She inhaled, and her chest tightened as a wave of panic struck her. They’d been caught by Cameron, shot at, and in a car wreck. So far they’d been lucky, but six hours on the water? It wasn’t a risk she wanted to take.
Roarke’s arm slid around her back. She let her body lean into his side and her head rest on his shoulder. His hand cupped her waist, his fingers long and strong against her.
“I won’t let anything happen to you. Either of you.”
Emotion hit the back of her throat, but she forced it down. She couldn’t cry. Not in front of Emmy. She closed her eyes and tried to relax. She could feel Emmy’s curious eyes on her. She just needed a breath. Needed to feel Roarke’s strength to believe they’d survive.
“How’s your head?” he asked.
She brought her fingertips to the aching spot on her forehead. “Sore.”
He reached into his vest pocket. “I’ve got anti-inflammatories. Want a couple?”
“Sure. I have water in my bag.”
With Emmy on her lap, she couldn’t reach into the footwell for her tote. Roarke grabbed it and pulled it onto his knee. A moment later, she downed the over-the-counter meds, then offered Emmy some water.
“Mommy, I’m cold.”
“Okay, let’s get your sweater.” She shifted her daughter to the seat.
She removed Emmy’s heavy cardigan from the bag and helped her fit her arms through the sleeves. Then she took out a pair of sweatpants and pulled them over Emmy’s pajama pants.
She also removed the cardigan she’d packed for herself, as well as her hijab. She’d gotten good at wrapping the material, but the tight quarters made it hard.
“Let me see your head,” Roarke commanded. A small penlight clicked on.
She shifted to face him and her head spun with the movement. Pain spread through her face and skull.
Roarke’s hand was gentle on her neck. “Where’s it hurt the most?” His thumb smoothed over her cheekbone, just beneath where Cameron had struck her.
Anger flashed in his eyes. Hot and furious. His jaw was clenched, and the stubble that wrapped over his flesh made her palm tingle with the need to touch him.
“Laine,” he said, his voice tight and low.
She closed her eyes then opened them. “I’m okay,” she whispered. “Just a headache.”
He had a right to answers. But she had to be careful what she said in front of Emmy. Her daughter had already witnessed far too much. She wouldn’t scare her with details she could tell Roarke in private—if and when she got the chance.
His nostrils flared, but he gave a sharp nod. “I’m sorry.”
A chasm of sadness opened in her chest. She wanted to melt against him, just as she’d done the night he told her the news about Ollie. To let him carry her, help bear her pain.
But she had no right to any of that.
She forced a thin smile. “I don’t see how you can be sorry. You did nothing wrong. You came for us. And for that, I’m eternally grateful.”
His fingers flexed on her neck. “I’ll never let you go back.”
She rolled in her lips, wanting to promise that’d never happen, but she was acutely aware of Emmy’s little ears nearby. For Emmy’s safety, she couldn’t let Cameron near them again. But that didn’t make the situation any easier for her daughter.
Once, Cameron had loved them.
Or so they’d thought.
“Ten minutes out,” Striker said.
Roarke’s mouth flattened. He dipped his fingers into the front pocket on his vest again. “Let’s get this cleaned up.” He brushed aside the material of her hijab and shook an alcohol wipe from its package.
