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They did. The six of them raced toward the exit, hurdling over dead bodies, weapons and the carnage caused by a blood bath.
The door seemed a million miles away, and Rafe had to slow down when Tessa tripped over a rifle. Bree slowed, too, taking one of Tessa’s arms while he took the other. They raced out into the night, trying to put as much distance between them and those vests.
But the blast came too fast.
Too soon.
Roaring as if it’d come from the deepest level of hell, the explosion ripped through the night.
Rafe reached out, taking hold of Bree, pulling her to him to cover her just as she pulled him to her. They landed together, both of them shielding each other while the debris rained down around them.
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Chapter Eighteen
Bree woke with a jolt, her legs moving. Running. Her heart racing. And the images. Mercy, the images of blood and death.
So much death.
“It’s all right,” she heard someone say, and she snapped toward the man who’d just spoken.
Rafe.
Correction: a naked Rafe.
And he was in her bed.
One look at him—at that face!—chased away all the images. The dread. The fear. In their place came something else. Something much better.
Heat.
Pleasure.
Happiness.
It had taken a lot for them to get from point A, being slammed to the ground during the explosion on the compound to getting to point B of being naked in bed with him. In between, there’d been lots of cop chaos. Crime scene stuff. Reports. More reports. Some trips to the hospital to take care of minor injuries.
And Davy.
He’d confessed to everything he’d done to Sandy Lynn and had indeed been charged with murder and all thesubsequent charges that went with concealing a crime and burying a body. Bree had had no choice but to arrest him.
And then she’d done the same to Tessa.
Bree hadn’t thought in a million years she’d have to Mirandize her blood friend. But she had. And Tessa had fully cooperated. After all, she’d come back home, expecting to be arrested. The bright spot for her was she wasn’t facing murder charges but some lesser ones involving obstruction of justice.
Since the initial crime had taken place eighteen years ago and wasn’t murder, the statute of limitations applied. Tessa couldn’t be prosecuted for her part in shooting her half-sister or failing to call for medical assistance, but she had continued to cover up the crime by storing away Buckner’s confession.
Bree was hoping the charges wouldn’t stick. But that was a worry for another time. She’d had to let that go when the exhaustion had claimed her body.
Then, Rafe had claimed her body as well, and he’d done a very pleasurable job of it. He’d accomplished it with some great sex that had set her up for sleep. Even if that sleep had been peppered with the dreams.
“The nightmares stay with you for a while,” he said. The voice of experience.
The face of a fallen angel.
The hands of a really clever magician.
She leaned in and kissed him. Bree didn’t hurry with it either. She kept it slow and ever so deep. Just enough to let him know she was glad to finally have him in her bed.
