Going In Blind_Brotherhood Protectors World Page 22

  Trent’s hand on her shoulder, holding her in place. “We’re fine. But…tell us more. You said you think Will was shot. Do you know by who?”

  And just like that, she knew. Knew her visions had been right. That Will had been killed by one of the men sitting in this room. That they were just waiting for her to admit how much she knew—if she’d told anyone—then they were going to kill her.

  “Shit. She knows.”

  Townsend. From her right. She felt the air stir, heard the floor creak, and knew he’d gotten out the chair. A click, and a light breeze, and she was sure she was staring down the barrel of his gun. The one she couldn’t see.

  And, in that instant, it all came rushing back. His voice. Townsend. Telling someone to kill her, too, And it had been Paul’s that had said she’d die in the explosion. Both men had been there. Had been standing next to her while Will had tried to save her, then died. She didn’t know which one had shot him—only that theirs were the voices she’d heard in her head. The ones that never went away. That haunted her waking hours.

  A sigh. Townsend was sighing. As if killing her was going to be an inconvenience. Going to mess up whatever plans he’d had tonight. The ones not revolving around her blood on the floor. A bullet between her eyes. Then, it happened. The window shattered, a soft thud breaking the relative silence. Townsend screamed as something clanked to the floor. His gun? His entire hand?

  The door burst open, footsteps rushing forward before a series of explosions rocked the house. There was noise and coughing, then the hand on her shoulder was pulling her close, tipping her back.

  She had the sensation of falling, of the couch rolling. Then, she was on her back, pinned beneath a heavy weight. Not Kent. She’d recognize his body. The feel of him over her. This was someone else.

  “Stay low.”

  Trent Seymour. That’s who was above her. Straddling her hips, firing his weapon. Another few seconds, then a thud beside her. A hand on her cheek.

  Kent.

  She knew it. The shape of his hand, the feel of his skin against hers. She turned to look at him, and the room burst into view. Kent crouched beside her, M4 at his shoulder. Dirt smeared his face, tinged with hints of blood. Trent was still kneeling over her, bloody patch on one shoulder, pistol in his right hand. He kept ducking, then firing, aiming beyond the couch.

  Kent glanced at her, narrowing his eyes. “Hey, beautiful. Do me a favor and stay still. Fuckers had a crew waiting. Had to eliminate four out back before I could even access the property. Far more than we’d imagined. I swear they had an entire SWAT team. They sent two guys in to trip my grenades, then sent in the rest. Gas masks. Goggles. Hank and Cannon have them pinned down, but… We’re waiting on the Feds to make their move. That or for Sam to get his ass around to the front.”

  He cursed when a bullet ricocheted off the top of the couch. “Seymour. Cover her.”

  She shook her head—all she needed was a gun, and she could cover herself, damn it—but it was too late. Trent was down low, obscuring her view. Hiding everything but the determined look on Kent’s face before he darted out—vanished.

  There were shots, shouts, then another explosion. This one sent bits of siding showering down on them. Left a smoky haze in the air. A splattering of blood across the ceiling.

  Then silence.

  Just like that, it all stopped. As if everyone had paused to breathe at the exact same time. She pushed against Trent, tried to shove him off of her, but he merely grunted, using more of his weight to keep her still.

  Time ticked in the background, the eerie silence stretching out until she wondered if they’d all died. If this was what it was like in those moments between earth and heaven. Nothing but an empty silence.

  Then, it came rushing back. Voices shouting in the distance. Men coughing. Feet pounding on the floor next to her. She was shuffled, then bam—Kent was there, again. Lifting her up. Tugging her into his arms. He smelled of sulfur and blood and sweat. Of propellant and dirt and life, and she wrapped her arms around him. Buried her face in his neck, content to stay there until the world stopped spinning. Until she could find a way to tell him she loved him.

  Fingers in her hair. Lightly stroking. “Easy, sweetheart. It’s over.”

  Over? But…didn’t he feel the way she did?

  Then, it hit her. Not them. The fight. The fight was over, which meant they’d won. That she could finally have a future.

