Sawyer planted a kiss on Henry’s head. “What do you say we get out of here?” he asked. “The house is spotless. The work is done. Let’s head back to the lake house. I think it’s my turn for a shower.”
Emma shut her eyes against the planted image. If the awful things she’d seen today didn’t keep her up all night, the thought of Sawyer in the shower absolutely would.
They loaded more of Emma’s and Henry’s things into the SUV and hit the road at twilight. By nightfall, they were settled in at his place, and Henry was fast asleep. Emma carried the baby monitor back to the living area after putting Henry down for the night.
“That was fast,” Sawyer said, looking impressed.
“He was exhausted,” she said. “I hope he doesn’t remember any of this when he gets older.”
Sawyer’s lips turned up in a small, sad smile. “He won’t. Most people don’t have memories until preschool, and those are fuzzy.”
Emma sighed. He was right. Her earliest memories were around age five. So, maybe Henry would have a chance at normal, and the things he’d experienced this week might not turn him into a neurotic, anxiety-riddled mess. “Do you think whoever trashed my house will be back?” she asked.
Sawyer seemed to consider the question for a long beat. “He overturned everything in sight. I’m not sure there’s anywhere left to look at your place. Hopefully, he’s satisfied that whatever he wants isn’t there, and he’ll leave the house alone.”
She wrapped her arms around her middle and rubbed the goose bumps off her skin.
“Are you hungry?” Sawyer asked, moving toward the kitchen.
Her stomach growled audibly in response. The only person who’d eaten anything since breakfast was Henry, who’d never missed a bottle.
Sawyer washed up at the sink, and Emma found herself staring.
“Why don’t you let me cook this time?” she asked. “I saw some trout in the refrigerator this morning. There’s plenty of veggies for a salad. You can shower while I get dinner started. We can meet on the deck for dinner.”
Sawyer lifted his brows and straightened his shoulders. “I accept.”
* * *
SAWYER RUSHED THROUGH a lukewarm shower, hurrying to clean up and get back out there to guard and enjoy Emma before she fell asleep.
Fifteen minutes later he pulled a plain black T-shirt and his most comfortable blue jeans over still-damp skin, and ran his fingers through wet hair. He peeked in on Henry before heading down the hall in Emma’s direction. He found her on the rear deck, lighting candles along the railing. The table was set with a tossed salad in the center and ice water at each place.
“Trout will be done soon,” she said, looking him over from head to toe with an expression that bordered on hunger. When her eyes met his, she blushed.
Sawyer’s blood heated. She was checking him out. “Everything looks great,” he said, “and dinner smells delicious.” The familiar pinch of conflict warred in him. He wanted desperately to tell her how he felt and work out every detail of what would happen to them next.
Unfortunately, Sara was still missing, and they weren’t any closer to finding her, naming the killer or figuring out what she’d been up to. So far, Sawyer had failed his mission. If there was a worse time to attempt to woo a woman, he couldn’t think of one.
Emma opened the grill and tested the trout with a fork, then squeezed a lemon over the tops of the fillets, and levered each off the grates and onto a serving dish.
They ate in silence. Fireflies hovering over the lake. Moonlight reflecting on the silver water. The tension between them seemed to grow exponentially, and Sawyer realized it might be bad news in the making. Emma pushed the food around her plate, rarely making eye contact. Was she getting up the nerve to let him down easy? Had she seen the way he looked at her and known it was best to nip this in the bud? Was she trying, in her own sweet way, not to hurt him when she gave him his walking papers?
Sawyer set his fork aside, no longer hungry. If he was right, it would explain her attitude earlier, when he’d suggested buying a second crib for Henry to use at his house. Maybe she didn’t plan to let Sawyer see him long enough at a time to necessitate a crib.
That couldn’t be right.
Could it?
Emma wiped her mouth and set the napkin aside. “Can we talk?”
