Page 89 of Unhinged

“I’ll be fine, sweetheart.” He pulled her flush against him.

“I’m sorry.” She burrowed her head against his chest, her voice cracking on the words. “I’m so sorry. I should have listened to you.”

“Shh,” he murmured against her hair. “Everything is fine now. Everything’s okay.”

She threw a look toward the swollen creek below, the churning water battering the bank. “Is he…?”

“Gone, honey. I’m sorry.”

“I still can’t believe it.” She shivered, and he tightened his arms around her waist as if to shield her from the pain of the memory. “I never thought…”

He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned toward Knox.

“Let’s get out of the rain.”

He hadn’t even realized Mason had retrieved the truck until the headlights swept over them. He ushered Hannah into the back of the cab and climbed up beside her, pulling her into his arms as soon as the door closed behind them.

Mason reached over and cranked the heat. “Locals are on their way. We’ll be outta here soon.”

“Not much to see at this point,” came Knox’s low drawl.

Hannah shuddered at the implication, and he slid his free hand under her legs and scooped her into his lap. She turned her face into his neck, seeking comfort, reminding him again of how close he’d come to losing her. He looped his arms around her like a steel band and pressed a kiss to her temple.

“I’m so glad you’re safe.”

“Me, too.” She turned those beautiful gray eyes on him, so full of love and trust. Concern filled them as they dropped to his shoulder. “Are you sure you’re okay? I’m not hurting you, am I?”

“Not a bit,” he lied. There was no way he was letting her go. He studied her. “How are you?”

“Fine.” The understatement in her tone was evident and painful to his ears.

He lifted one hand and examined her wrist, stroking a finger over the abraded, bruised flesh. His gaze rose to her neck. An angry red line bisected the flesh of her throat where the rope had pulled tightly across the delicate skin. Fury rippled through him at the sight, and he wished Andrew was still alive so he could kill the man all over again, rip him apart with his bare hands.

The urge to put his fist through the window was almost overwhelming, but he forced his attention to the woman in his lap. She was here with him, and she was safe. It was all that mattered.

“We’ll get this fixed up for you as soon as we get to the hospital. Maybe we’ll get a group discount.”

She ignored his joke, a question in her eyes. He opened his mouth then immediately closed it again. That conversation was better had in private.

The sudden flashing of blue lights bouncing off the trees alerted them to the arrival of the locals. They took turns giving statements, though it was obvious to everyone from the state of Hannah’s battered flesh what had happened. The rain had slowed, and, come daylight, they would start searching for Andrew’s body, waiting for it to wash up on shore.

Fortunately, the man was a terrible shot, and the bullet had barely skimmed his shoulder. The flesh wound still ached, and the ER doc cleaned it and dressed it with gauze. Almost six hours later, they were finally on their way home. Andrew’s car had been impounded, and one of the officers retrieved Hannah’s phone and purse for her. Around four in the morning, he pulled up in front of Vantage, and Knox and Mason filed out with twin nods and pointed looks.

As soon as the men were inside the building, he hooked an arm over the back of the seat and turned toward Hannah. “So…?”

She stared at him for several long seconds, the anticipation almost killing him. “Let’s go home.”

Hope billowed up in his chest. Hearing her say the word “home” sent possessiveness curling through him, and fire washed along his nerve endings as he shifted the transmission into drive and headed toward her house.

Hannah scooted closer on the seat, leaning into his side. He curled his arm around her and held her tight, never wanting to let her go again. Neither of them spoke; too much had happened that night, and it would take a while for them to process everything.

He pulled into her driveway a short time later, then slid from the truck and jogged around to let her out. Rain continued to drizzle from the sky, though noticeably lighter than before. Still, he used his body to shelter her as much as possible as they made their way into the house.

Her fingers had barely punched the last button to disarm the security system when he whirled her toward him and swept her into his arms. His mouth slanted over hers as her arms wrapped around his neck, holding him close. He kissed her until they could barely breathe with wanting one another.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his lips exploring the tender flesh. “Tell me.”

His voice broke on the words, the memories of that evening washing over him. He couldn’t begin to describe the terror that had lanced through him during that phone call, wondering if it would be the last time he heard her voice.