Chapter 50

50

Gunshots reverberated through the mansion as Fox led Freya down the main stairs, his left hand gripping hers while his right held his weapon ready. He kept her tucked behind him, using his body as a shield. Her heart hammered against her ribs, but Fox’s confident movements calmed her.

More gunshots, closer now. Freya flinched, pressing closer to Fox’s back. His hand squeezed hers once, giving reassurance.

A rhythmic thumping cut through the noise, distinctive and mechanical. Fox’s shoulders tensed, but his descent never faltered.

“Is that—” The words stuck in her throat.

“Helicopter.” Fox looked over his shoulder, eyes narrowed. “Keep moving.”

They reached the ground floor. Fox positioned himself between her and the massive front doors, his weapon raised. Behind her, a door slammed.

She spun, looking over her shoulder.

Abe staggered through the doorway from what must have been the back stairs. Blood soaked his right arm. His face was gray with pain, jaw clenched so tight the muscle jumped.

But his eyes found her immediately, locking onto her face.

“Abe!” The cry tore from her throat. She wrenched free of Fox’s grasp, barely registering his shout of protest. Her feet carried her across the marble floor and she barreled into Abe’s chest, wrapping her arms around his torso. His scent surrounded her, and she breathed deep. Smoke, oil and grass.

Her Abe. Real. Alive.

The walls she’d built to survive this ordeal crumbled, and a deluge crashed through her—fear, relief, anger, joy—making her fingers tremble as she clutched at the thick inflexibility of his body armor. Only his good arm, crushing her against him, kept her upright as her legs threatened to give way.

“Freya.” His voice was rough against her hair, little more than an exhale as his warm palm cupped her cheek.

She pulled back just enough to see his face. “You’re hurt.” Her fingers ghosted over his blood-soaked sleeve. He’d been hit in the upper arm. The sharp scent of his blood hit her nose.

“I’ll live.” He pressed his forehead to hers, following it with a tender kiss to her temple.

“I thought—” Her throat closed, choking her. It was hard to breathe, to concentrate on anything but him. She never wanted to be far from him again. This was where she belonged.

“I might be late?”

A half laugh escaped her and she mock-punched the hard material of his body armor. “Never make me doubt that you’re alive again.”

“Will there be more agains?”

His eyes met hers, serious now, all traces of teasing gone.

Close by, Fox’s boots scraped the floor. But here, in this moment, the world had shrunk to just the two of them.

“Do you want there to be?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed, his good hand finding hers. Lines of exhaustion marked his face, but his eyes were clear, intent. “I’m just an old Marine with not much to offer except this—I want to spend my time with you making sure you’re safe, happy, provided for.” His voice roughened. “If you’ll let me.”

She met his gaze, her vision blurred with hot tears. “I would like that very much.” Her voice wavered. “I’m not promising living with me will be easy. I’ve spent my life with numbers, with scientific facts. They’re predictable. Safe. I always know where I stand with them.” She drew a steadying breath. “But I’m learning that being safe isn’t the same as being happy. And maybe the risk of being hurt is worth it, for the chance to live.”

“I think I can handle a few statistics.” His smile broke across his face then, that brilliant, open smile that had stunned her the day they first met. The one she should have known she couldn’t resist, because this man had done the impossible—he’d shown her that her high walls, her rules and numbers, had been protecting her from joy as much as pain.

She wanted to learn everything about him, to spend her days discovering how to make him as happy as he made her.

“That’s my Duchess.” His lips crashed down on hers.

She threw her arms around him and returned the kiss with everything she’d kept locked away for so long. His hand slid to her jaw, his fingers threading through her hair and cradling the back of her head, holding her with a reverence that made her heart ache.

A polite cough interrupted.

Fox.

“Not wanting to intrude, but there are a lot of bad guys running around. We should make a move, locate Zak.”

Abe broke the kiss, and Freya turned to smile at Fox. The slight tilt of his head told her he was listening for movement in the corridors beyond, even as he gave them this moment. His blue eyes held a glimmer of amusement. “Unless you want to test if romance really stops bullets?”

“Sounds like a plan.” Abe pressed a kiss to her forehead. “What say we get out of this joint, Duchess?”