Six nurses had quit in five weeks because of the man I was being paid $10,000 a week to keep alive. One fled his mansion sobbing so hard she left her winter coat behind, another threatened to sue, and now I was walking straight into his bedroom knowing only one thing: Liam Mercer supposedly ruled half the city, but he couldn’t even walk himself to the bathroom.

At 11:30 PM, the storm outside reached a crescendo of howling wind and torrential rain.

Inside the mansion, the emergency lights flickered twice, then died completely, plunging the second-floor corridor into total darkness.

"Power grid cut at the main transformer," Leo’s voice crackled through the short-wave radio resting on Liam’s bedside table. "Boss, Vance opened the south gate. Three suburban vans just pulled onto the driveway. Marcus Kane’s men are inside the perimeter!"

I stood near the window, my heart in my throat, watching dark silhouettes moving quickly across the rain-swept lawn below. Flashlights cut through the gloom. Automatic weapons glinted in the dark.

"How many, Leo?" Liam asked into the radio, his voice dead calm as he sat on the edge of his bed, strapping a tactical holster across his chest over a black henley shirt.

"At least twelve, Boss," Leo replied, the sound of heavy gunfire suddenly echoing through the speaker. "We're holding the grand foyer, but they've got heavy armor! You need to move to the vault!"

"Negative, Leo," Liam spat, snapping the magazine into his Kimber .45. "Pull your men back to the service stairs. We funnel them into the narrow hall."

Liam stood up. He didn't use a cane. He didn't use a crutch. Driven by pure adrenaline and an unshakeable instinct for survival, he stood tall, his jaw set, his pale blue eyes gleaming with lethal intent.

He turned to me, reaching into his holster and pulling out a compact snub-nosed .38 revolver, pressing it into my hands.

"Do you know how to use this, Clara?" he asked softly.

"Point and pull," I said, my fingers closing around the cold steel handle. "I worked trauma in South Chicago, Liam. I've seen enough gunshots to know where to aim."

A sharp, dark smile touched his lips. "That's my girl."

BOOM!

A massive explosion shattered the double oak doors at the end of the second-floor corridor, sending wood splinters and drywall dust flying through the air. Heavy boots stomped down the hallway, accompanied by the harsh, metallic racking of assault rifle slides.

"Clear the rooms!" a gruff voice yelled down the hall. "Kane wants Mercer’s head on a spike! Leave no witnesses!"

"They're coming for this room," I whispered, stepping behind Liam, raising the snub-nosed revolver with both hands, aiming directly at the bedroom door.

"Let them come," Liam whispered.

The bedroom door handle jiggled violently. Then, a heavy tactical boot kicked the lock inward.

The door burst open. A mercenary clad in black body armor and a tactical helmet stepped into the frame, his assault rifle raised.

BANG! BANG!

Liam didn't hesitate. Two .45 caliber rounds exploded from his Kimber, punching straight through the mercenary’s neck seam above his body armor. The man collapsed hard onto the floorboard like a sack of cement.

A second mercenary stepped over his fallen comrade, spraying a burst of automatic fire into the room.

Bullets chewed through the mahogany wardrobe, sending clothes and splintered wood flying across the bed.

Liam grabbed my waist, pulling me down behind the heavy, stone-faced fireplace hearth as dust filled the room.

"Clara, stay down!" Liam ordered, firing two more suppression rounds around the stone corner.

From the hallway, a familiar, arrogant voice echoed above the gunfire.

"Liam!" Marcus Kane called out, his voice dripping with sinister satisfaction. "Give it up! Your house is taken! Your guards are dead or surrounded! Step out into the hall and I'll make it quick!"

Liam looked at me in the dim light of the emergency flares flickering outside. He leaned close, pressing his forehead against mine, his hand cuping the back of my neck.

"Listen to me, Clara," Liam whispered, his eyes burning into mine with an intense, fierce devotion. "Behind the book cabinet in the corner is a hydraulic lift that leads directly to the subterranean drainage tunnels beneath the estate. You take the lift. You go to the end of the tunnel. There’s a silver Audi parked in the garage at the highway junction. The keys are under the bumper."

"No," I said instantly, tears springing to my eyes as I grabbed his tactical vest. "I'm not leaving you!"

"You have to go to Tommy!" Liam urged, his voice cracking with emotion. "The helicopter landed at Northwestern twenty minutes ago. He's waiting for you, Clara!"

"I'm not leaving you behind to die, Liam Mercer!" I yelled back, my voice cutting through the sound of gunfire outside. "We go together, or we die in this room!"

Liam stared at me, stunned by the absolute, unyielding defiance in my voice. A profound, beautiful smile broke across his rugged face.

"God, I love you," he breathed, pressing his lips firmly against mine in a fierce, hot, desperate kiss that tasted of gunpowder, rain, and absolute promise.