“Stop!” Georgia clutched onto the dashboard with one hand and the back of her seat with the other, every muscle in her body strung tight. Adrenaline numbed the pain in her midsection as the SUV rocked backward again, the tail end hitting the bridge guardrails. More metal protested, the stench of burnt rubber invading her throat and nostrils. The girls’ combined confusion and cries as they reached for her kept her in the moment, and right then she understood exactly what the other driver intended. He was trying to force the SUV off the bridge. Into Cannon River below. She couldn’t get behind the wheel. Not with Holden in the driver’s seat, and he was too heavy for her to move alone. Pressing the engine start button beside the steering wheel, she slapped her hand against the damn thing when the vehicle didn’t respond. Screw internal injuries. She braced Holden’s shoulders and shook him as hard as she could. “Holden, wake up!”
The cargo truck pulled away from the hood of the SUV, but the relief she felt died as realization hit. One second. Two. He wasn’t backing off to drive away. Georgia fell across Holden’s lap in an attempt to secure the SUV’s brakes, but she wasn’t fast enough. The truck collided with them a second time, and her stomach dropped as the SUV’s back wheels dropped over the edge of the bridge.
One more hit. That was all it would take, and it’d all be over.
Hope was strapped in a five-point harness. Could she get both of her daughters out of the vehicle fast enough before the river swallowed them whole? Georgia’s attention slid to the man she’d tried to pretend didn’t have an effect on her all these years. From the moment Holden had walked into their lives, she’d known. Known he’d protect Jack on the job, that he’d do anything he could for their family, and that… that she’d never be able to let him go. He’d become a vital part of their family, and now she was on the verge of losing him all over again.
No. Faith and Hope’s screams drowned out the shallow breaths Georgia fought to take. She wasn’t going to lose him. Not like this. And she wasn’t going to lose her daughters. The SUV teetered from hood to bumper as she unbuckled her seat belt. Shifting slowly, she did the same for Holden, then reached back for Faith’s. And froze. If they fell, would Faith survive without the belt or would she drown because Georgia couldn’t get her out fast enough? Her five-year-old’s tears glimmered in the sunlight streaming through the fogging windows. She couldn’t even see the other driver anymore. Where were the police, the fire department—anyone who could help? “Girls, I know you’re scared, but I need you to stay—”
Something in the back cargo area shifted, and panic overwhelmed rational thought. The SUV groaned a split second before the front tires lifted off the pavement. Gravity stole her breath as they plunged backward toward the river. “No!”
Georgia reached for the cracked windshield as though her will alone could keep them from falling. Her body suddenly felt lighter, then nothing but pain as the SUV met water. The vehicle bounced once before the hood fell forward with the weight of the engine, and she leveraged her feet into the floor as the windshield slipped beneath the water line. They were alive, but she had to move. Now.
“We’re okay. We’re okay.” Turning in her seat, she aggravated the stitches in her stomach, but ignored the stinging agony as she reached for Faith’s seatbelt. The belt clicked free. Freezing water flooded against her heels as she knelt in the front passenger seat. The vehicle was filling faster than she thought possible. They were running out of time, but the back end of the vehicle was still above water. “Faith, we’re going to have to break the window. You have to climb out.”
Hope’s sobs tugged at the cold fear spreading through her, but she couldn’t give in. She had to focus. Had to get them out of here. All of them. Holden worked for a security company. There had to be something—anything—in here that could get through that glass. A hammer, another kind of tool. Something. Georgia popped the glove compartment and pulled the car’s registration and manual. There. She wrapped her fingers around what looked like a metal pen but recognized the device. A spring-loaded window punch. In her next breath, she braced her daughter away from the glass as the window shattered. The water sloshed at her knees and around Holden’s hips. Faith clutched onto her blanket as she maneuvered one leg out the window, then the other. She’d taught Faith to swim, but the currents were too fast here. Any attempt to swim would sweep her daughter away. “Hang onto the car with everything you’ve got! Mommy’s coming.”
