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Adrenaline leaked from her system, and she fought against the building tears. Now was the time to make sure Chet was taken care of. He didn’t need to see her fall apart, to show her fear. To show him how much seeing him hurt affected her. That was something she’d unpack later, when she was alone and could really figure out what it meant. Because right now, the only thing she knew, was that seeing Chet bleeding on the ground gutted her in a way she’d never experienced and hoped to hell she’d never experience again.
12
With his eyes closed, Chet leaned his head on the back of the couch and gritted his teeth, wondering which he wanted more—the pain from his wound to subside or the crowd of people to get the hell out of his house.
Okay, crowd might be a bit of an overstatement, but until a few days ago, having more than one other person in his home was enough to make his skin itch. Now, Mia banged around in the kitchen, convinced he needed something to eat. Brooke and Lincoln sat at his table, discussing the search through her property that resulted with no sign of the man who’d held Mia at knifepoint, and Tucker hunched over in the recliner beside him.
All he wanted was to be alone and lick his wounds. Failure sat heavy on his chest. He should be on the hunt with Cruz, but exhaustion and the severe ache from his injury kept him on the sidelines. The doctor from the emergency room insisted he rest and keep an eye on the seven stitches trailing up his body. The earlier events played on repeat in this mind, each time beating into his head how he’d messed up again. How he hadn’t gotten his hands around that bastard’s scrawny neck.
He’d felt so helpless when Mia was held hostage and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. He’d promised himself he’d never be in that situation again. Never be at the mercy of someone else or let someone he cared about be threatened or harmed. Yet here he was.
Then there was Mia. He’d done everything he could do to keep her away and stop the feelings that snuck up on him from growing. But he hadn’t stopped a damn thing. He couldn’t deny his attraction to her from the start, but now his emotions were deeper—his feelings stronger than he wanted to admit to anyone. Especially himself.
“Grilled cheese and tomato soup.” Mia’s voice chirped beside him.
The smell of salty cheese and basil prompted him to open his eyes. Mia hovered over him, her brows knit with concern. He managed a small smile for her benefit, although the last thing he wanted was food.
“I’m not moving until you take a bite.”
Sighing, he lifted a spoon full of red soup to his mouth. Surprised by the rich, full flavor, he took another sip. “Did you make this?”
A triumphant smirk played on her lips. “Yes. Maybe you need to loosen the reins at work a little, huh?”
He shrugged, then slurped more soup before taking a bite from the warm sandwich. Damn, she was a much better cook than he realized. He’d been so hellbent on keeping her away that he’d never given her a fair shake. Lesson learned.
The front door swung open. Wade McKenzie, the local bar owner, stomped inside with full white, plastic bags dangling from his fingers. “Brought your favs, buddy. How ya feeling?”
Chet bit back a groan. His friends meant well, but things were getting out of hand. “I’m fine.” He bit out the words after swallowing another mouthful of creamy cheese and toasted bread.
The gruff tone didn’t ruffle Wade’s feathers. He dipped his chin in greeting to everyone around the room then hefted the crinkling bags on the counter. “I see you already have something to eat, so I’ll put this in the fridge. It’s not even Sunday, and I made ya some fried chicken.”
Wade’s fried chicken was famous in the area, and he only cooked it on Sunday nights at the Chill N’ Grill.
“Something smells good,” Wade said, either oblivious to Chet’s irritation at another visitor or not caring. “Got enough for another bowl?” He shot Mia a wink, the dimples deepening in his cheeks.
Chet tensed, not liking the way Mia shook her head in amusement and grinned at Wade’s flirty manner. “This isn’t a damn party. Why are you all here?”
Mia hurried into the kitchen and spooned soup into a bowl then handed it to Wade. “Everyone’s concerned.”
“They should be,” he snapped. “But not with me. I’m fine. Everyone should be out there. Finding this guy.” He tossed down his spoon then flicked his wrist toward the front window.
“We’re regrouping,” Lincoln said. “We know more about the suspect now than we did before and need to take that into account. We have a good estimate of his height and weight, and Mia noticed a slight smokey smell to his clothes. These are all things to consider.”
“Agreed,” Chet said. “But now that they’ve been considered, it’s time to move. What about Eddy? Weren’t we going to speak with him?”
“Wearen’t doing anything.” Lincoln stood. “I’m headed to the hardware store now.”
Chet jumped to his feet, the sudden motion making him a little dizzy. “Eddy will talk to me. I want to be there.”
“I’m asking him about rope. Not interrogating him. I think I’ll be fine.”
Bracing himself with a hand on the back of the couch, he faced off with Lincoln. He wouldn’t stand for being pushed aside. “Now wait a minute.”
“How about I go with him?” Tucker said. “Eddy will talk to me as much as you. No need for us both to be there. You stay here and relax.”
“I don’t need to relax. I’m—”
“Yes, we know. You’re fine,” Mia said. “The stitches up your side might say differently.”
