And, with a heavy heart, I do just that.
18
CARTER
“Sleep well?” Broadway smirks over the rim of his coffee cup as I descend the stairs shortly after six in the morning.
Whipping my neck left and right, I gouge my fingers into the knotted muscles at the nape, working out the tension the hot shower didn’t ease.
“Could’ve been better,” I admit, snatching a cup of coffee from the counter. “Anything to report?”
He shakes his head, pushing another cup under the machine’s nozzle for Koby or Ryder, whoever is in the control room.
“Too much. We poked the hornets’ nest last night. Rhett called Dante, demanding to know where we’ve gone to ground. Blaze is counting bodies, but you know he’ll be coming after us, too. And Vaughn’s been pestering Jeremy all night for updates.”
Both Vaughn and Rhett have been blowing up my phone, but they’ll have to wait for updates. I’m still reeling from the raid, and there’s more Hailey and I need to work through.
Broadway sets another cup on the counter. His head whips up, eyes on my shoulder like he just remembered I was shot and wants to check I didn’t tear my stitches overnight.
“I’m fine,” I say.
“Should I get a coffee ready for Hailey? Is she up yet?”
“I don’t think so. She’ll probably sleep most of the day. I doubt she slept much at Noretto’s.”
The distinct click of opening doors grabs our attention as Ryder emerges from the control room, stalking across the living room into the open plan kitchen, eyes on the prize. It’s not until he has a cup in hand, inhaling the coffee’s bitter aroma, that he acknowledges us with a simple nod.
“Someone should go shopping,” he mumbles, opening the fridge. “All we’ve got here are gas-station sandwiches.”
“No way I’m eating another one of those.” Broadway pulls a disgusted face, marching toward the door.
“Don’t take the Range Rover,” I tell him. “There’s a collection of American muscle and bikes in the garage. Take your pick and use the back roads.”
“What should I get for Hailey? What does she eat?”
“BLTs are her favorite. She likes waffles, French toast, bacon, and apples. Take Ryder with you and stock up. I have a feeling we’ll be here a while.”
They both nod, grinning like kids as they turn their backs on me, heading for the garage. Left alone, I enter the control room. A Mustang and a Kawasaki show up on the driveway camera feed a minute later. We’ve been at the safe house barely twelve hours, but Broadway’s taking no chances, hence the two-vehicle setup. They make a U-turn around the Range Rover, sneaking out the back way down a dusty track.
The cameras upstairs are off as per my instruction. Not for long. I check every feed, switching them on and off until I find Hailey’s bedroom.
Every tense muscle in my body unwinds when her sleeping form appears on the screen. A veil of blonde hair is scattered across one pillow, her face nuzzled into another, nothing south of her chin visible. She’s curled into a ball under the comforter, every breath steady, eyes closed.
God, she’s gorgeous. My kind of perfect. Including the scars she’s finally learned to love. There’s not a thing I’d change about this girl. Not one thing I don’t find alluring. The cupid bow of her upper lip, her button nose, long eyelashes... even the small frown crinkling her forehead.
Perfect.
While watching her sleep, I call Dante, and—reluctantly—Vaughn, letting him know his daughter’s safe.
It takes an hour before she wakes, and five minutes later, she leaves her sheets a tangled mess in the middle of the bed. With two coffees, I head upstairs, entering her bedroom just as she exits the en suite. She’s still wearing the spaghetti-strapped night dress, my hoodie hanging over the back of the desk chair, her bruises on display.
“How did you sleep?” I ask, setting the cups down.
“I would’ve slept better with you.”
“Don’t test me, Hailey. There’s nothing I want more, but you know why I can’t. Broadway and Ryder won’t be back with breakfast for a while, so how about you tell me about the bruises?”
“Will you tell your men about it?”
