Blake hesitated, once again torn between his job and his heart. “There was C4 in that blast. I could smell it.”
“You’re lucky to be alive. Just go.”
Blake swallowed painfully, and stretched his shaking limbs. “Well, watch your step.”
West snorted. “I’ve got this. Take care of yourself and your girl.”
Blake jerked into an uncomfortable jog, heart and mind racing along with his pace. It was Marissa’s face he’d seen when the world blew up around him, and hers was the only one he wanted to see now. West was right. Blake couldn’t be sure when it had happened or what Marissa would think of it, but the deal had been sealed in his mind. She was his girl. His to defend and protect, yes, but so much more if she’d let him.
Fierce determination powered his feet along faster. Toward the incoming sirens, the flashing lights, and Marissa. The thief who’d popped into his life, knocked him sideways and stolen his heart.
* * *
COLE’S FACE BLURRED into Marissa’s view. The warmth of his body was everywhere, and the look on his face was wildly expectant.
“Ow,” she groaned the first thing that came to mind. Her head and neck ached and throbbed as she struggled to recall why she was in Cole’s arms instead of Blake’s. And why they seemed to be sitting on the street outside her home.
He released her with one hand and raised two digits in the air like a peace sign. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
She swatted his hand away. “Why am I on your lap?” Why were they alone on the ground? Her mental wheels spun, getting nowhere.
A bright light beamed into her eyes, sending shards of pain through her skull.
She whacked blindly at the source. “What is wrong with you?”
Cole chuckled, bouncing her gently along with him. “Nothing’s wrong with me. I’m trying to figure out what’s wrong with you.”
“What’s wrong with me?” she asked.
His warm expression dimmed. “You hit your head.”
“Oh.” A groggy sensation crept through her bones. How had she hit her head?
“Stop fighting, and let me evaluate your injuries,” Cole said, flipping the light into view again. “You could have a concussion.”
She dropped her hands to her lap. “Why aren’t you a doctor?” she asked. “I remember hearing you went to medical school. What happened?”
His brows furrowed, and he averted his gaze for a long beat, as if he didn’t want to answer. “That’s expensive,” he said finally, “and a lot more people die. I like being the hero.”
She rolled her eyes and winced. “Ow.”
Cole pocketed the little light. “Any nausea?”
Marissa struggled upright, easing herself away from him. “No, but my ears are ringing.”
“I think that’s the ambulance.”
Her body tensed. The sound of metal on bone echoed through her mind. “Nash.” He’d gotten to her again. She covered her mouth. There was the nausea. “Blake!” She twisted in search of him, rocking onto her knees and forcing her shaky body upright. “Holy.” She pressed a hand to her head and bent forward at the waist, fighting the sickness and pain coursing through her.
“He went after Nash.” Cole rose to place a steadying hand on her back.
“Where?” She lifted her face and squinted into the dark woods.
“I think you’d better sit back down.”
“Where are they?” she demanded.
Cole stepped into her view. He frowned, all pretense of congeniality gone. “You were injured, and Nash ran. My brothers gave chase. You need to stay still until the ambulance gets here.”
An explosion rocked the world. Marissa sucked air and blinked through a painful bout of panic. “What was that?”
Two gunshots echoed through the night before Cole could answer.
Cole went rigid. His expression fell blank.
Marissa’s stomach dropped and a whimper slipped from her lips. Tears streamed over her burning cheeks. She swallowed bile and forced five terrifying words from her mouth. “Did Nash have a gun?” She recalled his fingers mashed against her jaw. His arm around her ribs. But was he armed? Had there been a firearm under his coat? Pressed to her back?
Cole pulled her into his arms. “I don’t know.” The thread of worry in his voice betrayed his cool facade.
The wood line was silent, and the winds were picking up. No sounds of voices or footsteps. What was going on in there? How far had they gotten? Was Blake okay? Did he know about the cliff above the water? A knot of emotion clogged her throat and stung her eyes anew. What if she lost him? She’d only just found him.
Bright red-and-white flashes from an ambulance and several government vehicles arrived seconds later. The caravan stopped behind Blake’s truck. At least two cruisers and as many black SUVs lined the space at the foot of her driveway. Multiple uniformed men and women rushed into the woods. Others paraded along the street, marking the wood line with flares and searching the ground from her driveway to the woods. Little flags were placed at boot prints in the mud. The flash of cameras and sirens mixed with a growing murmur of voices.
Cole peeled her off of him, then passed her to a man in an EMT shirt. “She has head and neck trauma. The facial abrasions are two days old. Bruising is a mix of then and now. Let’s load her up. Get her out of sight while you take a look.”
Marissa ran her hands over the marks on her face and neck. A flood of emotion overcame her. Fear, embarrassment, anger, humiliation. Hopefully Nash came across that cliff accidentally. “I’m not going to the hospital.”
Cole snorted.
The EMT offered Marissa a concerned smile. “We don’t need to go anywhere. Would you mind having a seat inside so I can make a proper evaluation?”
She eyeballed the open cargo doors. “Can we stay outside?” Her gaze ran the length of the street near the woods. “I’m fine. I don’t need anything that’s in there.”
The man raised a stethoscope toward her in compliance, but Cole intervened.
He inched closer, nudging her toward the gaping