“Yes.” Sawyer frowned, prepared to vehemently plead his case. No, he hadn’t returned her message when he’d gotten home, and he understood now that he should have, but he was trying to do the right thing by letting her go. He thought she’d moved on, and he had no right to barge back in, in search of something that was no longer there. Of course, he didn’t know about Henry then, but now that he did, he’d never walk away from his son.
Sawyer didn’t want to walk away from Emma either.
She flopped back in her chair, the hem of her shirt knotted around her fingers. “We need to talk about the crib situation and my behavior earlier.”
Sawyer dragged his chair around the table and captured her fidgeting hands in his, overcome with the need to stop her from saying the words that would break him. “Me first,” he said, swallowing his pride. He couldn’t let her push him back out of her life until she knew how he felt. If she still wanted out after he’d spilled his guts, he couldn’t stop her, but at least she would have all the facts before making a huge decision. “I should have called,” he said.
Her mouth opened, then slowly shut without a protest.
“I was trying to do the right thing, but I can see now how wrong it was.” He lifted her hands in his and pressed them to his lips. “Emma, you are the only reason I’m even here today. Thoughts of you were what got me through my darkest times. The memories we made together kept me fighting when I wanted to give up.” He squeezed her hands. “I needed to get back here to you like I’d promised I would. Now here I am. I’m home. A civilian and a father.”
Emma blinked. “And? What are you saying, Sawyer?”
“I’m saying that I don’t know what kind of arrangement you have in mind for us with Henry in the future, but I’ll accept whatever terms you give as long as I can be with him as often as possible. I’ve already missed too much. I don’t want to miss another thing. Not his first word or first step. Not his first baseball game or fishing derby or car or college...”
Emma sniffled. “Sawyer.”
“Wait.” He steeled himself for the finish. He was only halfway there, and he needed to finish before some other calamity kept him from it. “Once I’d made it back on base, away from the insurgents who’d held me all those months, I thought things would get better, but they didn’t. Being physically safe seemed to shift the stress. Once I was no longer in survival mode, I had time to think. And it’s all I did, but then I had a hard time concentrating on anything other than what I’d been through. I couldn’t eat or sleep. I retreated into my head with the memories I didn’t want. It was like falling into a black hole every day. By the time I made it back stateside and was discharged, I was spinning out of control. My team at Fortress helped. They kept my head on straight. Gave me renewed purpose. New missions to save lives. My guys checked on me, made sure I toed the line and wasn’t slipping back into the darkness, and it made all the difference. I was only beginning to feel human again when I took your call the other night, but I hadn’t felt like myself in a year before that. It was like I’d been lost at sea and you were the lighthouse. I saw your face, and everything changed.”
Emma blinked fat tears over her cheeks. She lifted her hands to her mouth and released a small sigh.
Shame racked Sawyer. He never wanted to be the reason for her tears, and he certainly hadn’t meant to burden her with his troubles, only to open up to her so that she could understand. “I want you to be happy, you and Henry, even if that’s not with me. Just...be happy.”
Her expression hardened, and she folded her arms.
“Why wouldn’t I be happy with you?”
He frowned. “Didn’t you hear me? I’m a mess. A barely recovered nightmare who just promised to protect you a few days ago and has failed repeatedly.”
“That’s not true,” she said, setting her jaw and shifting her weight.
His gaze slid to the angry purple-and-brown bruise across her cheekbone.
“I was mugged outside a credit union,” she said, apparently knowing where his thoughts had gone. “No one could have predicted that. No one.”
He opened his mouth to tell her that was his job. To troubleshoot, to think ahead of the danger and keep her away from it, not stand across the street while she was assaulted and pretend it could have happened to anyone. He’d been lax, and it had cost her.
She raised a palm to stop the interruption. “You’ve done nothing but protect me every minute since you got here, so don’t try to tell yourself or me otherwise, because I’m not buying it.”
