Page 33

Story: Own

He just shook his head at the offer. When the coffee was ready, he set out two mugs and filled them but his phone rang. The sound was enough to make me jump. Worry immediately plunged through me as he pulled it out of his pocket and scanned the screen.
“I have to take this.”
Coffee cup in one hand, phone in the other, he disappeared into the other room and then a door closed distantly. The downstairs bedroom? Maybe.
I set up my coffee how I liked it, then got to work assessing what we had for sandwiches. I started building different types—roast beef and cheddar along with ham and swiss. There was horseradish so I added that to about half the roast beef sandwiches and left the other half free. I used butter on someof the ham sandwiches, and some spicy brown mustard on the others.
When I had four plates of sandwiches halved and stacked, I covered them up then started cleaning up the debris. I’d used all the bread and most of the cheddar. I’d also finished my coffee, so I poured another cup and there was no sign of Bones.
It was the better part of an hour before he emerged once more—once more wearing a shirt—and I had a fresh pot going. Bones eyed the sandwiches then me.
“I swapped the laundry too.” Since the washer had buzzed.
He nodded once, but said nothing as I leaned against the counter, arms folded and watched him. I’d had plenty of time to stew. Whatever this was, we should talk about it.
“You’re not going to say anything?”
Bones paused, then glanced at me. “About?”
“Us? The weather? Food? The call? I don’t know. Something more than the stony silence.”
Hands stilling on the sandwich, he paused to study me. I would give a year’s damn salary to know what the hell was going on in his head. Just a little peek would be worth it.
Goblin stood abruptly from where he’d been flopped at my feet. A door rattled and there was a knock. It carried from the front of the house. Unlike most dogs, Goblin didn’t start barking like mad. No, he went right behind Bones as the man stalked out of the kitchen to head for the door.
As frustrating as it was to be interrupted, excitement kindled in my belly.
They were here.
I lasted all of three seconds before I pushed away from the counter to follow. He hadn’t told me to wait and that was good. I didn’t want to wait.
The door swung inward just as I got there. The guys were just there, filling the doorway. Mud on their boots and looking a littlebruised and battered. Voodoo’s hair was disheveled, but his eyes warmed the moment they lasered onto me.
Tension bled off of me like static.
They were here. They were safe.
Blowing out a breath, Voodoo strode across the open space in three strides. He pulled me into him, a fierce embrace of adrenaline-fueled intimacy. Yet, it was with infinite care that he pressed his forehead to mine.
“You good?” Two little words to sum up the past few days of separation.
“Now,” I admitted in a voice as low as his. I’d been okay. Bones had kept me okay. But I was so much better now that I could see all of them. Now that I could feel him.
He traced my jaw, the contact featherlight but it grounded me. The connection between us just sizzling back to life with a surge of power.
Goblin barked once, bolting across the space as Alphabet stepped inside. Dropping to one knee, he welcomed Goblin’s excited yips and rough play as the sweet puppy seemed determined to maul him with affection.
Still leaning into Voodoo, I drank in the sight of Alphabet’s laughing smile and the relief that seemed to radiate off both him and Goblin. When he glanced up at me, stripped-down tactical calm barely hid the fire in his eyes.
“I’m sorry, Gracie.” The apology caught me off-guard, and it must have showed because he rose with care still petting Goblin. “I’m sorry we didn’t have time to read you in. I’m even more sorry that we didn’t find Amorette.”
My heart squeezed.
“Just—wanted to tell you that,” he said, exhaling a sharp breath like a man who could finally take a deep one again. He didn’t reach for me, but that was okay. Goblin was radiating happiness and I could see them both. It was enough.
As for his words? I planned to hold onto them as tightly as possible.
The last through the door was Lunchbox wearing a weary, but genuine smile. His knuckles were raw and scraped. There was a shadow of a bruise along his jaw. He dropped his bag, then closed the door behind him.