Just when I’d gotten them to stop fucking calling me that stupid name, too.
She flinched at the sound of his voice, “I—I didn’t?—”
“Easy.” He stopped about ten feet from here. “Nobody’s going to hurt you. You’re at Stronghold Ranch. Was this where you were aiming for, or did you take a wrong turn somewhere?” He didn’tthink that was the case, but for some reason, he wanted to give her an out.
Next, I’ll be inviting her up to the house for fucking tea.
Maybe I should just change my damn call sign to Prince Fuckin Charming.
Her chest hitched, “I wasn’t—didn’t mean to?—”
Gael shifted beside him, the gravel crunching faintly under his boot, but Rowan cut him off with a single, sharp gesture.
Stay back.
Enya’s gaze darted between them, pupils blown wide, swallowing the pale blue of her irises. She looked like she hadn’t slept in days, and her clothes hung off her as if she hadn’t seen a decent meal since he’d brought her home from Colombia. “I just—” Her voice broke again, thinner this time. “Rain’s here. I didn’t know where else to go.”
Damn.
That this traumatized woman didn’t know where else to go, but trusted him enough to come here, did something weird to his heart. Rowan ignored it and carefully moved closer to her. “He’s safe. We have him in one of the stallion pens at the barn.”
She swallowed hard, her throat working against the words. “I… can I see him?”
“Hey.” Rowan softened his voice. “Why don’t you come on up to the house, and you can see him in the morning. If we go to the barn right now, every horse is going to be looking for breakfast, and that would piss off Hal, our barn manager.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re okay. No one’s hurt. No one’s mad.”
A broken laugh escaped her, bitter and disbelieving. “Yeah, right.”
He was close enough to see the tremor in her hands and the way her breath came too fast and shallow. “You climbed our gate, didn’t you?”
Her chin jerked in a tight, almost imperceptible nod.
“Hurt?”
She hesitated, her gaze flickering to the ground before meeting his again. Then she whispered, “I twisted my ankle on the way down.”
Rowan exhaled, slow and controlled, the breath curling in the cold air. Of course, she had. “Then let’s get you inside so I can look at it and strap it up for you.”
The night seemed to hold its breath with them, the only sound the distant call of a nightbird and the faint rustle of the team adjusting their positions in the dark. Then her shoulders sagged slightly as if the fight leaked out of her.
Rowan closed the last stretch between them, “Come on.” He reached for her elbow, his grip gentle but firm, giving her the option to pull away if she needed to. “Before Gael starts whining about his beauty sleep.”
Behind them, the team melted back into the dark, their silhouettes blending into the night as seamlessly as they’d disappeared. Only Gael lingered, watching them with his arms crossed over his chest, his expression unreadable in the dim light. He shook his head once, muttering under his breath,“Jesus, Rowan,” before turning toward the house. No doubt he was going to call his man to tell him the whole story.
Half of the spec ops world will know I’ve gone soft by fucking dawn.
Enya’s weight leaned into his side as he guided her forward. Her limp was subtle, but he felt it in the way her steps were off-kilter and the way her breath hitched with each one they took, followed by a quiet hiss of pain she wasn’t quite able to hide. If he didn’t think she’d have a complete meltdown, he would carry her to the house.
Finally, they made it to the house. He adjusted his grip, steadying her as they crossed the threshold into the kitchen. The scent of fresh coffee greeted them, but there was no sign of Gael, the dogs, or the damn cat. The floorboards creaked under their weight, the sound swallowed by the hum of the refrigerator and the distant tick of the grandfather clock in the hall.
“Have a seat. You want some water or some coffee while I go grab the med kit from the bathroom?”
Enya’s fingers curled into the fabric of his sleeve, just lightly, as if she wasn’t entirely sure she was allowed to hold on. Rowan didn’t shake her off as he led her toward the table, where the overhead light cast long shadows. He pulled out a chair and guided her into it with a hand on her shoulder.
Rowan crouched beside her, just low enough to meet her eyes. “You want to tell me what happened?”