Sawyer’s mouth snapped shut. He watched the hard line of her narrow jaw clench, and despite himself, a pinch of misplaced pride swept through him. He loved that fire in her. The spark for justice when she thought something wasn’t fair or right. The internal defender. Emma was kindness and honor, love and determination. She was all the things he aspired to be, and seeing her so ready to defend him sent a wave of warmth and hope through his chest.
“You haven’t failed me,” she said. “Not once. Not even when you got home and decided not to return my message. I can be hurt that you didn’t call, but it won’t change the fact that I would’ve done the same thing in your position. I would’ve tried to protect you from me too, and I would’ve done exactly what you did.”
Sawyer’s heart clenched. “What?”
“I think you are a brave and honorable man, Sawyer Lance. I don’t want you to ever think any differently. I’m proud to know you, and I’m proud that you are my son’s father. I was only upset about the crib earlier because I didn’t like the idea of dividing Henry between us. It sounded like you wanted to split custody, but I don’t want that.”
Sawyer raised his palms to cup her beautiful face. A reed of hope rearing in him. “What do you want?”
She fixed emotion-filled eyes on his. “You.”
Sawyer closed his mouth over hers, unable to contain himself any longer.
He kissed her slowly, deliberately, until she was breathless and unsteady in his arms, then he carried her inside.
Chapter Thirteen
The next two days went quietly. Too quietly. No news. No new leads. The few times Detective Rosen called with updates, the information had changed nothing. Security footage of the hit-and-run outside the credit union confirmed the vehicle was a rental registered to Mr. Harrison, but there was no clear shot of the driver. Kate had regained consciousness and was doing much better, but she hadn’t gotten a look at the driver either. Sawyer suspected it hadn’t been Harrison behind the wheel, but considering the bank manager had been murdered, there was no way to know for sure now.
Detective Rosen had also let them know a hospital in the next town had reported a male gunshot victim. The man’s wound was consistent with one delivered by the gun Sawyer had used on the intruder sneaking through Sara’s window. Unfortunately, the shot had been a through and through, and there was no way to definitively connect that man’s injury to Sawyer’s gun. Since Sawyer never saw his face, and couldn’t identify him anyway, the man was released after providing a bogus story. The local detective was supposed to follow up with him. His blood was being sent to a lab where it would eventually be tested against the blood collected from Sara’s windowsill.
None of this got them one step closer to finding Sara, and time was marching on. Six days had passed since she’d been dragged from her home, and Sawyer still had no idea who could have done it, or where she could be. Worse, Emma had been right that first night when she’d said the odds of finding her sister would diminish significantly after the first seventy-two hours.
He reached for Emma in the dark bedroom. He’d fallen asleep with her in his arms again, feeling happier and lighter than he had in a year. He could get used to what they had going, and he was determined to ask her to stay with him once he’d returned her sister safely. Sawyer knew that rescuing Sara wouldn’t bring his fallen teammates back, but it would be a great step in regaining his peace.
Emma rolled against him, her long hair splayed over his pillow and her warm breasts pressed to his chest. He longed to take her again, but that was no surprise. He never stopped wanting her. He’d always thought the month he’d had with her when they met was perfect, but he’d been wrong. Hearing Emma tell him that she wanted him and that she was proud he was her son’s father, that was perfect.
Sawyer stroked her hair and kissed her forehead before settling back onto his pillow, smiling and thoroughly content.
Moonlight streamed across the ceiling, and he was immeasurably thankful for the rest he’d gotten these last two nights with Emma. Though he wasn’t sure what had woken him this time. Another nightmare? He didn’t think so. He couldn’t recall dreaming. Henry? Sawyer set his senses on alert and listened hard in the darkness. His son’s breaths came deep and steady through the monitor. Henry was fast asleep, but instinct tugged at Sawyer’s chest the way it had when someone had been in Emma’s house with them that night.
