Chapter Fifteen
Colt shut the door behind them and turned the lock. The cabin was quiet, shadows from the early evening light stretching across the floor. He dropped his gear by the wall and turned to see Brenna standing in the center of the room, looking as if she wasn’t sure she could make it another step.
He knew exactly how she felt.
They were both soaked in fatigue. Dirt, sweat, and ash clung to them like another layer of skin. The day had come at them fast, ending in a dead sprint for their lives. Again. And for what?
Jared was gone.
Buried beneath a ton of rock, his uncle dead a few feet outside the cave. Two more bodies added to a list that was already too long. Colt didn’t need a coroner’s report to know Jared hadn’t survived. There’d been too much blood. No movement. No hope.
They had nothing but a collapsed cave and more questions.
Brenna let out a slow, sharp breath and rubbed the back of her neck. “He was right there. And we still lost him.”
Colt crossed the space and wrapped his arms around her. She didn’t resist. Her head dropped to his chest and she let herself lean into him.
“We’re not done,” he said quietly.
“I know. I just…” She trailed off and sighed again, her breath warm against his collarbone. “I wanted answers. And now we’ve lost the two people who might have had them.”
Colt rested his chin on the top of her head. Her body was tense. She wasn’t crying. But she was hanging by a thread, same as him.
“We’ll find the truth,” he said. “We’re not giving up.”
Her arms slid around his waist. For a moment, they just stood there, holding on.
Brenna eased back from him, her eyes meeting his. Colt saw the weariness there, but something else, too. Something that made it hard to look away.
He thought about kissing her.
Just one kiss.
Her gaze dropped and she sighed. “I need a shower.”
“Yeah. Me too.” His body ached, muscles tight and sore, a reminder of how close they’d come to getting crushed to death. Again.
“You want something to eat first?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Those burgers and fries we had earlier will hold me.”
He nodded. Yeah, they’d hold him as well though it’d been hours since they’d had them delivered to the sheriff’s office. He watched her turn and head toward the hallway and the guestroom bath. She didn’t look back.
Colt stood there a moment longer, listening to the quiet. Then he grabbed clean clothes and went to his own bathroom.
He kept the shower quick. The hot water eased the tight pull in his shoulders, but it didn’t wash away the image of Brenna, naked and slick with steam, just up the hall.
His body might be exhausted, but he still ached for her.
He dried off, pulled on the clean clothes, and grabbed his phone from the nightstand when a new text from Noah lit the screen.
Jared’s uncle bought components used in the bombs. We’re trying to match them to the ones at the water tower and the cave.
Colt read it twice, pressure building in his chest. It was something. Maybe enough to move the investigation forward. Maybe even to pin at least some of this on Jared and Raymond Fitch.
He headed down the hall. The guestroom door stood open, so he knocked lightly and stepped inside. The sound of the shower still ran. Brenna hadn’t come out yet. He hovered for a moment, then sat on the edge of the bed to wait.
Colt typed out a reply to Noah’s message. Keep me posted. His fingers hovered over the screen a second longer, then he added another. Any word from CSIs? Anything that points to who killed Raymond and Jared?
The answer came fast. Nothing yet. We’ve got a team combing the area, but so far it’s clean. No prints. No DNA.
Another message followed.
Naomi and Gary have no alibis for either murder. Wallace does, but only because he was still under guard at the hospital.
Colt stared at the screen. Wallace being watched didn’t clear him. Not completely. He could have hired someone. Paid them to do his dirty work. That kind of thing didn’t need a personal touch.
Just motive, money, and a phone call.
Brenna stepped out of the guest bathroom, steam curling behind her like fog. She wore one of those soft sleep T-shirts that barely skimmed her thighs. Her damp hair clung to her shoulders, and she looked relaxed, freshly scrubbed.
Colt’s breath stalled in his lungs. The sight of her stirred the heat in his blood. Exhausted or not, his body responded fast.
She met his gaze, brow creased slightly. “Something wrong?” She nodded toward the phone still in his hand.
Colt blinked, shook himself out of the haze clouding his brain. “No,” he said, voice low.
He quickly typed out a message to Noah. Thanks for the update.
Then he stood and crossed to Brenna, handing her the phone. “Here. You should see this.”
Brenna scrolled through the messages, her expression tight.
“This doesn’t clear Wallace,” she said, repeating exactly what Colt had been thinking. “He could have hired someone to do it and stayed out of the blast zone.”
Colt nodded. “Exactly.”
She handed the phone back, eyes sharp. “So all three are still on the list. Wallace. Gary. Naomi.”
Colt slipped the phone into his pocket. “Naomi might have been cleaning house. Killing Jared and his uncle to cover her tracks.”
