Page 98 of Viking Unchained

“Like you miss my daddy?”

“Well, sort of.”

Mike had been whisked away before he could see the actual devastation. No one had died, but Mayor Svensson might very well lose an arm. The senator had a concussion. Finn needed a few stitches on his arm and shoulders. Many people had abrasions. The elderly couple who’d been hostages were dehydrated and in shock at a nearby hospital. It could have been a deadly disaster if Finn hadn’t acted so quickly.

“Are you sure Finn is okay? Are you sure he’s really here? Maybe we should go in and check. Maybe he needs us ta hold his hand if he’s gettin’ a shot. Maybe—”

“Mike! Settle down. He’ll be out soon.”

He was about to argue when the inner office door opened.

“Your young man will be out soon, Lydia. We’re just taking X-rays to make sure there are no internal injuries,” Doc Fallon said. The gray-haired, rotund man with a jolly disposition had been her family doctor since birth. “He’s a lucky man.”

“Yes, I know,” she said.

“So, Mikey, you wanna come back and see my ice-pop freezer?”

Mike’s face brightened, but he looked to Lydia for approval.

“Sure, sweetie.”

Soon after that, Finn came out, limping slightly. Dave’s suit jacket was gone, the dress shirt stained with blood, with one sleeve ribbed and one pant leg ripped to gain access to his wounds. Lydia and Mike looked battered, too, but not as bad as Mr. Hero here.

He smiled at them, but his expression appeared strained. Well, why wouldn’t it? He’d been through hell today. They all had.

His eyes connected with hers, and held. Something was wrong. But then he glanced at Mike. “Hey, bratling, how are you doing?”

“Okay,” Mike said in a wobbly voice, then launched himself at Finn, who caught him in his arms with a wince.

“Mike,” she reprimanded, “Finn is hurt.”

Ignoring her, Mike buried his face in Finn’s neck and locked his arms and legs around him.

With a choked laugh, Finn used one hand to hold him up, under the buttocks, and the other to tousle his hair. Then, leaning his head back, Finn inquired, “Why the headlock, little one?”

Mike had tears in his eyes. Lydia hadn’t realized just how much emotion he’d bottled up since the explosion. She should have realized he was being unnaturally quiet.

“I thought you went to heaven with my daddy.”

There was supposed to be a

kiss, not a kiss-off . . .

Thorfinn had made some decisions in the past hour.

He sat stiffly in the passenger seat of the vehicle as they drove back to Mill Pond Farm. Mike was asleep in the back seat, the day having finally overwhelmed the little mite. Thorfinn had offered to drive; these empty country roads would have provided good practice for him, but Lydia had insisted that he was in no condition to drive with all his injuries. She had been right. Oh, these cuts and bruises were nothing for a Viking who suffered more just surviving day to day in the far Northlands, but he was off balance in other ways.

With one hand on the steering wheel, she reached over with the other and squeezed his hand. “I was so scared. Thank God you’re safe.”

Likewise, sweetling, he thought. A thousand times likewise.

He could scarce breathe for all the emotions rushing through his body, and he did not like the feeling of helplessness. Not at all. So much could have gone differently today. He felt like a warrior after a hard-won battle. “Yea, thank the gods, you and Mike are safe, too.”

“Especially Mike, I’m sure. You just found Mike. To lose him would have been devastating to you.”

“You, too,” he said. At her look of confusion, he said, “I would have been devastated to lose you, too.”

“What?” She swung her head to the right and the vehicle swerved.