Sawyer rose onto his elbows and forearms, a sense of dread erasing the peace he’d had only moments before. A heartbeat later he heard it. The low growling of a small engine. Maybe even an ATV like the intruder at Emma’s house had escaped on.
Sawyer slid out of bed and dressed quickly in the darkness, listening closely to every creak, breath and heartbeat within his walls. The growl drew closer, and he cursed as an unfortunate realization struck. He hadn’t heard an ATV. He’d heard at least three.
“Emma,” he whispered, nudging her shoulder. “Wake up.”
She jolted upright, eyes glazed with fatigue. “Henry?”
“No,” Sawyer said. This was much worse. “We’ve got company.”
Emma scrambled out of bed and pulled one of his T-shirts over her head, making an instant dress that stopped midthigh. “What’s happening?”
Sawyer slid steady fingers between the panels of his bedroom curtain and peered into the night. Emma slid in front of him. Four single headlights cut through the dense and distant forest. All were headed toward Sawyer’s home. “Call the police.” Sawyer gripped Emma’s shoulders and turned her to face him. “Get Henry and hide,” he said. He snagged his sidearm from the nightstand and tucked it into his waistband, then pulled another from a drawer and kept it in his right hand.
Emma dialed and pressed the phone to her ear. “I don’t know where to hide,” she said, moving toward Henry’s crib. “I don’t know what to do.”
Sawyer dropped the curtain back into place. She had a good question. He’d never had to hide before, certainly not on his own property, and he had no idea what to tell her.
“Hello,” she said into the receiver, “this is Emma Hart, and I need help.” She rattled off an overview of the last few days with mention of the four ATVs headed their way.
Sawyer handed her the keys to the rented SUV. “Get to the truck and drive to the police station.”
“What about you?” she asked, gathering her sleeping baby and his blankets into her arms, the cell phone clenched between her shoulder and cheek.
“I can handle four men, but not while keeping an eye on the two of you. You need to stay safe. Protect Henry. I’ll focus on the intruders.”
“I’m so sick of running,” she said, frowning fiercely.
The debate was cut short when the ATVs went silent outside.
Sawyer parted the curtains again. The headlights were out, and the world was silent. They’d abandoned their vehicles. “They’re moving forward on foot,” he said, turning back to Emma once more.
<
br /> She slid into her shoes and disconnected the phone call. “Local police are on the way,” she said. “Dispatch is calling Detective Rosen for us. They’ll fill him in on what’s happening now.”
“Good work.” Sawyer ushered Emma down the hall toward his back door and pressed his back to the wall. Emma followed his example. Together, they watched a foursome of armed silhouettes drift across the lawn in the moonlight, heading for the front porch. Sawyer gave Emma a reassuring look. “I’ll take care of them. You and Henry head for the SUV,” Sawyer whispered. “Get in and drive. Don’t stop until you reach the local police precinct.”
Emma gripped his arm, unfathomable fear in her big blue eyes.
He set his hand over hers. “It’s going to be okay. Get yourself and Henry to safety.” Sawyer squeezed her fingers, then slid into the night, hating himself for leaving her behind, but it was for the best. Sawyer was well trained, but there was only one of him, and he had no idea who these men were. They could be former military or even mercenaries for all he knew. To be safe, Henry and Emma needed to get as far away as possible. The intruders had come via ATVs, which they’d left a significant distance away from the house. Even when they heard the SUV spark to life, there would be little they could do to stop it.
Sawyer jumped over the handrail at the side of the porch, steering clear of the motion sensing light, then crept around the side of his home, gun drawn.
Frogs and crickets sang in the grasses and near the lake. A sky full of stars arched overhead. The same stars he’d watched through the corner of a filthy window during the nights of his captivity. He pushed the memory aside and listened for the gentle stir of the SUV engine.
He stilled to listen as whispered voices rose to his ears. “You get the girl and the baby,” one man said. “I’ll take out the bodyguard.”
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