* * *
“CELIA...”
Her eyes opened. The faintest streaks of light drifted through the window.
“Not...her...”
She pushed up in the bed. She was pretty much sprawled on top of Sullivan, and she winced, ready to apologize, when she realized—
His eyes were still closed. He was talking in his sleep again. Saying her name.
She eased a bit away from him as her gaze swept over him.
“Let me go!” Sullivan suddenly yelled out.
Celia jerked back.
“Have to get...Celia!”
“Sully?” she whispered as she reached out to him. “It’s okay, I’m right—”
“Have to make...her pay...”
There was such fury in his words.
Pain knifed through her, but her fingers gently stroked his shoulder. I’ve paid more than you know. For crimes that hadn’t even been her own. “It’s okay,” she said again, keeping her voice soft.
“Celia...”
Her hand stilled. There hadn’t been fury in that one word. There had been longing.
Her eyes stung.
“Love,” he whispered. His hands had fisted around the covers. “Love...Celia...”
She almost fell out of the bed. One moment he was raging against her, and the next—declaring his love? Not possible, of course. Sullivan was just trapped in some twisted nightmare. She needed to wake him up. He didn’t love her.
Did he?
Her hand curled around his shoulder and she lightly shook him.
He jerked beneath her touch and grabbed for her. In a flash, he had rolled her beneath him and pinned her hands on either side of her head.
And this is why you don’t wake up a person in the middle of a nightmare...especially if that person is a tough ex-marine...
“Hi, there,” Celia whispered softly. “Remember me?” She offered him a gentle smile when he blinked blearily down at her. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Celia.” He immediately released her and sat up in bed. “Baby, I’m sorry, I was—”
“Dreaming.”
“Reliving hell.”
She sat up, too, grabbing for the sheet to cover her chest. “That hell you were reliving...you called my name.”
He climbed from the bed. He turned on the light and dressed, his movements jerky as he yanked on a pair of jeans. Then he stilled, pausing near the side of the bed as his gaze lingered on her. “I usually call your name in my sleep.”
Because you still blame me? Or because you love me? She licked her lips. “Want to talk about what happens?”
“I’m back in that pit. They’re slicing me open and I can’t get away.”
Yes, definitely the stuff of nightmares. “I’m sorry.”
“They’re telling me that you’re involved. That you sold me out.”
She didn’t move.
“And then...” He expelled a rough breath. “Then it changes and gets all twisted. Because they’re saying they are going to hurt you. That they’re going to kill you, and I know I can’t let that happen.”
“They...threatened me?” He’d never told her that before.
Sullivan shook his head. “That just happens in my dreams. My worst nightmares.” He edged even closer to the bed, and his hand curled under her jaw. “Because that is my worst fear, you see. Something happening to you.”
“Why?” She needed him to say the words. While he was awake. Fully aware. Staring into her eyes. After everything that had happened between them, she had to hear those precious words.
“Because I love you. More than anything else. And I can’t lose you.”
She leaped from the bed. Celia wrapped her arms around him and held on as tightly as she could. “I love you,” she whispered.
His hands locked around her. The grip almost too tight. “Celia?”
“I love you. I never stopped loving you.” Though she’d tried. But the emotion had lingered within her and when they’d been pushed back together, it had flared to life again, stronger, deeper than ever before. “Why do you think I took so many risks? Why do you think I worked so hard to unearth the truth about your past?”
She eased back a bit and stared up at his face. She’d never seen that expression in Sullivan’s eyes before.
Hope. So much hope. Enough to break her heart.
“I wanted to give you the one thing you wanted most...because I loved you so much.”
But Sullivan shook his head. “You’re the thing that matters most. It’s you, I just realized the truth too late.”
“It’s not too late.” Not for them. Not for what could be. “It’s not.”
“You’re too damn good for me,” he gritted out. “I made so many mistakes...”
“We can start again. We have started again.” She smiled up at him and laughed. “We can do anything.”
His gaze swept slowly over her face. “I missed that sound. So much.”
Her laughter faded away.
“Your laugh is the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. Just the memory of it got me through too many dark nights.”
“You don’t need a memory any longer,” she said, her heart feeling as if it were about to burst right out of her chest. “You have me. We can make everything work. Together, we can do this. We’ll stop the killer. We’ll put the past to rest and we’ll have the future that we want.”
Together...
His head lowered and she leaned eagerly forward, wanting to feel the crush of his lips against hers. Their lips nearly touched. She could nearly taste him.
And someone was pounding on the door. Knocking so hard. Totally and completely ruining the moment.
“My brothers,” Sullivan growled. “They must have seen me turn on the light. I swear, they all have the worst damn timing.”
She laughed again, unable to help herself. She just felt happy, even if they had been interrupted. He loves me. “It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere, Sullivan. We have nothing but time.” She eased away from him. “Go answer the door. I’ll get dressed.” The smile just wouldn’t stay off her lips. He loves me. He loves me!
But Sullivan didn’t move. “I want the danger over. I want to find the shooter and make sure he’s locked away so that he can’t hurt anyone again.” His fingers slid down her cheek. “You’re in this mess because of me.”
