14
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Standing at the door to the master bedroom, Lynx watched Reagan sleep. He had no idea how long he’d been standing there, observing the rise and fall of her chest beneath the blankets. He simply couldn’t look away. Seeing her in his bed, healthy, strong … alive. His damn heart jolted every fucking time he thought about what had happened tonight. How easily she could’ve been ripped from his life.
And every damn time he thought about it, he wanted to put his fist through the wall.
A lot of people accused him of being angry, always looking for a fight. Honestly, that wasn’t the case at all. In fact, he considered himself pretty happy-go-lucky most of the time.
Oh, sure, when his mother died, Lynx had been pissed at the world. Who could blame him, though? The most important woman in his life had been taken from him and his father long before she should have been. His heart had been fractured that day. Over the years, as the minutes and the hours passed, the pain lessened, but his heart still had the fissures in it. Always would.
No one knew that Reagan Trevino was the main reason he had held on. Without knowing, Lynx had fallen in love with that girl. Even back then.
Only she’d never been his to have, and spending the past decade watching as she grew up, her life entwined with that son of a bitch had been too much to bear. Ultimately, he’d tried to repair himself with various women. It had never worked.
And now Reagan was right there in his bed.
Only she wasn’t his for the taking now, either.
“Lynx?”
“What, darlin’?” he asked, not moving from his spot at the door.
“You okay?”
“Perfect,” he answered.
She rolled over, clutching the pillow. “Would you … maybe … hold me for a little while?”
“Sure.” He wasn’t sure that was the best idea in the world, but it wasn’t like he would tell her no, so trying to pretend otherwise was just a waste of time.
He walked around to the far side of the bed and climbed on top of the quilt. He was still fully dressed, except for his boots, and he was grateful for that. Even with the blanket between them, Lynx wasn’t sure it would be enough.
Reagan rolled toward him and Lynx froze. She quickly pushed the comforter down to her waist and snuggled up to his side, her hand resting on his chest, her head pressed against his shoulder. He took a deep breath and closed his arm around her. She smelled like his shampoo from when she’d taken a shower earlier. He remembered standing in the kitchen, as far from the bathroom as he could possibly get and still be inside the house, not wanting to hear the shower run, not wanting to think about Reagan naked in his bathroom, the water sliding down her smooth, perfect…
Yeah. Still not helping to think about it.
“About yesterday mornin’,” she whispered softly, pulling him back from the brink.
“Don’t,” he warned, keeping his tone as gentle as he could.
“I’m sorry.”
“Reagan.”
“I never meant to hurt you,” she continued as though he hadn’t said a word.
Rather than lie and tell her she hadn’t hurt him, Lynx kept his mouth shut and stared up at the ceiling. “Go to sleep.”
She sighed, moving closer to him. “It’s true, Lynx. I never meant—”
“Not tonight,” he said roughly. “We’ll talk about it … later.”
She sighed again and he waited for her rebuttal.
Thankfully, it never came.
Lynx’s entire body had gone rock hard the instant she touched him. He should’ve stayed in the living room or gone to sleep in the guest room like he’d originally told her he would when he insisted that she take his king bed.
Instead, he was lying here with Reagan beside him, her body so fucking soft against him, her hair teasing his chin where it caught in the stubble on his jaw. And his dick was throbbing, making his damn jeans ridiculously uncomfortable.
Yet this was enough for him. Having Reagan here, knowing she was safe.
It was enough.
A few minutes passed before her breathing evened out. Lynx knew sleep would be a long time coming for him. He’d been asleep when Rhys called, so he was good to go for a while. Plus, he was too fucking scared to close his eyes. He didn’t want to drift off, to dream about what had happened, for his stupid subconscious to come up with an alternate ending.
So, for now, he would hold Reagan, pretend that this was his life, that he had the pleasure of holding her every night when they went to sleep, to wake up to her beside him every morning.
After all, it wasn’t a far cry from the fantasies he’d had for the past decade.
In fact, it was the exact fantasy he’d had for the past decade.
Rhys stood in the parking lot of his sister’s bar. Well, what used to be her bar. Now it was nothing more than charred remains in the middle of the parking lot. Every single thing was gone, nothing salvageable with the exception of the fire-proof safe that had been in the wall in her office. Sure, it had melted somewhat, but it was still intact.
“We need to bring Billy Watson in for questioning,” Dean said from beside him. “And this guy she said hit on her tonight.”
Rhys knew that neither of those men were responsible for this. Sure, Billy Watson was an asshole, but he wasn’t so much of one that he would try to kill three people. As for the other guy … Rhys didn’t know him, but he seriously doubted being turned down by a woman would have him rigging the propane tank to blow.
However, it wasn’t like he could tell Dean that the top suspect was the fucking Houston police chief. Kelly Jackson. A goddamn psychopath who was hell-bent on destroying Amy and anyone else who got in his way.
Turning to Dean, Rhys nodded. “Do that. Bring them in first thing in the morning.”
While Dean questioned them, Rhys would be checking in with Ryan Trexler and Zachariah Tavoularis. They’d be able to get him some real answers.
And if they were all lucky, they’d soon have Kelly Jackson’s head on a fucking platter.
“Where’s Rhys?” Amy asked as soon as Wolfe stepped into the bedroom.
