Page 116 of Chasin’s Surrender

Chasin quickly surveyed the door and found nothing that would suggest a boobytrap. He slowly opened the door with his left hand, keeping the gun in his right at the ready. The smell hit him first. Old, musky, with a tinge of copper.

He beat back the urge to rush in and continued to enter slowly. Years of training had taught him to keep his heartrate steady, his mind focused, and his body in check. Nothing flitted through his mind except his objective—find Bobby breathing.

Not even Genevieve entered his mind. He couldn’t let himself go there and risk getting hurt, or worse—Bobby dead.

The single-wide was small. The kitchen to his right was empty. He turned left and there she was. Blood coming from her head, limbs at an awkward angle like she’d been tossed on the dirty shag carpet without care. He made his way to her and squatted down, gun still pointed to the back of the trailer. He needed to finish clearing the space but he took a moment to check Bobby’s pulse.

Strong, steady, alive.

That was all he needed. Back on his feet, he cleared the one bedroom and bathroom.

Thank fuck.

He shoved his gun into the holster at his hip and rushed back to Bobby.

“Outside’s clear,” Jameson noted, entering the trailer. “Fuck.”

Fuck was right. Bobby’s face looked like she’d gone a few rounds with a heavyweight and she was not the winner. But it was the deep gash across her forehead that worried him.

So much blood. It had leaked down the bridge of her nose, across her cheek, and pooled on the carpet.

Chasin got to his knees, gently swept the matted hair from her face, and noted it had started to dry.

Fucking hell.

“Bobby, honey, wake up.”

There was a low moan and her hand twitched.

Thank Christ.

“Hurt,” she whispered.

“Don’t talk. We’re gonna get you out of here. Just a few minutes.”

“Bent,” she groaned.

“We know. Everything’s gonna be okay. You’re safe.”

“Evie.”

“Shh, Bobby.”

Chasin lifted his gaze from Bobby’s busted face to Jameson. His head was turned as he looked out the door, but even in profile, there was no missing the hard set of his jaw.

“Cops are here,” Jameson rumbled.

“Ambo?”

“Negative.”

“Call it in,” Chasin told him.

“Evie…kill her.”

Chasin’s heartrate skyrocketed and he had to close his eyes to block out the emotion that threatened to overtake him.

Evie’s safe.