  She opened her eyes. Looked into his. “I can see you.”

  He smiled, and her stomach clenched. God, he was stunning. “You’ve always seen me, Addy. Always.”

  Tears burned her eyes. “I…” She gasped as the darkness started pushing in. Tiny holes in his face that slowly dissolved it until there was nothing left but the ghosted image. “No!”

  She cupped his jaw. Tried to will the vision back. They’d cracked the case. At least, started to. Surely that was enough to make her see? To end the torture?

  Kent held her close, one hand holding the back of her head, the other her waist. He started rocking. “Easy, Addy. It’s okay. Everything’s okay.”

  “It’s gone. How is that okay? How can I kick this if I don’t even know why I’m blind? We’ve caught whoever killed Will. I remember, now. It was Townsend’s voice telling Paul to kill me, too. And Paul who said I was already going to die. That the explosion would kill me. One of them must have pulled the trigger. Surely, that’s enough? It needs to be enough.”

  “I’m sure it’s just a matter of time, but either way, I’m here.”

  She fell against his chest, listening to his heart beat against her cheek. He would be enough. Having Kent for the rest of her life. She had to believe that. Blind of not, she’d make sure not to waste this chance.

  Chapter 19

  She was shaking. Shaking and crying and fucking alive, and that’s all that matter to Rigs. All that registered. He didn’t care if her sight ever came back, if she could look him in the eyes. See what she did to him. This—holding her. Knowing he could spend the rest of his life loving her—this was enough. More than he’d ever thought he’d have. And he wasn’t going to let her go.

  Rigs made soothing sounds as he held Addison close, a scattering of debris in her hair. Smoke still filling the room. What seemed like an entire squadron of men were moving through the house. Checking everything. Signaling to their superiors if medical attention was required.

  Two of the fuckers were down. Dead. He’d seen to that personally. Jeremy and Bridgette might have wanted them alive, but Rigs hadn’t. Dead was permanent. Meant he’d be able to sleep at night without worrying if others were on the way. If Addison would face some unknown threat from within if she ever went back to her precinct.

  And there was the part where they’d hurt her. Shot her. Killed her partner. Her friend. That couldn’t go unpunished.

  “Shit, are you two okay?”

  Ice plopped down beside him, oblivious to the shards of wood and glass, his focus on Addison. Rigs sighed, not sure he could let her go, yet. Not even for Ice to check her out. Then, the soldier part of his brain, the only part not still edged with fear, had him easing back—allowing Ice to move in. Give her a once-over.

  His buddy took his time, checking every scratch or nick before finally smiling. “Just a few minor cuts. Nothing that a warm bath or shower won’t fix. Though, I’ll want to change that bandage on your side before you go to sleep tonight. Make sure you didn’t reopen the wound. Okay?”

  She nodded, finally taking a moment to scan the room. Not that she could see, but Rigs suspected she was doing her best to drink it all in. Gather information from the sounds and smells around her.

  She tilted her head to the side. “So, what the hell happened? I was sure Townsend had pulled his gun, but then he was screaming, and I was falling backward. Over the couch, and Trent was on top of me. I thought he was one of them?”

  “I’ll let Rigs fill you in. Seymour took one to the shoulder. I’d like to have a look while we’r
e waiting for the paramedics. But don’t go anywhere.”

  Addy frowned as Ice darted off, relaxing in Rigs’ arms when he drew her close, again. “Trent was shot?”

  “Let’s start closer to the beginning. You’re right. That fucker Townsend did pull his gun. Asshole. But Cannon assures me he was on it the entire time. Only waited long enough to get a better angle. Shot the asshole’s gun right out of his hand.” Took a few fingers in the process, but she didn’t need to know that.

  She cringed then sighed. “What happened next?”

  He grunted. It fucking hurt to talk about it. Not because he cared about the shitheads who’d been killed. But because he hadn’t been there. Had gotten tied up dealing with the bastards out back, and he’d had to rely on his team to take the assholes down. When it should have been him.

