Page 39 of Kyle (Gold Team #3)

She was in my arms.

Thank fuck.

I was doing my best ignoring her trembling and shuddering in my arms as I walked us down three flights of steep stairs.

When I heard the squealing of tires my heart had stopped.

All I could picture was Emerson losing control and slamming into one of the many trees that lined the road and driveway.

The car had finally come into view and the three of us had waited until it sped past before we unloaded our magazines into the second car.

Four men.

Four fucking men had been following them. No way in hell they would’ve been able to fight their way out of that.

If we had been five minutes later, Anaya and Emerson would’ve been gone. If we’d run into traffic on the highway—gone. If Dec hadn’t driven like a maniac—gone.

The thought made me want to wage violence and at the same time fall to my knees .

I had her. She was here. Safe. In my arms. But she was quaking like a leaf. And she’d said nothing.

Thad pushed open the door in front of us. With his arms full of Emerson, he held it open with his foot.

I got it.

A hundred percent understood the fear and rage I’d seen in Thad’s eyes when Emerson had been kidnapped and taken to Mexico.

I understood why after we’d rescued her he’d refused to allow her to walk on her own.

Hell, he’d even towed her to the awaiting boat, not allowing her to swim herself.

And when we’d gotten back to the hotel, she’d remained in his arms. I got it—all of it.

We were barely through the door when I heard boots tromping down the stairs at a fast clip.

Zane caught the door Thad had been holding before he slammed it closed behind him.

“Jesus fuck,” he clipped. “Goddamn!”

Anaya jerked in my arms and my stomach churned.

“Zane—” Emerson started.

“Goddamn!” he roared.

“We’re fine,” Emerson told him.

Thad’s angry growl echoed throughout the cavernous space.

I made my way across the room to a chair and plopped my ass in it and settled Anaya in my lap.

“This isn’t fine. This is far from fine.”

“I’m sorry.” Anaya’s voice wobbled and she cleared her throat. “This is my fault. All of it.”

“Anaya. Don’t—” Emerson started.

“I killed her. It’s my fault,” Anaya announced.

The room went static and a chill washed over me.

“Come again?” I asked.

“I killed her, that’s what started it. If I hadn’t killed Monica, Jeremy wouldn’t be dead. ”

Anaya’s body shook and a tearless sob tore through her body.

“You killed Monica?” I whispered.

Anaya buried her face in my chest and nodded.

I glanced across the room at Emerson. Her brows were furrowed and her eyes were on Anaya.

“What happened, sweetheart?”

Anaya shook her head against my chest, and after a few moments of silence, Emerson answered.

“She didn’t kill her. Anaya saved my life. I pushed Monica and she attacked me. I couldn’t breathe and Anaya saved my life. None of this is her fault. None of it. You hear me, Anaya. You. Saved. My. Life.” Emerson’s fierce statement hung in the air so thick I struggled to draw in oxygen.

There was a crash across the room, but I didn’t spare my boss a glance as he tore apart his living room. Shit was breaking, glass shattering, but I couldn’t see a damn thing. Even though my eyes were open and Zane’s fit of rage was playing out feet away from me.

I couldn’t see a goddamn thing but Emerson’s intense gaze. My eyes moved to Thad, and his gaze was not intense, it was furious. His dark brown eyes I’d once heard Emerson call soulful had caught fire.

“Emmy, baby,” Thad croaked.

Emerson went on to tell us the story. My insides were paralyzed. Fear, anger, pride, they swirled together, and every few sentences I had to squeeze Anaya just to remind myself she was safe. She was here.

Zane was wisely holding himself off to the side. Intellectually I knew what had happened wasn’t his fault. But my emotions were too raw, too bitter.

“He said what?” Zane cut into Emerson’s story.

“I’m paraphrasing of course, but it was something like the great Zane Lewis forgot to scrub your phone,” Emerson repeated.

Zane was vibrating with anger as he pulled his phone out and put it to his ear. A moment later he barked, “Garrett. Everyone’s phones are to be cleaned. ASAP.” He paused, then finished. “Jax and Dec are on their way with Landry.”

Smart man, not allowing Thad or me to lay eyes on the motherfucker. Though Dec would handle business before Landry was turned over. He would be left breathing, but the man would never forget Declan, that was for damn sure.

“Monica said no one found her?” I asked.

“Emmy and I talked about that,” Anaya said, but didn’t pick her head up off my chest. “At first we didn’t think anything of it. But after everything that happened, I think it’s safe to say that was a setup.”

