“You go. I need to confirm the kills first. Don’t suppose you have a tarp?” He’s tense—he will be until he knows without a doubt none of the men are getting back up again. And that there aren’t any more of them.
“In the shed.” I point to the small outbuilding at the edge of the clearing, then guide Hope back to the cabin. Blood still drips from my fingers, and if I don’t sit down soon, I’ll fall down. But I don’t give a shit how much it hurts. We’re safe—for now—and that’s all that matters.
That and telling Hope that I don’t want to let her go. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work. If she’ll have me.
“They found us,” she murmurs—almost to herself. “You said…”
“Wren can control satellite scans. Not some stupid motherfucker with a drone. I can’t believe I didn’t hear it. Must have been a damn good one.”
I sink onto the couch, grunting as the movement pulls at the fresh bullet wound. The sound snaps Hope out of her daze, and she sucks in a sharp breath. “Where’s your first aid kit?”
“Leave it, darlin’. I’ll be fine. I’d rather just hold you right now.”
“Bullshit,” she mutters. “You’re bleeding all over the place.”
I peer down at my arm and snort. “This is nothing. Been through worse. Come here.”
Hope wraps her arms around my waist and nestles her cheek against my neck. I’m tired. Tired and sore and mad as hell. Those fuckers were in my cabin. They threatened my dog—and the woman I’m falling in love with.
Holy shit.
The realization hits me so hard, it steals my breath. I don’t just care for this woman. I’m falling for her. Hard and fast and forever. Why didn’t I see it before? I knew I didn’t want to let her go. But love? I can’t love her. Can I?
“Wyatt? Oh, God. Are you still with me?” Hope frames my face with her hands, and I blink hard until I can focus. “You need a doctor.”
“I need you. Hope, I thought I could let you go—”
The back door closes with a bang. West trudges over to the kitchen sink and turns the faucet on full blast. “You’re lucky I had the M4 in the truck,” he says as he starts scrubbing his hands. “My Glock wouldn’t have done shit from that far away.”
“Lucky? You’re like a fucking Boy Scout, West. Always prepared for anything.”
He chuckles, but sobers almost immediately once he glances over at me. “Just had to get yourself shot, didn’t you? Towels in the bathroom? I’ll stitch you up.”
Hope’s eyes widen. “He needs a hospital.”
“West is a field medic, darlin’. And hospitals ask too many questions. I’ll be fine. If the bullet had hit an artery, I’d be dead already.” It’s the wrong thing to say by a thousand miles, and I’d kick myself if I had the energy. Instead, I squeeze her tighter and pray I’ll find the strength to tell her how I feel.
Twenty minutes—and a shot of bourbon—later, I pull on a clean shirt, careful not to tear the fresh stitches in my shoulder. Hope is tucked under a blanket on the couch with Murphy lying across her lap.
“Mind if I borrow your ATV?” West asks, leaning against the bedroom door jamb. “My truck won’t handle this terrain, and I’m sure as shit not lugging those bodies up to the road one at a time.”
“Keys are on the peg by the door.” My duffel bag lands on the bed, and West arches his brows. “Don’t,” I warn. “Don’t say a goddamn word. She still thinks she’s leaving without me.”
Ambling over to my dresser, West picks up the framed photo of our Trident ceremony. “We’re the only two left.”
“No shit.” I regret my words almost immediately. Eight men in the picture, and three of them died when West and his team were ambushed outside of Kabul years ago. “Sorry. I’m an ass.”
With a shrug, West passes me the frame. “Living alone will do that to you.”
“I was an ass before I moved up here. You know that.” Dumping a bunch of socks and briefs into the duffel bag, I head for my closet. We’re not staying here a minute longer than we have to. Thank fuck I don’t need more than a few pairs of jeans and half a dozen flannel shirts. “Get the bodies to your truck. I’ll talk to Hope. And warn Ryker, will you? Because if he gives me shit for coming back to the city, I won’t be responsible for my actions.”
West chuckles. “Good luck with that, man. You punch Ry, he’s gonna knock you into next week. But don’t worry. We’ll keep Hope safe until you regain consciousness.”
“Fucker,” I say under my breath. “Go. I want to be on our way to Seattle within the hour.”
Hope
The jangling of keys draws my gaze from the waning fire in the woodstove. West hoists his pack on one shoulder, and I sit up straighter. “You’re leaving?”
