There.
It was soft. An almost indiscernible rustling of leaves, but Trace had heard it.
Turning his focus on a cluster of trees to his right, he saw something move. Or rather, someone.
Through the thin slits between the trees, he could see a figure standing behind them. It was the shooter. It had to be.
With a tight grip on his weapon, he and the others silently made their way in that direction. When he noticed the figure shift to the left, his gut was screaming that the person, whoever it was, was about to make their move.
Keeping their guns pointed at those trees, all five men slid their trigger fingers down, so they’d be ready. What happened in the next breath would be a scene Trace would replay over and over in his mind for years to come.
Everything happened at once.
A person shot out from behind the trees. They pointed their weapon at the group, and Trace screamed at the shooter to stand down.
Because the shooter wasn’t a tango working for Sadiq Khaled. It was Emma.
“Emma, don’t!” He shouted as he dropped his weapon and put his hands up. “Baby, it’s us!”
Wild, confused eyes stared back at them, but miraculously, she didn’t pull the trigger.
She also didn’t drop the gun.
“Emma, honey, it’s me,” her brother used a calm, non-threatening tone. “It’s Sean.”
“Sean?” Emma blinked as if she didn’t trust what her eyes were seeing.
“Yeah, Ems. It’s me. You’re okay, now. We’re all here to take you home.” When she still didn’t drop the weapon right away, Coop pointed to him and added, “See? Trace is here, too.”
Giving him a nod, the other man encouraged Trace to step back in to help.
Trusting her not to shoot—even in her state of confusion—he slowly began to approach her.
“Emma, I know you’re scared, but you’re safe now. We’re here, and we’re not going to let anything happen to you.”
As he continued closer, Trace did a quick assessment of her physical state.
She was still dressed in the same jeans and t-shirt she’d thrown on at the cabin, right before all hell broke loose. Her hair was matted with dirt and dried blood, one half of her bottom lip was swollen and split, and there were bruises covering her gorgeous face.
The sight broke his heart into a million pieces. It also made him want to kill.
Put that shit away, Winters. She needs you calm and caring. Not erupting in a murderous rage.
“Come on, baby.” Trace took another step closer. “Drop the gun so we can go home.”
“Home?” A tear fell down her cheek.
“Home.” He nodded. “Either Dallas or Richmond, I don’t care. I just want to take you away from here where we can relive the days we had together at the cabin.”
Recognition flickered behind her hazel eyes. “The cabin.”
That’s it, baby. Remember us.
“I want to take care of you. I want to laugh with you and make love to you...just like we did when we were there.”
Those memories he held so dear broke through, and Emma slowly lowered the gun to her side. Letting it fall from her hands onto the ground below, her watery gaze filled with hope met his.
“Trace?”