They turn and walk toward the treeline, four figures disappearing between the pines and melting into the shadows.
Beau watches them go, his weight shifted onto his good leg, somehow tracking them long after my eyes lose them in the dark.
“Thank fuck.” Van claps his shoulder once, hard, and limps back inside. “Let’s get out of here, okay?”
Beau nods but makes no move to follow him back indoors. Instead, he leans over and pulls the door closed, leaving us alone in the quiet parking lot. Despite knowing nothing happened to physically harm him, I can’t help checking him over oncemore. This man should be laid up in bed, resting, not out here mediating potential kidnappings.
But here he is, once again, putting himself between someone else and danger.
"Beau."
He stands straight, those dark chocolate eyes finding mine and staying there, waiting. I have a million questions, each more absurd sounding than the next. And yet somehow, as I replay the last few months in my mind, and all the things my grandmother told me as a young girl, I’m probably not as shocked as I should be.
"Just for a second, suppose this is true.” I wave a hand over my general stomach area, still unable to process the idea that there could be life in there. “And that Van’s right, that my body somehow held onto it… my egg and your… stuff… all this time." My hand rests against my belly, and Beau’s eyes lock onto the gesture, jaw tight, expression unreadable. "Why now? We've been at each other's throats for months. You hated me. I had strong feelings of… frustration toward you. I handcuffed you to a radiator this morning, for god’s sake, and we were in a shoot-out two hours ago. Why would my body picknow?"
Tears prick my eyes. This is a lot.
Am I really pregnant? Is this a cruel joke? Am I ridiculous for even entertaining the notion just because a man sniffed me, when instead, I should be peeing on a stick?
What if I’m no good at it? I did just nearly get myself, and Beau, killed.
Beau closes the distance between us, his hand coming up to my jaw, tilting my face gently. When he leans down, his stubble grazes my cheek, and his lips brush my ear, close enough that his breath warms my neck, and I respond to him the way I always do.
My whole body aches for him, and my nipples harden, craving him immediately, anticipation building despite our hazardous situation. I feel safe with him, adored and protected.
"Because at some point, Red," he murmurs against my skin, "maybe even while you were yelling at me, you decided that you wanted to be mine.”
31
BEAU
Zara is out of the cabin and running before the truck has fully stopped, blonde hair whipping around her face, as she jumps down the porch steps in one leap and takes off across the grass.
Ben is right behind her, but he hangs back when Zara reaches the passenger door and yanks it open.
Amber stares at her sister for a long second, her thin face finally crumpling, and the emotions I thought we’d see the second she was hauled out of that truck finally surface.
It only hits me then that until now, she hasn’t really accepted that she’s safe and going home.
Amber looks like a child as she sobs, letting Zara pull her out and hold her so tightly, the blanket slips off her shoulders and onto the ground. Neither of them speaks. They just hold on, rocking side to side, leaning back every couple of seconds to double check that this is happening, and that they’re really back together again.
Zara is stroking Amber's matted hair, murmuring into her ear, her own tears streaming freely.
Ben stands a few feet away, hands in his pockets, giving them space. The raw relief on his face tells me everything about how the last few months have weighed on him. He wanted to fix things for his mate, but it took longer than any of us thought to find her.
Lisa climbs out of the back seat and comes to stand beside me, her arm pressing against mine.
My breathing picks up, my senses catching the power of the emotions she’s hiding, the detective in her fighting to stay in control. For the first time, the bond is feeding me her feelings, and I know what’s going on beneath her stoic expression.
My hand finds the small of her back, and she leans into my touch, both of us watching the two sisters in the spill of the porch light, and for the first time since this whole thing started, my bear is still.
Zara has her sister back. My mate is by my side, and everything is good. Almost.
Chase appears in the doorway taking in the scene, and nods at me once before stepping back inside. He'll want a debrief, but it can wait five minutes.
When Zara finally loosens her grip and wipes the tears that are dampening her flushed cheeks, she cups Amber's face in both hands and studies her, cataloguing the weight loss, the bruises on her wrists, the cut on her forehead. “Are you really okay?”
Amber nods weakly. “I’m not hurt. They… that would have made me less valuable.”