Raid

Chapter Twenty Clean

Raid

Two weeks later…

Raid walked ahead of Marcus Sloan’s two men who had met him outside and were pushing the cuffed fugitive Raid captured into the warehouse.

As Raid and the men moved, Sloan stood in the warehouse, watching.

Sloan was a dark-haired, good-looking, very dangerous man wearing an expensive, well-cut suit.

Sloan was also a new client.

His eyes moved from Raid to the men behind him.

“Jesus,” he murmured and looked back at Raid. “What happened?”

Raid knew what he was asking. The fugitive didn’t look too good. This was due to two black eyes, a fat lip and a swollen, broken nose.

“It took two days longer than I wanted it to take to find him. He became a bigger pain in my ass when I found him by attempting to evade capture, so he learned what it feels like to have his face slammed into a dresser,” Raid answered matter-of-factly.

Marcus Sloan didn’t even wince.

“Not a pleasant lesson,” he stated quietly then jerked his chin to the men behind Raid.

They dragged the fugitive to a door off to the side and Raid knew the fugitive was about to learn another unpleasant lesson.

“I’ll want those cuffs back,” Raid called after them and he got a curt nod from one before the three disappeared behind the door. He looked back at Sloan. “Got somewhere to be. You got something for me?”

“Of course,” Sloan answered and moved to a table on which a black duffel was sitting.

Raid moved there, too. He grabbed the handles and hefted up the bag.

“Nuisance,” Sloan stated and Raid’s eyes went to him. “Acquiring that amount of cash,” he explained, tipping his head to the duffel. “We could do direct deposit.”

“No offense, Marcus, but your shit isn’t exactly tight,” Raid replied. “I run a cash only business. You know I gotta be careful what line items I got on my accounts.”

“And you know my business is tight,” Sloan returned.

“Not as tight as mine,” Raid said.

Sloan’s lips quirked before he murmured, “This is true.”

Raid didn’t have time for this. If he left now, in an hour and a half he could be home with Hanna.

Still, when he pulled the handles of the duffel over his shoulder, he studied Sloan, and in case things he should know but didn’t made things messy, he was forced to ask, “Not my business, but you wanna tell me why you’re contacting me and not Nightingale to do this shit for you?”

“Things with Lee have become complicated,” Sloan answered.

Raid kept studying him, suspecting that was true.

Lee Nightingale and the boys of Nightingale Investigations were on retainer to Marcus Sloan for a variety of purposes.

Unfortunately for Sloan, his wife became tight with not only Nightingale’s wife, but all the women who belonged to his crew. And if that wasn’t enough, part of that crew included two cops and their women.

Something a man like Sloan would wish to avoid.

And, considering how Sloan felt about his wife, Raid could see him adjusting business practices in order to keep her relationship with her posse healthy.

Messy for Sloan, not messy for Raid.

Therefore acceptable.

“Right,” Raid muttered before he cocked his head to the side and finished, “Appreciate the business.”

He was about to turn to leave when Sloan locked eyes with him and remarked, “Enjoy your welcome home from Hanna.”

Raid’s body strung tight.

“Come again?” he asked low, and Sloan shook his head.

“Don’t mistake me,” he said quietly.

“You want me to ask after Daisy?” Raid queried, returning the perceived threat and referring to Sloan’s wife, a woman Raid did not know personally, but a woman Raid and everyone in Denver did know Marcus Sloan would not only change business practices for, but he’d also kill and die for.

“That was not my point,” Sloan told him.

“I suggest you make your point,” Raid demanded.

“It’s a lovely town you live in, Miller, but you don’t get there through your personal magical door no one else can get through,” Sloan replied.

“You think I don’t know this?” Raid returned.

Marcus Sloan held his eyes then stated, “I’m happy for you. It would be easy for you to go the way of Deacon. Lose yourself in the job, feel nothing, want nothing, get up and exist through the day doing what you have to do then go to bed with nothing to look forward to when you wake up in the morning. The walking dead with handcuffs and brass knuckles, existing until your luck ended or your skills dulled and the hunter became the hunted. Instead, you found something better. Now you have something in your life that’s important, something you didn’t have before. My point is, take advice from someone who’s lived the life much longer than you. Take measures to ensure her protection.”

Since Nick Sebring’s visit, this was something that had been weighing heavily on Raid’s mind.

His crew, however, were constantly out on jobs.

He needed to make a priority of getting them all free for long enough for a sit down. The longer he stayed in the job, the more enemies he could make. He needed a man in Willow at all times to keep an eye on things.

It wasn’t only Hanna. It was his mother, Rachelle and Miss Mildred.

The time had come.

“Point taken,” Raid muttered.

The door opened and one of Sloan’s men came out. He walked close enough to toss Raid’s cuffs to him. Raid caught them and the man moved back to the room, shutting the door behind him.

Raid shoved the cuffs in his belt at the back of his cargoes and looked at Sloan. “We done with our counseling session?”

Sloan gave him an amused smile and nodded.

Raid moved toward the exit.

“No, actually, I’m not,” Sloan called after him.

Raid stopped and looked back, brows raised.

“Hopefully, it won’t happen. If it does, more advice. Make a statement, Raid. Make a statement no one can miss. Am I being clear?” Sloan asked.

He was, and Raid didn’t like what he was being clear about.

“Nothing’s gonna happen to Hanna,” Raid rumbled.

“No, likely not, but if it does, pray for her strength. But make your statement clear,” Sloan shot back.

