Chapter 45
FORTY-FIVE
That screamed roar will forever be in my ears. But he will never threaten my woman again.
The bullet spits from the muzzle of my gun, the crack deafening in the small kitchen.
Everything is in slow motion. Space and time warps.
I catalog my hand on Rosalie’s head, tangled in her thick hair, pressing her down toward the floor.
The spray of blood from Walton’s body moves in slow motion as red drops hit the cabinets.
Coffee flows across the worn boards.
Acrid, burnt gunpowder hits my nose with every rapid inhale.
Spence kicks the weapon away from the screaming man.
Relief.
Forcing a swallow full of nails, I look down.
Profound, bone-melting relief washes over me. Through me. Filling me from head to toe with warmth.
She’s safe.
“Jesus,” I rasp, dragging Rosalie up from the floor, into my arms. “It’s okay, honey. It’s all over.”
She grabs me, fiercely clinging to me, wrapping her arms and legs around me. “I didn’t know what to do,” she sobs.
“You did everything perfectly.”
All I can do is breathe against her temple as I choke, tears knifing at the back of my eyes.
“My brave, smart girl.”
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale fully.
I breathe with ease for the first time since I found out there was a hired killer on her trail.
“It’s over,” I whisper hoarsely against her ear, crushing her tighter. “It’s fucking over. All of it.”
“Get her out of here!” Spence barks, wearing a battle-hardened expression as he grabs Walton.
It wasn’t a kill shot.
That would have been too fast, too painless for someone who was going to kill Rosalie for fucking money.
I snap back into mission mode, evacuating the kitchen through the back door.
She’s shaking. I’m shaking. The adrenaline is running hot and volatile.
The door slams the wall. Hell-bent on getting her away from that monster, I lurch out onto the porch.
My vision is still fogged with shock and fury. But as I step onto the back porch, a ray of sunshine, some of the last of the evening light, breaks through the trees.
It freezes me in my tracks.
She’s alive. We’re alive. The threat is over. The mission is complete.
For a long beat, I stand there holding her against my heart, feeling hers flutter wildly, until I can catch my breath.
“I love you,” she whispers against my neck and I nod, rasping out, “I know sweetheart, I feel it. I love you too.”
Feeling a thousand pounds lighter, I descend to the yard.
“They got Beast out, I’ll tell you everything,” I promise Rosalie as I move across the yard, carrying her to a low rock wall that borders the opening.
It’s a good thing there’s a place to sit down because my legs are barely functional. The adrenaline is leaving. A bone-weary fatigue rolling into me.
That’s where we are when Spence finds us later. I’m still holding Rosalie on my lap. He’s got three cold beers in his hands, already opened.
He sighs as he takes the seat next to me, passing me one of the bottles, the other to Rosalie.
“I couldn’t bring you guys coffee since someone smashed the pot.”
Rosalie’s the first to laugh. It’s a rough, husky sound to start that builds to the light, clear tone that makes me close my eyes.
“I shouldn’t be laughing, someone died,” she apologizes.
“He’s not dead, but he wishes he was.” Spence clinks his bottle against hers. “Welcome to the Morbid Survivor’s club, jokes are welcome.”
Looking relieved, she says, “Okay, so this is even worse, but I have to say it.”
Spence and I share a look.
“This should be good,” he says, taking a drink from his beer.
She covers her eyes, then rushes out, “At least he’ll be mad about getting shot and won’t be mad about us breaking the bed.”
Oh god damn. I love this woman.
I lay a loud kiss on her cheek.
“You never cease surprising me,” I say, giving her a squeeze. “You’re gonna fit right in with this bunch.”
Spence clinks his bottle against ours, and we all drink, letting the quiet of the forest settle around us for a long time.
“You think that file Walton had on the Wraith was just a decoy?” he asks.
“Good question. We might get some intel from Westerly too. Beast and Truck have got him on a boat heading to the mainland right now. I need to message them, but I have to have a second to breathe first.”
Rosalie lifts her head from my shoulder. “Beast is okay?”
“More than okay,” I report, “he captured Westerly, recovered all kinds of incriminating files. The team freed the people who were being held there, and has a pretty good idea why they wanted that soil so badly.”
She blows out a breath. “Whew. This is such a relief.”
“Ready for Costa Rica?” I ask, resting my forehead against her temple.
“Am I ever.”
But then the boss calls.