“Not yet. Just gotta load the bodies into my truck. I’ll be back in half an hour. Maybe less.” West’s slight accent—something southern—is oddly reassuring, except that he’s talking about five dead men like they’re a load of topsoil.
“You’re…taking them?” I don’t know why I’m surprised. Except I thought the police would be involved. Until I realize that West and Wyatt would probably be arrested for murder. And I’d be to blame. “I’m sorry, I just…”
I can feel the blood draining from my cheeks, and West drops his pack. Before I know what’s happening, he’s holding my hand and rubbing slow circles on the inside of my wrist. “Count to ten, Hope. Focus on my voice and count with me. One…”
I can’t. Murphy whines and presses his nose to my neck. I’d hold him. If I could move.
“Wyatt! Get out here,” West calls. He drops my hand and, seconds later, Wyatt pulls me against him.
“I’ve got you, darlin’. Breathe.” His deep voice rumbles through me, his scent calming me in a way nothing else can. It takes several moments, but the darkness threatening my vision fades. My heart no longer feels like it’s about to explode. If only I could stop shaking.
“I’m okay,” I manage.
“You’re not. Don’t lie to me.” Coming from anyone else, those words would terrify me. But from Wyatt, they’re reassuring. He’ll protect me until his last breath. As long as we’re together, anyway. “Look at me. Please?”
With a shuddering sigh, I draw back to meet his gaze. “When Brix doesn’t check in, Simon will send another team. A bigger one. You can’t fight them alone—”
He cracks a weary smile. “Not planning on it. West’s team will take care of everything. This is what they do.”
“I thought you said there were only five of them?” I don’t understand how he’s so calm. Or how I’m supposed to leave him in an hour. I’ll never see him again. “Simon has dozens of guys. Hell, he probably has hundreds! You’re all alone up here.”
“Not staying up here. I’m going to Seattle with you.”
He says it so matter-of-factly, I think he has to be joking. But there’s no humor in his eyes. “Wyatt, you hate the city.” I can’t begin to explain how much I want him to come, but there’s no way I’ll ask him to leave the one place he feels at home.
“Not as much as I care—fuck it—not as much as I think I could love you, Hope.”
Shock steals my next words. “You think…?”
The kiss is hard and fast and everything I’ve ever wanted. Possessive, yet tender. Passionate, but almost gentle by the end. And when our lips part, he cups my cheek, his thumb skating lightly over my skin. “It’s too soon. I know it is. I don’t care. I don’t want to lose you,” he says, his voice rough. “But you have to tell me what you want. If you’re not okay with me going with you, I’ll find a place in Seattle on my own. I’ll get a cell phone so you can contact me. In case you ever decide—”
I throw my arms around him, then quickly adjust when I catch his shoulder and he grunts. “I don’t want to go anywhere without you. Whatever happens next, I need you with me. The rest we’ll figure out as we go.”
Wyatt
Murphy snores from the second row of seats in West’s truck. Hope is tucked in the crook of my arm. She fell asleep not more than ten minutes after the two-mile hike from my cabin to the highway. I hate leaving the place—especially since this Simon fuckwad knows where I live. But it’s the only way to keep her safe, and that’s all that matters to me.
“Coffee?” West asks when I stifle my yawn. He gestures to a couple of thermoses in the center console. “Help yourself.”
“You’re a life saver.” After a long swig, I stifle a moan. “Holy fuck. Instant coffee is shit compared to this.”
He laughs, then slaps his hand over his mouth and glances at Hope.
“She’s not a light sleeper,” I say quietly. “At least, I don’t think so.”
With a quick check of the mirrors, West merges onto Interstate 90. “Exactly how long have you known this woman, anyway?”
“Forty-one hours.” At his arched brows, I tighten my arm around her. “Don’t look at me like that. When you know, you know.”
The man chokes down a swig of coffee. “When you know, you know? Are you telling me you’re in love with her after forty-one hours?”
“Maybe. Haven’t figured that part out yet. I think I could be heading there.”
“Damn.”
Hope shifts against me, and her eyelids flutter open. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing, darlin’. You fell asleep. We still have another two hours before we get to Seattle.” I press a kiss to her temple and hope she’ll rest more, but instead, she sits up, her gaze zeroing in on the thermos.
