Page 6 of Rafe’s Future

They kept their eyes on one another a moment longer before he released his hold. Lena held back, giving Rafe a small head start before sliding out of the van and following in his path.

As she did, she couldn’t help but feel his goodbye was final. She really hoped that wasn’t the case. Though they’d only known one another a few months, Lena couldn’t imagine never seeing him again.

Someday, Rafe.

It was her sincerest hope that fate would ensure their paths crossed again someday. Until then, she had a plane to catch . . . and an ever-growing list of criminals to bring to justice.

CHAPTER ONE

Atrium Health Carolinas Medical Center

Charlotte, NC

Present Day . . .

Someone was going to die. It would happen slowly. Painfully. Someone was going to die very soon, and Rafe Owens had every intention of being the source of their demise.

They shot her.

Four long, torturous hours ago, two men he hadn’t recognized had ruthlessly gunned down his daughter. One minute, Rafe was standing on the sidewalk in front of his building, making Sunday dinner plans with Shadow—or Alice, as he and his late wife had named her the day she was born—and her husband, Slade. And the next⁠—

They shot my daughter.

A random drive-by. That’s what the police had dubbed it. But he knew better than to believe that was true.

Shadow worked for Tactical Operations, or Tac-Ops for short. It was the elite hostage rescue team Rafe owned and controlled.

The feisty blonde was the team’s resident tech genius. Beyond brilliant when it came to computers, Shadow’s skills as Tac-Ops’ overwatch were impressive by the highest of standards. Unfortunately, keeping the world safe came with a hefty price.

There were risks that came with the kind of job they had. Serious ones they all knew and willingly accepted going in. One such risk to their safety was the collection of enemies teams like his accrued along the way.

Rafe had them. They all did. Even Shadow, whose part in their quest for justice largely took place behind the safety of her screen.

You can’t be certain the shooting had anything to do with the job.

Maybe it did. Maybe it didn’t. Either way, the cops had it all wrong.

There was nothing random about pointing a gun at another human being. And pulling the trigger, well, that was a conscious, purposeful choice.

I will find them, sweet girl. I’ll find them, and when I do⁠—

A weary sigh escaped as Rafe lowered himself into one of the hospital’s private waiting room chairs. Leaning forward, his head fell between his broad, tense shoulders, and his elbows came to a rest at his knees.

He was crawling out of his skin with worry. It had been hours since Shadow had been rushed into surgery. The hope that God would spare Alice’s life was the only thing keeping him sane. That and the fact that the rest of his team was here to offer support to him and Slade.

Rafe’s worried heart broke for the former SEAL. The poor man had already lived through thinking he was going to lose the woman he loved once before. They all had experienced the terror of thinking they’d lose their beloved Shadow to a sadistic killer.

Moving blindly, Rafe’s hand went to his lower left abs. He absentmindedly rubbed the area that still occasionally held the slight stirrings of pain. It wasn’t real. The months-old scar was already fully healed. But every now and then, mostly in moments of high stress, he felt it.

The burning pain. The fear. The crushing sense of helplessness he’d felt that day, knowing he was bleeding out while his daughter took on the man who’d murdered her mother.

Rafe forced his eyes to open, his gaze immediately landing on the dark crimson staining the beds of his fingernails. No matter how many times he scrubbed his skin, Shadow’s blood refused to leave.

It was a gut-wrenching memento. A reminder of what he stood to lose . . . again.

“I can’t believe this is happening.”

The rumbled comment came from Slade, who had just sat in the chair to Rafe’s right. When he looked Slade’s way, his chest tightened with empathy for the suffering the other man was experiencing. The typically stoic man’s emotions were uncharacteristically written all over his sullen face.