“Mommy!” Hope’s scream curdled in her ears. The water lapped at her three-year-old’s feet.
Screeching tires echoed down from the bridge, but she didn’t have time to wonder if the driver of the other vehicle was sticking around to enjoy the view. She had to get her family to safety. And that included Holden. Her fingers ached at the pressure she applied to Hope’s harness, but the damn thing wouldn’t release. The plastic had always stuck from two years’ worth of juice, spit up, and ketchup, but Georgia had hoped this time would be different. “Come on. Come on!”
Shouts cut through the pounding at the base of her skull. Help? The water was already up to her chest and to Hope’s hips. If the harness didn’t release, she wasn’t going to make it in time. Faith clutched onto the SUV’s frame, but soon, the vehicle would drag her under if she kept holding on. “Holden, wake up!”
The harness released. Georgia tugged Hope into her arms. Water circling the front of the SUV threatened to pull her under, but she was stronger than that. She glanced toward Holden, flinching at the thought of leaving him behind. “I’m coming back, Holden. I promise.”
Pushing Hope through the window, Georgia maneuvered into the backseat and followed as fast as she could before the chance for escape disappeared. Wind burned her cheeks, her hair sticking to her face. She and the girls were free.
Two people she hadn’t noticed until then jumped into the river, their hands gripped around some kind of cable. “We’re here to help!” a red-headed woman shouted over the rush of the river. “Give us the girls!”
Georgia wrapped her arms around both of her daughters, kicking to stay above water with everything she had as the sinking SUV pulled them back. The vehicle that’d rammed them off the bridge had disappeared. There was no guarantee these people weren’t partnered with the man who’d shot her or they hadn’t pushed them into the river themselves. “Please, don’t hurt them,”
“We’re running out of time.” The man with the stringy beard, similar to Holden’s, only lighter, with incredibly light eyes stretched one hand toward her, the other still holding onto the cable. Veins strained against pale skin, lean muscle advertised strength, enough to hold both of her girls at once against the current. A dog barked from the edge of the river—a Dutch or German Shephard—jumping up and down on its front paws. “You’re going to have to trust us.”
“I don’t have a visual on Holden,” the woman said.
Holden? “You’re from Blackhawk Security?”
“Yes, ma’am,” the man said. “I’ll keep the girls safe. I give you my word.”
“Take them.” Georgia didn’t have a choice. Every second she wasted fighting on her own here was another second Holden didn’t have. She had to trust these people. She couldn’t lose anyone else. Pushing Hope and Faith into the man’s arms, she relished the small bit of relief that they’d at least be out of danger. For now. Her dropping body temperature slowed her down as she swam back toward where she thought the driver’s side of the SUV had gone under, the pain in her stomach gut-wrenching, but Georgia wasn’t going to back out on her promise. She’d do whatever it took to save what was left of her family and dove beneath the current.
Chapter Four
“Do most of your cases involve your client nearly dying twice, or am I special?” she asked.
Familiarity pulled Holden out of the darkness, but not without a head rush in the process. Warmth flooded through him as he forced his eyes open. The soft glow of a fireplace filled the room and tunneled through his clothes. Holden considered the
lack of mud, dried blood, and sweat as he shifted higher on the couch then rubbed the heels of his palms into his eyes to convince himself he wasn’t dreaming. “Did you change my clothes?”
Hints of her sultry vanilla scent tickled his nose and the back of his throat as Georgia settled on the edge of the cushion beside him, and instant heat exploded under his skin. She brushed her fingertips against his forehead, and he followed the exact move when something barred her skin from his. Violent images flashed through his mind as he came in contact with medical tape and a piece of gauze, but her mesmerizing green eyes on his kept him grounded in reality. Safe. Pulling her hand back, she dropped her gaze and set both hands in her lap as though she’d done something wrong. Something he couldn’t quite put a finger on.
“Your airbag didn’t deploy after the crash.” She smoothed invisible lines from the dark leggings she hadn’t been wearing before he’d been knocked unconscious. “And I may have slammed your head against the door when I pulled you from the car, but to be clear, I was trying to save you from drowning.”