“He’ll be here in a bit,” Wolfe told her. “I’ll wait up for him, I promise. But you need to sleep.”
Wolfe was pretty sure he’d said that at least a dozen times since they got back to the house.
“I can’t sleep,” she said, her tone soft.
She sounded exhausted and Wolfe imagined she was. It had been a rather eventful night. His entire world had come crashing down when the bar exploded. His only thought had been keeping Amy safe. And he’d thought his world had ended when he found Amy crumpled on the floor unconscious. Thank God Reagan had some sense to get that damn shotgun, because Wolfe’s brain had gone offline, a blinding rage having taken over, making it impossible to think when the only thing he wanted to do was kill that bastard with his bare fucking hands.
Knowing Amy wasn’t going to give in to sleep until Rhys was back, Wolfe shot him a quick text, stripped his clothes off, and crawled into bed with the woman he loved.
“Come here, darlin’,” he whispered, pulling her to him.
When she settled against his side, her head on his chest, Wolfe wrapped his arms tightly around her.
“I love you,” he whispered in the dark.
“I love you, too. So much. I’m so sorry th—”
“Shh, baby.” Pressing his lips to her forehead, he tightened his hold. “Don’t apologize for anything. We’ll stop him, I promise you that.”
“How?”
“Trust me.” Wolfe didn’t have a plan yet, but he’d already put in a call to his cousin. Travis told him to give him until morning and he’d have something set up. It was time to put a stop to this bullshit once and for all. And if Travis couldn’t help, then Wolfe would get Lynx and they’d come up with something.
“Do you think Reagan’s all right?” Amy asked.
“I texted Lynx earlier. He said she was sleepin’. I’m sure she’s fine.”
“But her bar…” Amy’s arm tightened across his chest.
“We’ll rebuild it,” he assured her. “That’s what we do.”
“I just can’t believe he would do that.” The pain in her voice was so powerful Wolfe wanted to erase it completely.
“He’s crazy,” Wolfe told her. That was the understatement of the fucking century.
“I want to talk to that reporter tomorrow,” she whispered, her words slurring with her exhaustion.
“We’ll talk about it in the mornin’.” He kissed her forehead again. “But right now I want you to sleep.”
Kelly sat at the small desk in his hotel room, his laptop in front of him. He searched the Internet for information on the fire. He knew the damn place had blown because he’d been there to see it.
Well, not right there, but he’d been a mile out and there had been no mistaking the solid boom that had shaken the earth and the fireball that had shot into the sky. It had taken every ounce of his honed patience not to turn around so he could watch the place burn. Instead, he’d had to imagine Amy burning to death inside, those stupid fucks she worked for going with her.
So far, he hadn’t found anything, but he knew it would come.
And this headache would be over once and for all.
Travis Walker sat on the front porch, staring out at the darkness. It was late, but he couldn’t sleep. They’d put the kids to bed hours ago and he probably would’ve been out like a light if Wolfe hadn’t called and given him the news about the explosion at the bar. Now, his brain wouldn’t shut off. Travis was the take-charge kind and sitting on his ass wasn’t working for him.
Only he didn’t have many options at the moment.
The screen door squeaked behind him.
“Hey, you all right?” Kylie asked, coming closer.
He reached for his wife, pulling her into his lap. “Better now,” he said, pressing his face into her neck, breathing her in. She smelled like baby shampoo, probably from when she’d bathed the kids earlier. He loved that smell.
“Gage is still on the phone,” she said softly.
Travis nodded but didn’t lift his head. He knew Gage was on the phone, knew he was working his contacts, wanting to control any news reports that went out on the explosion that had burned that little bar to the ground. Their goal was to buy themselves a little time, to announce that there had been casualties, however, ensuring the reporters were told the bodies would take time to identify. That would allow them the opportunity to put a plan in place.
Sure, that crazy fucker might know otherwise, but he wouldn’t know that no one had been killed in the blast. Thank the Lord.
As soon as the call had come in, as soon as he’d heard Wolfe’s voice, Travis had known the shit had finally hit the fan. Not long after that, more calls had come in. One from RT, another from one of the security agents who was working the case, both telling him the details of what had gone down.
The good news was, this guy was on a short timeline. The bad news was that they weren’t doing enough to stop him. No way should that bastard have been able to get close enough to set an explosive on a goddamn building in the middle of town. It pissed Travis off that they’d let his cousin down, that some good people had nearly died tonight because they’d mistakenly believed they had some time.
The screen door squeaked again.
“Yes, that’s right. And Reese, Travis, and I will be headed that way first thing in the mornin’. I’ll need you to manage the resort while we’re out. We’re gonna meet with Max’s sister…” Pause. “Yeah, the one in law school… She’s on her way down as we speak.” Pause. “No, I don’t know what his plan is, but it’s more than we’ve got, so we’re goin’ with it.”
Travis lifted his head, staring up at his husband. Gage merely nodded when their eyes met.
“Yep, this bastard’s goin’ down,” Gage said gruffly. “Thanks. And let me know how things go.”
When Gage hung up the phone, he took a breath and Travis waited.
“Everything’s in place.” Gage sighed. “Not sure how happy I am that you’ve got mob ties, but … whatever.”
Travis smiled. It was good to have friends. Didn’t matter if they were in low places or not. It still helped.