

His presence in front of me is suffocating and I find myself wishing he'd lean in the rest of the way. Wishing I'd take that one step to put us even closer so we'd be touching.

Instead, I take several steps back so I can think clearly. I look up at him, stare straight back in his eyes as I say, "I want you to go."

Something sparks in his eyes and for a second, I think it's hurt. But as he takes a step toward me, I see it for what it really is, determination.

A stubborn kind of determination.

Oh hell.

He stares down at me. "No," He says flatly.

I narrow my eyes slightly and then shake my head. I change the subject. "How did you find me? I made sure I covered my tracks."

"I found you two days after you left. I was still in the hospital when you switched places again. I was hoping you'd stop being stupid," There's that word again. "and come back on your own."

"Come back on my own?" I repeat.

He takes another step toward me, and I back up, hitting a wall. "I told you once you couldn't run away, not from me." My heart is pounding as he takes another step toward me, his eyes glittering dangerously. "That I'd track you down wherever you go. That there was nowhere on this earth where I wouldn't be able to find you. I found you, Nicky. I can always find you. There's nowhere for you to run, nowhere for you to hide, because if you think I'll ever let you get away that easy . . ."

His arms are on either side of me on the wall, boxing me in. His forehead is pressed against mine, his eyes burning into mine, our breaths mixing. "You're dead wrong."

I stare at him, my heart pounding, my mind not clearly processing his words. "And I told you this was a bad idea. It'll never work."

"Why don't I get a say in that?" He whispers as he lowers his head and his lips brush over my neck.

I try to focus on his words, but it's not working all that well for me. "Because you're not thinking clearly," I reply, my voice breathless.

"No, I'm thinking as clear as ever," He replies. "And I'm not letting you go, even if I have to handcuff you and bring you back."

"That could pose a problem with airport security."

"I'd handle it."

"What the heck would I even do?"

"Get an apartment or move into mine, and I hear the FBI needs a new computer analyst."

"Me? Working for the FBI? That's just asking for trouble."

"I'll put in a good word. And I'll get you a better fake ID. No one will ever know."

"Oh my God. You're breaking the law for me now. You must have hit your head harder than I thought."

"This has nothing to do with hitting my head." He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me into him. "This has everything to do with a brilliant but incredibly stupid-"

"Ryder."

"-hacker that made me fall in love with her."

I feel my heart stop at his words. "I never did tell you the probability of this blowing up in our faces," I tell him.

"Shut up," He says, his lips brushing mine. "I don't want to know, and I'll prove you wrong."

Then he's kissing me, slow and deep. His hands holding me tight against him, my hands snaking up and around his neck, pulling him even closer.

He breaks away and rests his forehead on mine once again. "I'm completely and madly in love with you, Nicolette Moore. And I'm not letting you go. Not without a fight. So, I guess that means you're stuck with me matchstick."

"I told you not to call me that," I whisper before pulling his lips back down to mine. When we pull away, we're both breathless. I lay my head on his chest and his arms tighten around me. "I love you too," I whisper breathlessly. And I've never been more sure of any fact in my life.

"I know," He says, and I can hear the smugness in his tone. I hit him and he laughs.

"So what do you say rusty?" He asks me. "You coming back with me? Or am I going to have to retrieve you?

I smile and laugh as I look up at him, at his sparkling green eyes staring down at me and I don't hesitate with my answer.

"Yes."

"Yes to kidnapping, or yes to coming back with me?"

I roll my eyes and I wrap my hands around his neck. "You're unbelievable."

He laughs and bends down to brush a kiss against my lips. "Carrot top, you ain't seen nothing yet."

THE END