Quit worrying.” Rock Weldon waved a hand at me feebly, the look in his eyes fierce. “You just got shot. Of course I'm worried.” He grimaced. “I know. I guess I'll have to actually use bodyguards now. I'm not a fan of that.” I perched in a chair near the bed, afraid to go closer. It wouldn't do to have someone walk in on me half on top of my billionaire boss—even if we'd already spent a lot of our time alone that way. “Fan or not, yeah. Can we just go back to California where bullets aren't flying, at least not that I know of?” I glanced nervously toward the door, half expecting an assassin to walk through it any minute. “Hell, no. Too much to do, and this is the place to do it.” Rock ground the words out and flinched. “Are you in tons of pain?” I gripped the edge of the chair, wishing I could kiss him, smooth the sweaty hair back from his forehead.
