Page 43 of Bennett (HC Heroes #15)

B ennett’s heart kicked hard against his ribs as he crossed the space in two strides.

“Laurel.”

She didn’t look up. Didn’t seem to hear him. Her gaze was fixed, distant, somewhere far from here. Her breath came in shallow bursts, and her knuckles were white around the grip.

Not good.

Slowly lowering to his knees, he reached out and covered her hands with his, careful not to startle her. Her skin was cold. So cold.

“Laurel,” he said again, softer this time.

Finally, her head turned. Her eyes met his, and damn near gutted him.

Terror. Shock. So much fight still tangled with fear.

But she was alive.

“You’re safe,” he said, the words catching somewhere low in his throat. “It’s over.”

She blinked like she didn’t quite believe him.

“I’ve got you.”

Her fingers twitched, loosened, and then let go.

He eased the weapon from her hands, setting it aside with slow, deliberate care. And then he pulled her in.

She came willingly. Folded against him like the weight of what just happened had finally snapped the last thread holding her upright. Bennett wrapped both arms around her and held on.

His jaw locked as he pressed his face into her hair, his hand skimming up her back, wishing like hell he could somehow erase what had just happened. She was warm now and trembling, her breaths hiccupping against his chest.

He couldn’t stop touching her. Maybe, if he kept moving, kept holding, he could convince himself she was okay.

A door opened behind them. Boots. Voices. Gabe’s, low and clipped as he approached. “That’s Fred Hess,” the sheriff said grimly. “APB confirmed.”

Bennett didn’t move. He kept Laurel wrapped up as Gabe and two deputies took control of the scene.

Matthew’s voice drifted in, low and clipped. “He had a gas can and a gun.”

Bastard.

Bennett clenched his jaw tightly. Thank God the man hadn’t been able to carry out his plan.

He heard cuffs click. Heard Hess curse and groan. Heard the deputies mutter something about resisting.

But it was all white noise.

All that mattered was the woman in his arms.

“I’m okay,” she whispered after a minute, like she was trying to make it true. “I’m okay.”

“No,” he murmured, pressing his hand over her back again. “You’re not. But you will be.”

She made a small sound, half a laugh, half a sob, and buried her face deeper against his neck.

That did it.

Something low and violent cracked through his chest.

Hess had nearly burned her alive. Would’ve done it without flinching.

Bennett tightened his hold.

Gabe crouched beside them, one hand resting on his knee. “You two all right?”

He didn’t answer right away, just stared past him to the gas can. The scorch mark it could’ve left. The pile of Laurel’s dreams that could’ve gone up with it.

His whole world was in his arms.

“She is,” he eventually said. “If you need us, we’ll be upstairs.”

He stood slowly, bringing Laurel with him, one arm around her waist. She leaned on him—not because she couldn’t walk, but because maybe she trusted him to hold the weight she wasn’t ready to carry yet. And he never took trust lightly.

His gaze drifted toward the front of the shop, and he froze.

Theo was still there.

His cousin stood just inside the door, bruised, breathing hard, watching everything with the wary silence of someone who wasn’t sure if he belonged.

Their gazes met.

Bennett didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

For once, he didn’t feel the surge of anger he expected. Just exhaustion. And questions. But those could wait.

He gave a single nod. A beat of recognition. Nothing more.

That conversation would come.

But not here. Not now.

He looked back down at the woman in his arms. She’d stopped shaking, but she hadn’t let go.

“Let’s get you home,” he murmured.

***

A n hour later, they were upstairs, safe.

Or as safe as anyone could be after nearly watching everything burn.

Bennett’s insides twisted tighter as he stood near the dining room window, his eyes locked on the street below even though he wasn’t really seeing it.

His hand rested on the sill, fingers tense against the wood.

His body hadn’t come down yet, adrenaline still pumping through his system, hot and wired, like he was braced for another attack.

Laurel sat on the couch, knees tucked up, wrapped in the soft blanket Rylee had draped around her shoulders. She hadn’t said much since Gabe took their statements. She gave the facts in that crisp, even tone of hers, then went quiet.

Not withdrawn. Not shut down.

Just quiet.

The poor woman was no doubt trying to absorb the fact that a man had walked into her shop with a gun and gasoline because she dared to build something.

Bennett swallowed a curse. He understood that silence more than he wanted to, and God, he hated that Laurel was going through all this.

But at least things were moving in the right direction.