“Yeah,” Brenna said. “Especially if they knew something that could take her down.”
Their eyes met again. The air between them was thick, buzzing with everything unsaid. Not just the case. Not just the danger. But them. All of it, still hanging there.
Colt took the phone from her, his fingers brushing against hers. The touch was light, but the heat that followed wasn’t. It rolled through him hard and fast, settling low in his gut. He met her gaze, already thinking about kissing her, already feeling the pull.
Before he could act on it, she stepped in and kissed him.
Her lips were soft, sure, like she’d been thinking about it too. The kiss wasn’t rushed, wasn’t frantic. It was slow, warm, and deepened by everything they’d survived, everything they still carried.
She slid her hands up his chest, and Colt’s heart thudded against her palms. His hand cupped the side of her face, angling her just right as he kissed her back, letting go of caution, of second-guessing.
Her body pressed close. His ached from the bruises and from wanting her. Nothing else existed. Not Wallace. Not Naomi. Not Gary.
Just Brenna.
And the heat building between them.
Her mouth opened under his, and Colt deepened the kiss, need rolling through him in sharp waves. The slow heat turned urgent. He pressed her back gently until the backs of her legs touched the bed, then leaned in, his mouth never leaving hers.
He kissed down her jaw, down the smooth column of her neck, feeling her pulse flutter against his lips. Her breath caught, and that sound, soft and wanting, ripped right through him.
Colt slid one hand between them, brushing his thumb over her breast through the thin fabric of her T-shirt. She gasped, her back arching into his touch. His name fell from her lips, and it undid him.
Her hands moved over his back, sliding under his shirt, fingers warm and insistent. She pulled him closer, closer still, until there was no space left between them. Her body was soft, warm, alive beneath his. And he wanted her more than his next breath.
Colt eased back just enough to look at her, his hand still resting on her waist. Her lips were flushed, her eyes dark with heat. His pulse pounded.
“You sure about this?” he asked, voice low.
“Yes,” she said without hesitation. Then she reached for him, pulling him back in, her mouth finding his in a kiss that left no room for doubt.
Colt cupped her face, kissing her deeper. He was careful, knowing her knee still ached, and every breath reminded him of his ribs, but none of it mattered. Not with her in his arms, her hands roaming his back, her body arching against his.
They moved together, slow and deliberate, until the bed was behind them. The heat between them built, and Colt knew exactly where this was headed. He didn’t stop it. He didn’t want to.
Colt eased her back on the bed, his body following hers. The mattress dipped under their weight, and the heat between them only grew. He kissed her again, slow and deep, his hand slipping beneath the hem of her T-shirt.
She arched into him, her breath catching as he pulled the shirt over her head. No bra. Just her.
He took a moment to look at her, to take in every inch of soft, bare skin. Then he kissed her again. Her lips. Her neck. Her breasts. Lower.
She gasped when his mouth reached her stomach, her fingers digging into his shoulders.
When he kissed her center, her whole body responded. She made a soft, urgent sound and reached for him, pulling at his shirt, his belt. The need between them sharpened.
They were past the point of holding back.
Her hands were on him, warm and sure, stripping away the last of his clothes. Colt helped her, needing her the way he needed air.
But then she paused. Her gaze dropped to the bruising along his ribs, her fingers brushing there like she could take the pain away.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” she murmured.
“I don’t want to hurt you either,” he said, voice rough.
So he shifted, leaning back against the headboard and guiding her onto his lap.
Brenna settled there, her knees bracketing his thighs. The move brought their bodies flush, and a shudder worked through him. She was all soft heat and steady purpose, and when her hands slid into his hair and her mouth found his again, he stopped thinking altogether.
She was in control now, and he wanted every second of it.
Colt reached for his jeans, still draped over the edge of the bed, and pulled his wallet free. He found the condom tucked inside and tore it open, his breath uneven as he rolled it on.
Brenna’s eyes locked with his. Her hands were on his shoulders, her body warm against his. She leaned in and kissed him again, deep and slow, until they were both trembling.
She moved with him, guiding them both into a rhythm that built fast. Her fingers curled into his skin, her mouth brushing his cheek, then his neck, then back to his lips. Every brush, every breath, made the tension climb.
Colt cupped her hips and met her movements, the heat between them pushing everything else away.
When her body tightened around his and she whispered his name, he held on, his grip firm but gentle.
The release hit them both hard.
Brenna collapsed against him, her cheek to his shoulder, breath catching in her throat. Colt wrapped his arms around her, heart pounding, and held her close.
He wasn’t ready to let go. Not now. Maybe not ever.
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