The gun kicked in Helene’s hand, the sound tearing through Amka’s skull.She flinched, breath caught in her throat, waiting for the impact?—
It never came.
The front door exploded inward.
Christian.
He didn’t pause.Didn’t shout.Just moved, fast and precise and kicked the gun out of Helene’s hand.Tika hit the woman, snarling, his massive body slamming into her side.She screamed and went down hard with the wolf-pup pouncing on top of her chest, his teeth bared.
Amka pushed herself upright, breath scraping raw in her throat.Her cheek stung.Her wrists burned.Everything inside her shook, but she was still here.Still breathing.Her hands were still tied, but she dragged herself back, wedging into the space between the ratty couch and the coffee table.“Christian?”He was standing?There?How?
Tires shrieked outside.More boots.More noise.It barely registered.
Christian reached her, crouching.“Amka?Talk to me.”
Even now, he was giving orders.
Brock stormed in, gun drawn, eyes wild.“Clear?”
Christian didn’t look up.“Got her,” he said, voice all steel.
Brock’s gaze swept the room, locking on Amka for a half second.His jaw ticked.He didn’t speak again, just moved toward Helene.
Damian slid in behind him, along with Ace.
Amka finally sagged, her body trying to melt into the floor.“How did you find me?”Her shoulders ached from where Helene had sat on her, and the rope at her wrists had rubbed her raw.
“Tracked you.Tika and me.”
Oh yeah.He could track anybody.Her face throbbed from the last punch, but everything still worked.Mostly.
Christian leaned in closer, those dual-colored eyes concerned.“Baby?Tell me you’re okay.”
Baby.He’d called her that before.She smiled.
Panic sizzled across his face.He dropped beside her and took her face in his hands like he was afraid to break her.“I’ve got you.You’re okay now.”His voice was rough.Warmer than anything she’d ever heard.
She couldn’t see well.“Weren’t we just in this situation?Seriously?”She was so over explosions and people pointing guns at her.“I need a vacation.”
Something flickered in his eyes.Humor.Relief.Rage.She couldn’t name the sentiment.But the sight grounded her.Behind him, boots pounded again.Troopers shouting.Brock cuffed Helene as Ace watched dispassionately and Tika sat quietly to the side.
Where had Damian gone?
Amka swallowed down the lump in her throat.“I’m glad you’re here,” she whispered to Christian right before she passed out.
Cold.
Chapter39
Christian sat in the hospital chair, hard plastic digging into his back, his gut clenching.His hands were braced on his thighs, stiff from holding still too long, the wound in his shoulder screaming.Didn’t matter.He kept his eyes on Amka.
He almost lost her.Couldn’t lose her.Ever.
She was propped up in the hospital bed, bruised, stitched, and stubborn.An oxygen monitor clipped to her finger beeped steady and soft, almost in rhythm with the slight tremble in her hands.She kept her voice calm and even as she finished walking the troopers through the entire ordeal.Her tone didn’t shake, but her fingers did.
Doc May moved quietly behind her, checking vitals, peering at her pupils with a small light, the hem of her green scrubs looking worn over her white tennis shoes.Her blonde hair was piled up in what had probably started as a neat bun hours ago.She didn’t say much.Just nodded, made a note on a chart, moved to the next thing.Focused.Controlled.Probably pissed.
May hadn’t stopped glaring at Christian since she’d walked in and realized his shoulder was bleeding through the half-assed duct-tape job he’d done hours earlier.He hadn’t let her touch him.Not yet.Not until Amka was cleared.