No, she was involved because of the choices she’d made.
“There’s something else you should know...” His voice had deepened. “A call came through while you slept. I’m sorry, baby, but Alexandra didn’t make it.”
For an instant, she couldn’t breathe. Pain knifed through her, so sharp and deep.
“We will get the bastard.”
Celia gave a grim nod. He has to pay. For all the lives he’s destroyed. He must pay!
The pounding grew more insistent.
“Dammit...” His fingers fell away. “Let me go find out what the hell is going on out there...”
She watched him walk away. Sullivan. Her Sullivan.
At the bedroom door, he paused and looked back. “I meant what I said before, Celia. Only I should have given you those words long ago. I love you.”
Then he headed out.
For an instant, she just stood there. Then she wiped away the tear that had fallen down her cheek. Alexandra. The grief wanted to pound through her, consume her, but she couldn’t let it. Not now.
She squared her shoulders. Took a deep breath. Pushed past the pain.
I’m so sorry, Alexandra.
Her eyes kept burning as she hurried toward the closet. When would the death stop? The fear? How much longer would it go on?
Celia dressed quickly, pulling a pair of old jeans and a shirt from the closet. Then she shoved up the skirt on the bed. She’d seen another pair of tennis shoes under the bed the other day. Those shoes had to be more comfortable than the ones she’d been given at the police station. She snagged the shoes from under the bed, put them on and then—
/> Something else was under the bed.
Frowning, she eased down a bit more as her eyes narrowed. She could see the glowing digits of a clock beneath the bed.
That clock hadn’t been there before.
Why would a clock be under the bed? The question pierced through the grief she felt.
And her heart stopped. No, that wasn’t a clock. Goose bumps immediately rose on her arms.
The digits on that device were counting down so quickly. A small box, with wires coming out the top and those numbers flashing on the top...
A bomb. Dear God. It’s a bomb. Hidden under the bed, where no one should have seen it, not until it was too late.
Terror exploded within her.
* * *
SULLIVAN YANKED OPEN the guesthouse door. “Seriously, stop that damn pounding!”
Davis didn’t look particularly concerned about his snarl. His brother just raised his eyebrows. “So sorry, bro. Didn’t mean to disturb your beauty sleep with the little matter of a life-and-death situation. My bad.”
Behind him, Monroe Blake grunted.
Sullivan leaned against the door frame. “Give me ten minutes, and then Celia and I will meet you up at the—”
“Run!”
His head snapped back at Celia’s shout. He glanced over his shoulder.
“Get out!” she said as she rushed toward him.
“What the hell?” Davis demanded.
“There’s a bomb under the bed!”
No, that wasn’t possible. They had the best security imaginable—
She grabbed his arm and yanked Sullivan out of the door.
Monroe and Davis were already running up ahead.
“It had five minutes left on the timer,” Celia panted out. “Five minutes!”
If his brother hadn’t come pounding on the door, they’d still be in the guesthouse. In the bedroom. They’d be—dead?
They ran toward the bluff, but halfway there, Sullivan stopped.
Celia was still holding his arm, so she staggered to a stop, too.
“Sullivan!” Her eyes were so wide. “You didn’t see that thing—it is going to destroy that guesthouse! We have to get away.”
But his mind was whirling. “Someone got on our property.” He didn’t doubt Celia’s words, not for an instant. He was never going to doubt her again. “If he got to the guesthouse, he could’ve gotten to the main house, too.” His gaze flew toward the main house.
“Brodie’s in there,” Davis yelled. “Jennifer and Jamie—they’re inside!”
Horror washed through Sullivan and he tore off after his brother, rushing as fast as he could for the main house. Maybe there wasn’t just one bomb. Maybe the killer had placed more around the ranch.
Five minutes. That wasn’t long enough. He had to get his family to safety.
Five minutes. Five damn minutes.
Celia was racing to keep up with him. Davis and Monroe were both hurtling toward the main ranch house.
Home. Family. Life. He’d been tied to this place for so long. It couldn’t go up in flames like this. He couldn’t let it happen.
How did he get in? How did he get past all our security?
Davis didn’t stop at the door to the ranch house. He kicked the thing in and roared, “Jamie! Jamie!” There was terror in his voice as he bellowed his wife’s name.
Sullivan bounded into the house after him.
“What’s wrong?” Brodie demanded as he rushed out of the hallway. Jennifer was at his side, her hand clutching her robe. “What’s happening?”
“Get out of the house!” Sullivan yelled at them.
Davis had run in search of his wife.
“There’s a bomb in the guesthouse,” Celia shouted. “There could be one here, too. We have to go!”
And Davis was running back. He had Jamie in his arms, holding her tight. She looked stunned and scared and—
“Is anyone else in the house?” Monroe demanded.
They were all rushing for the door.
“No one else,” Brodie yelled as he pushed Jennifer in front of him. “Just us.”
How much time had passed? How much damn time?
They were outside now. Running fast and frantically toward the bluff. Part of Sullivan was waiting for the heat of the blast to wash over him. And another part of him...he feared that bullets would rip out and hit him. This would be the perfect time to attack. While they ran. While there was no cover and—
Boom.