  He tightened his hold. Not because she was shaking, but because he was. Hands like a damn junkie as he drank in the sweet scent of her skin. “That’s when things got tricky. They sent in a couple of men while outside forces laid down some suppressor fire. I’m betting they were planning on us still being here. Weren’t taking any chances. Then, they charged the house. Set off a bunch of countermeasures, but there were too many of them. Cannon and Hank kept them from overrunning the room, while Sam flanked left—finally got in front of them.”

  He glanced over his shoulder, watching Ice treat Seymour’s wound for a moment. “That’s when Trent Seymour grabbed you—tipped the couch back and took cover. Fuck, Cannon nearly blew the guy’s brains out before he realized he’d pulled his badge—CIA still, by the way—was signaling he was undercover and was there to protect you. And he did.”

  Kent didn’t say where the other man had taken a bullet for her. A bullet Rigs would have taken. Should have taken. Because she was under his care.

  Addison nodded. “Is that when he got shot?”

  Damn, busted. “Yeah. He thinks it was David. Wasn’t sure. Ballistics will tell us which of his supposed buddies tried to cap you but got him, instead.”

  “So, he was investigating the precinct.”

  “I guess so. We’ll have to wait to hear all of it. Though, if the CIA is involved, I doubt we’ll ever get the full picture. But from what I’ve overheard, he’s been unearthing Stevens’ payoffs for a couple of years, now. Something about a military connection. None of which matters because it’s over.”

  “Over. I like that sound of that. As long as we’re just talking about the threats on my life.”

  “What else would I be talking about?” He grunted. “Us? Not a fucking chance. Not as long as you want me in your life.”

  God, he hoped she wanted him in her life. Because ensuring her safety was going to get him arrested if he had to do it from afar. But he would. No matter what. For as long as he lived.

  Addison swiveled in his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. “You already mentioned something about fifty or sixty years. Can’t go back on your word, now, soldier.”

  And just like that, the band around his chest eased. The one he thought was residual fear from the takedown. But was just, now, realizing it had been another kind of fear. The kind that went soul deep at the thought of having her walk away. He hadn’t wanted to consider that their attraction might only last as long as the threat against her was real, but a part of him—a part he was ashamed to admit existed—had wondered.

  Hearing her say the words out loud...

  Fuck. It stopped the ringing in his ears, the frantic beating in his chest. She was his. That was clear. Nothing else mattered.

  Footsteps, then his teammates were there. Standing in a circle around them. Silent. Waiting. He knew they’d stand there for hours. Give him whatever time he needed until he was ready to move. To share Addison with the rest of the world.

  Addison glanced around, sightless gaze falling on each of his buddies. “I guess it’s time, huh? To talk to everyone? Get debriefed?”

  “Looks like it. But only if you’re up to it. The feds can kiss my ass for all I care.”

  Hank laughed. “Now, Rigs. Sooner or later, you’re gonna have to learn to play nice with others.”

  “I haven’t blown up your chopper or trucks, yet, have I? I’d say I’ve been playing extremely nice.”

  “Still ornery. Look at it this way. The faster we get through this, the faster you can take Addison somewhere safe. Give both of you a chance to recover. Pretty sure she could help make that cabin of yours a bit less depressing. Not to mention this place is gonna need a bit of work.”

  Addison tensed. “Safe? But I thought it was over?”

  “It is. But I also know Rigs won’t truly settle until he has you someplace he considers tactically sound. At least, for a few days. But after that, I have a job lined up for you, Rigs. Maybe Addison would consider staying in Montana for a while? I could use her help vetting prospective employees. There’re a few who look great on paper, but none of us know them, personally. If you’d be willing?”

  Addison laughed. “You want me to sense them out? Seriously?”

  “You pegged Cannon pretty well.”

  “I got it backwards.”

  “Trust me, you really didn’t. More of a misdirection, is all. So, is it a deal?”

  She leaned her head against Rigs’ chest, and he had to fight not to breathe her in. Sniff like a damn dog until her scent was all that remained. “I’d like that. But…I’ll have to be back next week. To get Blade. Can’t leave him a second longer at the vet’s.” She sat up straighter. “Will he be okay at your place? Do you even like dogs? Want us there?”