Gabe had left ten minutes earlier to start processing Hess. The charges were solid—attempted arson, assault with a deadly weapon, and a list of priors that would make bail nearly impossible. Gabe had sounded confident.

“He’s not walking out of this, not anytime soon.”

And thanks to Carter’s digital trail and the site logs Bennett had found, Duke Carver’s connection to it all was tightening.

The shell companies used to pay Hess linked back to one of Duke’s holding firms. It wasn’t a direct confession, but it was damn close.

Close enough for warrants. Close enough to put a very public fire under the man’s feet.

Gabe had stated bluntly before walking out the door, “He won’t wiggle out of this one.”

Mac stood near the apartment door, arms crossed and silent, watching Laurel like a man who knew what survival looked like and what it cost. Rylee was perched beside her on the couch, her voice low and even, her presence solid without crowding.

She didn’t offer false comfort or soft words. Just showed up, like she always did.

Then Laurel laughed.

It wasn’t loud. Wasn’t forced. Just a light, unexpected sound in the middle of all the wreckage, and it hit Bennett square in the chest.

Hope.

Not the blind kind. Not the kind he’d trained himself to ignore. But the real kind. Earned. Fragile. Undeniable.

She was going to be okay.

He watched her smile at something Rylee said, the way her shoulders had dropped just enough to suggest she could breathe again.

And that’s when the adrenaline in his veins started to dissipate, burning off, leaving only the ache beneath it.

His body hurt. Not from injury, but from hours of tension he hadn’t let himself feel until now.

His hands flexed at his sides, restless, and when he pulled in a breath, it scraped hard on the way out.

Too much had happened too damn fast.

But through the chaos, one thing was clear, clearer than anything else had been in a long damn time.

He couldn’t lose her.

Not now. Not ever.

And he damn sure wasn’t going to let her walk through the aftermath alone.

He stepped away from the window and crossed the room. Laurel must’ve sensed him coming because her gaze slid over to meet his halfway, and something in her softened.

She said something to Rylee, quiet but intentional.

Rylee nodded and rose to her feet, pressing a hand gently to Laurel’s shoulder. “We’ll check in later,” she said with a small smile. “You’ve got back-up, and I’ve got a grumpy husband waiting on tacos.”

Mac gave Bennett a short, wordless nod, sort of a passing of the torch between soldiers, then he followed Rylee out the door.

The moment it clicked shut behind them, silence settled.

Not awkward. Not cold. Just…full.

Bennett sat down beside her, close but careful, elbows resting on his knees.

“I’m trying not to hover,” he said without looking at her.

A beat passed. “You’re failing.”

He huffed out a breath, half a laugh, half a release of tension. Still, he didn’t look at her. “I don’t care,” he said finally. “I just need to be near you right now.”

That pulled a different silence from her. A quiet one. Weightier. He finally turned his head to find her watching him with a warm, adoring gaze.

“You’re here, Bennett,” she said simply, like it answered everything. “That’s all I need.”

And damn it, that nearly undid him.

“I know you’ve said you’re okay,” he murmured, “but I need to hear it. Really hear it. Are you hurt?”

She shook her head. “No. I’m okay. I’m not hurt.”

He nodded once, slowly. “Good. Because I’ve never wanted to kill someone more than I did standing in that doorway.”

Her mouth curved faintly, a tired flicker of a smile. “You didn’t seem to hesitate.”

He hadn’t. In that moment, he’d made a split-second decision to let Matthew take Hess down because if he’d gotten there first, the bastard would’ve left in a coroner’s wagon, not a cruiser.

“I didn’t.” He softened his tone. “I never will when it comes to you.”

She blinked hard and gripped the blanket tighter around her. He reached out and gently covered her hand with his own.

“I should’ve been here sooner,” he said. The words were low. Rough. “If Theo hadn’t—”

“You were exactly where you needed to be,” she said, cutting him off gently. “He wasn’t the only one who saved me today.”

He stared at her for a long second, emotions swirling thick in his chest.

Laurel reached out and touched his face, her fingers light along his jaw, her thumb brushing just beneath his eye. “You showed up. You came when I needed you.”

“And I always will,” he said, pulling her into his arms, where she curled against him like it was the only place she wanted to be.

He rested his chin lightly against her temple, letting the silence stretch, letting his heart settle to the beat of hers.

After a moment, she pulled back just enough to look at him. Her hand still rested against his cheek, her fingers warm and sure.

“You can kiss me now,” she whispered, lips curving into something soft and real. “That’s the kind of hovering I don’t mind.”