over his shoulder where his left arm was held suspended in a sling.
"I'm so sorry," I whispered for the thousandth time since shooting him.
He gripped my chin with his free hand, bringing my mouth to his for a long, lingering kiss. "Stop apologizing, Red," he murmured against my lips. "You did what you had to."
It still didn't make me feel like any less of an asshole. Our plan had been to shoot him in the chest where he wore a slim Kevlar vest. But when I'd seen where Chase had been positioned and the way the shadows were falling across the room, I'd known he wouldn't have been fooled. Not unless I made it as real as possible. So I'd done exactly what Chase had expected. Two bullets to the chest—one on the vest as planned and one through his shoulder to cause a believable bleeder. Then the headshot. That was the one that still made me feel sick when I thought about it. My hand had already been shaking from shooting Cass twice, and my bullet that was intended for the wine behind him had actually connected.
"I can't believe you watched your own funeral," I told him with a short laugh, changing the subject as I pulled away from his embrace and headed over to the huge flat-screen that now showed an empty chapel.
Cass followed me and picked up the remote to turn the screen off. "Why not? It's half the fun of being dead."
I bit my lip and shook my head. "The Reapers are going to be beyond pissed if they find out you're still alive."
Cass shrugged and threaded his fingers into my hair, twisting the strands and tugging my face back to meet my eyes. "Fuck them," he growled. "You're the only person on this whole damn planet I care about, Red. If that means playing dead for the rest of my damn life, then I'll do it."
My heart thumped against my ribs, and warmth rushed through my veins. "You're crazy, Saint," I whispered.
He gave me a faint smirk. "Crazy in love with you, Angel," he replied, then kissed me until I forgot how cheesy that line had been. Hell, he kissed me until I barely even remembered my name. But the point remained the same. He might be crazy in love with me, but the feeling was mutual. There wasn't anything I wouldn't do for him, including help fake his death.
My only regret was hiding our plan from Zed and Lucas. That was an oversight I was still trying to mend, but I simply had no good excuse. There was no plausible reason why Cass and I would keep that plan between the two of us... except that we hadn't known we were going through with it until it happened. It'd been a back-up plan at best.
"Is Roach doing what he needs to do?" Cass asked, pulling away to meet my eyes with a concerned frown. This was the part he hated, where he had to lie low at Zed's house and let everyone else continue like he truly was dead.
I nodded. "He is. The small amount of PCP you let through has all been recovered, and the Reapers who'd flipped to Chase's side are already dissolving in a vat of acid up in Canada. He'll do well, I think."
Cass gave a small nod. "And if he doesn't"—he shrugged—"I'll take care of it."
He tugged lightly on my hair, tilting my head back up again. "You look exhausted."
My answering smile was weak. "No shit. You have no idea how hard that was to sit there at your funeral and remember how close I’d come to losing you. Fuck, Saint, if my bullet had landed an inch to the left—"
"It didn't, though." He was firm in cutting me off. "So what do I have to do to make you forget about it?"
Warmth blossomed in my belly, and a sly grin curved my lips. "You're injured and supposed to be on bed rest."
"Fuck that," he grunted. "I don't need bed rest for a shoulder injury." His fingers released my hair and tugged the zipper of my dress down. The fabric slipped easily down my body, pooled at my feet, and left me in a strapless bra and thong set.
"Cass..." I started to say, but he cut off my flimsy protest with a searing hot kiss, stealing the breath from my lungs and filling me with burning desire.
I moaned against his mouth, curving my body against him as he deftly