“No shit,” Zane snapped. Then he sighed and scrubbed both hands over his face.

“What about Monica?” Anaya asked.

“What about her, sweetheart?”

“I killed her.” Anaya pulled away and sat up in my lap and stared at me through a haze of regret and pain.

Shit, goddamn, she was feeling this deep. Taking the woman’s life was going to mark her. I waited until Anaya focused on me and decided it was up to me to make sure that cut wasn’t deep, that it would heal.

“Shits me to have to say this to you, but I need you to listen. What happened to Monica isn’t on you, it’s on her.

She made the choice to attack Emerson. We sent you in not knowing if she was a victim or an accomplice.

And now you bear the brunt of that decision.

And I’m so fuckin’ sorry for that, sweetheart.

Her life—not the way she lived it and not how it ended—is not on you.

Other people made those choices for her.

Whether she attacked Emmy with the hopes of killing Emerson or that one of you would kill her we’ll never know.

What I do know is you two are still breathin’ and that is all that matters.

You did what you had to do to keep Emerson alive and yourself safe and I’m damn proud of you. ”

“But… what happens now?”

“Now we go home.”

“No. With the police. Won’t I be in trouble?”

“Fuck no,” Zane cut in. “First, you acted in self-defense.”

“But—”

“Darlin’, none of this will blow back on you.

Monica’s been taken care of. That’s all you need to know.

Now you go home, lean on your man, let him help you work this out.

All the shit that’s fucking with your head, you give to him.

You do not bottle it up. You do not keep it to yourself.

You do not dwell. You give it all to Kyle and let him help you move on.

That’s it. End of. There’s nothing else to worry about. ”

“And Harry?”

“He’ll never see the light of day again.”

“But—”

“Harry fucking Landry does not exist for you. He doesn’t exist for Emerson.

He is gone in a way that is forever.” Zane stopped and looked from Anaya to Emerson.

“Sorry doesn’t fuckin’ cut it, so I won’t insult you by apologizing, but I hope you both know I wouldn’t ever knowingly put either of you in danger, but I did it all the same.

This is my fault. Not yours. My men are pissed as shit at me as well they should be.

We’ll work that out in private and I suspect it will be ugly, but that’s on me.

But I want you both to know you did everything right.

You both are warriors. Strong, smart, and resourceful.

From start to finish you made all the right plays. Damn proud of you both.”

“Can we get the hell out of here? I want to take my wife home.” Thad stood to punctuate his demand.

I remained sitting, not sure if my legs would be steady enough to stand. My relief was palpable, making my body limp with it.

Anaya was safe.

Thank fuck.

The seven-hour drive back to Maryland was interesting.

Zane drove, Thad sat in the front seat only after Emmy had pleaded her case that she wanted to sit with Anaya. That left me and the two women in the back seat with Anaya in the middle.

The two women had held on to each other, something I didn’t fight even though I wanted Anaya pressed close to me. The two of them had forged an unbreakable bond, one born from battle and survival. A bond I fully understood.

The farther we drove away from the silo, the more relaxed Anaya became and the chattier the women were. It twisted my gut listening to them talk about what had happened, but I knew they needed it. Some of it sliced me deep. Some of it made me smile. All of it impressed me.

Their quick thinking had saved their lives. Not that I was happy either of them was in a position to have to do so, but they had been, and when shit went sideways, they’d stuck together and kicked ass.

Proud didn’t begin to cut it. Anaya Baker was steel—strong and tough under all that beauty.

And she was mine.

I vowed right then as the light of dawn peaked over the horizon, I would do whatever I needed to do to make sure Anaya healed.

The blow wouldn’t be permanent. It would bleed and fester.

Tomorrow I’d set about making sure it scabbed over, and the scar would be so microscopic you’d need a magnifying glass to find it .

“Was that Thelma and Louise enough for you?” Anaya giggled.

“Yeah. Let’s never do that again,” Emerson returned.

“At least we didn’t go over a cliff.”

“No. We just slammed through a building.”

Both women dissolved into a fit of giggles and I clenched my jaw. I didn’t find a damn thing funny about watching the car my woman was in crash through a pole barn. They’d gotten damn lucky.

“Can we not fuckin’ joke about that?” Thad growled.

“I think it’s too soon for him,” Emerson whispered.

“It will never not be too soon, Emerson. I watched my wife… fuck…never joke about it.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Emerson pinch her lips together and look at her lap.

Anaya’s hand found mine and she threaded our fingers together like I had done that very first plane ride.

A plane ride that seemed like a lifetime ago.

One that had irrevocably changed my life.