“Drowning?” Aches and bruises protested as he sat up straighter. Aside from the bandage on his head and the fresh set of clothes, he just seemed a little worse for wear. Nothing major. But Georgia had changed her clothes, too. Which meant… Hell. Holden’s throat tightened. “It was him, wasn’t it? The other driver—”
“Your team hasn’t been able to confirm who pushed us over the bridge, but that’s the leading theory, yes.” Tears welled in her eyes, and the principled, conscientious, perfectionistic therapist—the woman so terrified of making a mistake—slipped from her control. She clutched onto her side where she’d taken a bullet. So close. He’d been so close to losing her again. “Holden, we almost lost you.”
“Hey, come here.” He reached for her, wrapping her in the safety of his arms, and every nerve in his body stood at attention. This. Right here. This was what he’d been dreaming about for years, long before Jack had taken that bullet—long before Holden had destroyed Georgia’s life—and he never wanted it to end. “I told you, I’m here as long as you need me. I’m not going anywhere.” Tugging her soft, blonde hair aside, Holden dropped his forehead to her shoulder, keeping the strands between his fingers. “Please tell me the girls are okay.”
“They’re okay. They’re playing in the bedroom.” She nodded against him before pressing one palm against his chest and increased the distance between them. Sniffing, she wiped at her face with the back of her free hand. “If it wasn’t for your team, we probably wouldn’t have made it out of there alive. Sienna and Lucas are the ones who helped get Faith and Hope to safety and arranged fresh clothing and this safe house. They left us a SUV since the one we were in is currently at the bottom of the Cannon River. They even re-stitched my side.”
Thick trees and a clear blue lake fought for his attention through the large window over the kitchen sink. He hadn’t utilized this particular safe house during his time working for Blackhawk, but Holden trusted Sienna Kincaide, the head of the search and rescue division and former armed forces sergeant, and Lucas Rivera had both done their due diligence to ensure Georgia’s safety. Holden had only been working for the firm for a little more than a year, but he owed his team his life. In more ways than one. Lucas especially. Without the guy’s professional connection to Blackhawk’s resident psychologist and profiler, Holden wasn’t sure he ever would’ve found his way out of the bottom of that hollowness he’d sunken into after losing Jack and leaving the only family he’d ever had behind. Never would’ve come back into Georgia’s orbit.
If he hadn’t briefed his boss while Georgia had been in surgery and asked for backup, would they have made it out of that river alive? The answer twisted his gut. Not a chance in hell. He’d failed her. Again. Just as he’d failed Jack.
His training begged him to secure the perimeter, to clear every room, to make sure she and her little family really were safe, but her palm, still planted against his chest, kept him frozen. “You’re the one who pulled me from the vehicle, not them. You saved my life.”
“I had to get to girls out first, Holden. I’m sorry.” She slipped her hand down his sternum, trying to pull away, but he caught her fingers in his before she could throw up those barriers between them again. “I tried to get to you sooner, but the SUV was sinking so fast—”
“Don’t apologize.” Straightening, he stroked his thumb along the back of her hand and threaded his other hand through the hair at the base of her neck. “You did exactly the right thing. You saved their lives and then my life, just after surviving a gunshot wound. They’re the priority.”
“I can’t explain how. I just…couldn’t lose you again. You’re too important to us.” She lifted that striking green gaze to his, and the sense of uselessness faded. “You always have been. I’ve tried to pretend you aren’t. These feelings I have…” Her attention lowered to a point on his shirt. “I was so angry you left, Holden, but a part of me was relieved, too. I loved Jack, more than anything, and I miss him every day he’s not here, but I feel like there’s always been this connection between you and me.” She raised her eyes to his. “Having you near me with Jack gone hurt, not because of what happened with his murder. Because whatever’s here between us. I never had to think about what it’d be like for you to fill the void Jack left in my heart. But now, after everything that’s happened, after you came back for us… I can’t pretend. I want—”
Holden crushed his mouth to hers, and the world dropped out from under him. The shooting, the pain, the fear… None of it mattered as he reveled in everything he’d dreamed since the day he’d walked into Georgia’s life. Her fingers fisted in his shirt, spurring him past the seam of her lips. Hints of mint and vanilla played across his tongue, and he couldn’t get enough. Ever. Not of her. Not of this. Not of her perfect family and determination to help anyone and everyone she could.