  Kent grinned. “Love them. And yeah, I’ll make sure it’s safe for him, but seeing as he’s an ex-bomb dog, he might enjoy revisiting that work. Just for fun. And I thought I just told you I was in your life until you kicked me out of it? Are you having trouble hearing?”

  She slapped his shoulder. “My hearing is fine. I’m just…” She smiled. “I’d love to stay.”

  Hell yeah. She’d stay. Never come back if Rigs had his way. “Perfect. Now, let’s get this talk with the feds over. Then, we’ll go home.”

  Home.

  He hadn’t believed any place could feel like that. And hell, his place wasn’t even close to being cozy. Or comfortable. But he’d see it got that way. Quick. Or, they could find somewhere else. Their place. Oh yeah, he could definitely get behind that.

  Rigs was still grinning at the idea as he drove along the highway the following afternoon, Seattle long gone from his rearview—Montana on the horizon. They’d ended up staying the night at Ice’s after enduring a few hour’s worth of questions. Addison had fallen asleep on the drive over, and Rigs had carried her in, careful not to wake her. He still remembered the feel of her in his arms. How they’d gone to sleep holding each other, then woken the same way. His damn dick had been hard the entire time—adrenaline from the op coursing through his veins. Making him intimately aware of her skin. Her scent. How every breath caressed his neck—made him itch to touch her.

  But she’d been exhausted. And, at that moment, her comfort had outweighed his desire to strip her bare and sink inside her. Besides, they had a lifetime of sex and heat and love ahead of them. He was tough enough to wait out one night.

  Except where his damn dick was still hard. Still aching to be inside her. Hanging between his legs like a pipe. One that threatened to explode if she so much as touched him. He’d managed to keep it under wraps while making small talk with Ice and Harlequin—though they’d both clearly been amused by his unspoken state of arousal—before heading to the vet’s. Blade had been conscious and had spent the entire time alternating his attention between the two of them. Rigs had thought the dog was going to lick the top layer of his skin off, but it was hard not to smile. Seeing the animal’s obvious devotion to Addison touched that soft spot he hadn’t known existed inside him. The one reserved for her and ragtag mutts. It had nearly killed him seeing the tears in Addy’s eyes when it had been time to leave.

  That’s when the soldier pa
rt of him had kicked in. He’d asked Addison to give them a minute, then he’d used every intimidation tactic he’d learned to convince the good doctor to let them take Blade, now. Ice wasn’t a veterinarian—hell, he wasn’t even a doctor—but he knew more about bullet wounds and changing bandages than anyone Rigs had ever met. And he’d bet Blade’s life on it, no hesitation.

  The doctor hadn’t been easy to sway, but with a bit more coaxing and a quick call to Ice—a personal guarantee the man would make daily visits. Would call if he suspected there was anything wrong—and the vet caved. Rigs could still see the overwhelming excitement and joy on Addison’s face when he’d told her the news, then carried Blade to his truck.

  Rigs had needed to put the dog’s kennel in the back, but he was with them, just the same. Would most likely sleep the entire way. But despite the happy turn of events, Addison had been strangely quiet on the drive back to her place. Had barely spoken more than a few words as he’d helped her pack a bag then walked her back to his truck. Even now, she sat beside him, hands clasped in her lap, sightless gaze fixed on somewhere off to the right. He’d tried to start up a conversation a few times, but she’d answered in short, choppy sentences, and he’d decided to give her some space.

  But that ended, now, because if he had to sit there for one more minute, agonizing over what she was thinking, he’d go insane. Instead, he pulled over on some dirt road, following it around a short bend to give them some privacy, then waited patiently for her to realize they weren’t moving. That he was staring at her. It was eerie the way she sensed him, but in this instance, it was exactly what was needed. It took her about thirty seconds before her head wobbled—tilting left and right as she turned toward him, brow arched.

  “Okay, sweetheart. Out with it.”

  She frowned, twisting in her seat as if, just now, realizing they weren’t even on the highway. “Out with what? And where are we?”