Page 103 of Dark ’N’ Deadly

Something wet on her cheek—kisses? No, licking. Tiger.

Vaguely, she felt Eric pry her fingers from the gun. Strong arms came around her, lifting her in the air as if she were flying.

“It’s over,” he whispered against the top of her head, his chest shuddering beneath her cheek. “You’re safe.”

The last thing she was cognizant of was the unshakable belief that for the first time in her life, she was safe.

Finally.

Chapter Thirty-Two

When Eric pulled into his driveway again, it was ten o’clock the next morning. He and Dayne had stuck around to assist the bomb squad, answer questions, and update the brass for the multitude of press conferences that would be hitting the airwaves for days, weeks, probably months to come.

Crisis averted.

He shut off the engine and got a glimpse of his face in the rearview mirror. He looked like hell, and there wasn’t one square inch of his body or clothes that wasn’t covered with dirt and dust.

The revenge he’d been fueling for Harley Gant was nothing more than a memory, a puff of smoke after a giant bonfire had died down. His only regret was that he hadn’t been the one to pull the trigger.

He should have been exhausted. Instead, he was wired tighter than a wind-up toy. Not from caffeine, but from the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins at seeing Tess again. They were about to have “the talk” that hadn’t been possible until now, and he was scared shitless he’d fuck it up.

“Let’s go, buddy.” He popped Tiger’s door, expecting his K-9 to leap from the Interceptor and charge into the house for breakfast. Deep snores came from the kennel. Tiger was fast asleep, his snout between his paws, his chest expanding in slow, rhythmic motions.

Quietly, he reached for his bag then went outside. Not even his own door closing was enough to rouse his dog. The last twenty-four hours had been long and grueling, and Tiger hadn’t left his side once.

“Tiger.” He reached into the kennel and gently patted the dog’s rump.

Tiger’s head shot up, his breath coming in quick snorts as he leaped to his feet, spinning around in the kennel, then jumping from the SUV and galloping to the house.

Chuckling, Eric closed the kennel door then made his way between Nick’s and Kade’s SUVs. Tess probably wouldn’t be pleased with what he’d made his friends swear to.

He pushed open the front door to his house, letting Tiger trot in first. Saxon and Tango greeted his dog, sniffing and wagging their tails.

“Hey.” Nick rose from the sofa and fist-bumped him.

Kade did the same.

Not unexpectedly, Tess’s duffel sat on the floor beside the sofa.

“You’ve got your work cut out for you,” Kade said, sympathy evident in his hazel eyes. “She’s not happy.”

Nick grunted. “Understatement.”

“Where is she?” He set his gear bag on the floor, looking around the living room and the kitchen.

“Upstairs.” Nick sat on the arm of the sofa. “And she’s mad as hell. Like a powder keg ready to blow.”

Eric couldn’t keep the corners of his mouth from lifting. “Good. That means she’ll be okay.” Taking a life was never easy. Only a stone-cold killer could get away without any emotional scarring. Tess was anything but stone-cold.

“What’d the prosecutor say?” Kade asked.

“The shooting was justified, and she’s in the clear.” From going to prison, that was. There were still a lot of questions the prosecutor wanted answered about Gant, Pritchard, and the others.

Tiger yawned, then stalked to his bed in the living room, circled twice, and lay down with a groan. His K-9 was so beat he didn’t even want food.

“Am I under house arrest?” a frosty voice asked from the bottom of the stairs. Tess’s beautiful green eyes lasered into him like bolts of Kryptonite, then she narrowed those twin beams on Nick and Kade. “They refused to let me leave until you got home.”

From her frigid tone, her meaning was clear as a bell. His home. Not hers.