But he couldn’t forget what he’d done. Holden pulled back, their exhales intermingling. Whatever the future held for them—if they had one at all—she had to know the truth. He couldn’t lie to her anymore. He slipped her hair back behind her ear, the smooth skin of her cheek catching on his calluses. “Georgia, before this goes any further, I need to tell you about the night Jack was shot.”
Apprehension etched deep into her expression, chasing back the desire that’d been in her eyes mere moments ago. Desire for him. “We don’t have to talk about—”
“Yes, we do.” He squeezed her hand on his chest, then let her go before he lifted his gaze to hers. “Because I’m the reason he died that night.”
*
She… She didn’t understand. The director of Holden and Jack’s division had told her exactly what’d happened that night. Georgia licked her suddenly dry lips, tasting him all over again. She’d kissed her husband’s partner, the man she’d considered one of her closest friends over the years. And he wanted her to believe he was responsible for Jack’s death? Holden Marsten was one of the most intense, isolated, defensive men she’d ever met, but he was also committed to saving as many lives as he could, extremely protective, and strong. From working for the FBI to finding and protecting his clients for Blackhawk Security now, he’d proven over and over how much he’d cared about the people he was assigned to protect. Including her and the girls.
Her pulse hiked as she wrapped her hand around his. She’d worked with trauma survivors, clients who suffered from the worst stages of PTSD after losing fellow soldiers on the battlefield overseas. Underneath the mental torment and loss of control as they were swept into reliving that same gruesome moment over and over, guilt festered, an infectious wound that’d convinced them they could’ve prevented the event from happening at all. No matter how many times, no matter how much evidence, she’d presented to the contrary. Her heart—and the gunshot wound to her lower abdominals—ached at the thought Holden had carried this weight for so long. Was that why he’d left? Because he blamed himself for what’d happened to her husban
d?
“Holden, I know it probably feels like you’re responsible, but you weren’t. The man out there, the one who just tried to kill us in those woods and on the bridge? He’s the one who shot Jack. He pulled the trigger. Not you. And there’s nothing you could’ve done—”
“I could’ve saved him.” His voice graveled, and for an instant, Georgia didn’t recognize the anguished, tortured man in front of her.
“What are you talking about?” she asked.
“You’re right. The bastard coming for you now is the one who pulled the trigger that night.” Tension strained across his mountainous shoulders and deepened the lines around his eyes and mouth, a rawness and animalistic vulnerability she’d never seen in him before centered entirely on her. “But I’m the one who made the decision to go after the shooter instead of getting Jack the help he needed that night.”
Air crushed from her lungs. She let her hand slip from Holden’s as she stood. Her heels wobbled in the plush carpeting in front of the fireplace, her body suddenly too hot. Georgia fought to stay upright, to keep her head on straight as his words registered, but her knees threatened to give out from under her. “You… You left him alone?”
Her stomach soured. On the nights her hand had slipped to Jack’s side of the bed, she’d always imagined his partner doing whatever he could to keep her husband alive. Applying pressure, yelling at Jack to hold on until help arrived, telling him how much Georgia and the girls loved him. In those moments, she’d been grateful her husband had had someone to be there with him during his last moments, someone watching over him and assuring him everything would be okay, but it’d all been a lie. And nobody—not Holden, not his boss, not the EMTs—had told her otherwise. Until now.
“I had to make a choice, Georgia.” Holden swung his feet over the edge of the couch, wincing in pain before shoving to stand. “I couldn’t let the son of a bitch get away with what he’d done. I couldn’t take the chance he wasn’t finished—”
Search and Defend Page 3