The blast shook the earth all around them and flames rushed into the sky.
And those flames were blazing when the first shot was fired.
Chapter Twelve
“Get down!” Sullivan bellowed. It was just as he’d feared. The guy who’d set that bomb was close by, waiting to pick off any survivors.
Now they were all out in the open, with no weapons, sitting ducks for the killer who waited in the woods.
Brodie grabbed Jennifer and yanked her behind the branches of the sprawling tree.
Davis curled his body around Jamie, and they hit the ground, staying as low as they could for cover.
Monroe was right beside Sullivan, and they were both hurrying to reach Celia. That first shot had lodged in a tree just inches away from her head. The second shot could come at any moment.
Celia spun toward Sullivan. Her eyes were wild, frantic, and she lunged toward him, her arms outstretched as if she could reach him.
He saw the bullet hit her. Time seemed to slow down as the blood soaked her shirt. The boom of the gunfire was distant. Everything was distant.
Celia was calling his name.
He grabbed for her, held her tight. “Baby, no!” He fell to the ground, covering her with his body because there was nowhere else to go. Staying low was their best chance of survival.
She trembled beneath him.
His heart shattered.
But then—
Gunfire. Blasting. Not gunfire that had been aimed at them, but...
His head turned. Monroe had drawn his gun and was firing into the trees—right at the spot where the shooter must have been hiding. The direction and the angle were right based on Celia’s wound.
That bastard shot her!
And now Davis had joined Monroe in the gun battle. Hell, yes, both men were armed and firing—giving the others cover so they could run for better protection.
“Stables!” Brodie snarled.
Right. It seemed as though there would be less of a chance that the stables would be wired to blow, but, hell, Sullivan didn’t know for certain. He just had to get Celia out of the line of fire.
He scooped her up into his arms. Davis and Monroe blasted out their shots, moving with Sullivan and shielding the group as best they could.
“Hold on, Celia,” Sullivan urged her. “Baby, you’re going to be okay.”
Then they were rushing into the stables. The smell of fresh hay permeated the air, and the horses neighed nervously.
Davis yanked the big doors closed behind him.
And Sullivan gently lowered Celia to the ground.
“I’m okay,” she said. She even tried to smile up at him. “It’s just a flesh wound.”
They’d promised not to lie to each other again. But he stared into her beautiful eyes and said, “Just a flesh wound. Nothing to slow you down.”
Then, carefully, he pulled back her shirt.
His breath expelled in a rush as he examined her. And relief nearly made him dizzy. It was a flesh wound. One that was bleeding far too much, but nothing vital had been hit.
“Mark will see the flames,” Brodie said. He and Jennifer were close by. “His men will notice the smoke, and they’ll come running.”
Yes, Sullivan knew that was true. Mark Montgomery was their closest neighbor. And Ava—she’d be with her husband when he rushed over to investigate the flames.
Would the shooter be waiting for them, too?
“Call them,” Sullivan ordered curtly. “They can’t come here blindly!” H
e didn’t want his sister walking into an ambush.
Davis already had his phone out.
“I’m okay,” Celia said to him once more.
His hand sank into her hair and he leaned close to her. He kissed her then—deep, hard and fast. “If you hadn’t been, I would have gone insane.” A simple fact. He needed her to function. When he’d seen the blood, fear and fury nearly maddened him—
I need Celia.
Behind him, he heard Monroe talking into his phone, too. The cavalry would be coming—local cops, government officials. Hell, maybe all of them. But the shooter was always two steps ahead...
“He’s going to vanish again,” Celia said quietly. Her face had paled, but her eyes burned with her usual fierce passion. “If we don’t stop him, he’ll vanish...and come back again.”
He knew she was right.
Celia locked her jaw and started to rise.
Sullivan pushed her right back down. “Hell, no, baby. Hell, no.”
“But I can—”
“You can fight the world, I know it. But this time, for me...don’t.” Because she was already wounded. And she was his world. He couldn’t stand any additional risks to her. “Stay here. I know this land. I can find him.”
“How the hell did he even get on our property?” Brodie wanted to know. “We installed the security system—there is no way he could just have snuck past our safeguards without setting off an alarm.”
It would seem the guy was just as familiar with the land as they were.
And once more, he thought of what Ronald had said... “Family,” he whispered.
“What in the hell does that mean?” Monroe snapped, his eyes gleaming. “Look, I get that you all are tight, but there is one very skilled killer out there. He’s taken out trained agents, and now he has us pinned down. For all we know, these stables could be set to blow any minute. Maybe we didn’t escape into them...maybe he deliberately corralled us in here. Maybe he’s just waiting. No timer this time, but a bomb he sets to explode.”
The bastard could be planning anything.
Sullivan’s gaze slid back to Celia. Gently, he brushed back her hair. He had to keep her safe. He had to protect Celia and the rest of his family.
“We need dogs,” Celia said. Her breath seemed to come faster, harder. “Bomb-sniffing dogs to search the entire ranch.”