Raid’s blood ran cold.

“You know something I don’t know?” he asked sharply.

“I know this life. You’re the man I think you are, you now have a new number one priority. See to making sure everyone knows exactly what that is and what you’d do if they don’t take that seriously.”

Jesus, the man had another point.

Raid didn’t concede it this time.

He clipped, “Now are we done?”

Sloan nodded.

Raid moved again toward the door, and while he did he heard a man’s chilling, agonized cry.

As he always did, Raid just kept walking.

Hanna

“I’m going, Grams!” I shouted as I hustled down the hall.

I went through the backdoor, pushing back the screen door that Raiden had put the storm window in the week before, the day before he left on a job, and saw her sitting outside under one of my afghans.

She turned to me.

“When does he get home, child?” she asked and I smiled at her.

“He called an hour ago saying he’d be home in an hour and a half.”

“Then you get home to your man, chère. Tell him I said, ‘hey’.”

“I’ll tell him,” I assured her then asked, “Do you want me to help you inside?”

She looked to the waning sun. “Gonna stay out a while longer.”

“Grams—”

She looked to me. “Just a while longer, precious. I’ll be okay. Eunice is coming over later.” She waved her hand at me. “Shoo. Get on that bike of yours and go home.”

I smiled again, dashed to her, gave her a kiss on her wrinkled cheek then dashed back to the house calling, “See you later!”

“Tell that boy I expect to see him for church on Sunday!” she called back.

“Will do!” I yelled.

I threw open the front door, the storm door that again Raiden had put the storm windows in and then I felt a whiz at my feet. I looked down and saw Spot run-waddling out.

“What the—?” I snapped, following him only to see him jump on a chair, the railing and into the basket of my bike that I really needed to put up for the winter.

Crazy cat.

“Inside, Spot,” I ordered.

“Meow,” he defied me, settling his fat booty in my basket, demanding a ride.

I hurried down the stairs, picked him up and he lost it, writhing and hissing until I could hold him no longer. I dropped him back in the basket, having to grab onto the bike to hold it steady when he went in.

He sat on his behind, looked up at me and said, “Meow.”

“I need to get home, buddy.”

“Meow.”

“My man’s coming home.”

He pointed his face to the driveway.

Gah!

I didn’t have time for this!

I ran back to the house, threw open the door and shouted, “Spot feels like a ride! Raid will bring him back later!”

“Righty ho!” Grams shouted back.

So that was where I got it.

I grinned to myself, raced back to my bike, mounted and threw back the kickstand. Putting my feet to the pedals, we were off.

“You’re going to have to explain to Raiden why he has to leave our bed and bring you home,” I informed Spot.

“Meow,” he replied to the wind blowing in his face, unafraid of badass Raiden Miller as only Spot would be.

We rode home. I stopped at the front and hefted him out of the basket. He crawled up to get paws on my shoulder and started purring as I walked up the steps.

I grinned.

Totally a crazy cat.

I pulled out my keys, opened my screen door that had storm windows, too, ditto with Raid putting them in. A fat cat in my arm, the storm door resting on my behind, I inserted the key in lock one, turned it and it didn’t do anything.

It was unlocked.

“Didn’t I—?” I started to ask the doorknob when it turned.

The door was thrown open, my hand was caught in a vice-like grip, and on a terrified scream Spot and I were pulled inside.

For the next ten minutes I felt a lot of terror.

And a lot of pain.

This was because in the foyer of my childhood home I got the shit beaten out of me by three men with one man watching.

The only thing that I processed outside the fear and pain was Spot hissing then his agonized, “Muuuuurrrrroooowww!” when he was kicked into the living room.

Finally down and almost out, on my belly, unable to move, pain searing through my insides as I coughed up blood, my arm useless and broken under me, my head was pulled back by my hair.

I gave out a tortured whimper at the additional pain and tried to force myself to focus on the man who was in my face.

“Just so you know, Heather gave you up after she watched us put a bullet in Bodhi’s brain,” he told me.

Oh God.

Oh God.

Banana, I heard Bodhi’s voice in my head.

The pain so immense, physical and now emotional, my head swimming, my eyes drifting open and shut, I was going to pass out. I wanted it. I needed it.

But he wasn’t done.

“I don’t like to lose money. You made me lose money. Now we’re square.”

He slammed my head into the rug.

And when he did, thankfully, I lost consciousness.

My eyes drifted open.

Something was happening.

I was in agony, head to toes.

I needed to get to a phone.

I needed the black back.

Something shifted at my side as I heard the backdoor open.

I tensed, my mouth opening to call out, then closing.

They wouldn’t come back.

Would they come back?

I scuttled and something scuttled with me.

Spot was pressed to my side.

I could scuttle no more. It hurt too much. Way too much.

I stopped.

“Hanna!” I heard called.

It was Raid. He was probably wondering why I didn’t rush to greet him like I usually did.

My mouth opened.

My eyes drifted closed.

“Jesus, fuck!” I heard barked.

I felt movement, heard boots on floor, a cat’s hiss, another one, a furry body shifting, thumping, striking, more hissing then, “Fuckin’ cat! Hanna.”

My hair was shifted off my neck.

My eyes fluttered.

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.”

A hand moving on me.

“Baby, are you with me?”

My eyes fluttered again.

“Fuck me… yeah, this is Raiden Miller. I’m at 10 Hunter Lane. My woman’s been attacked, beaten badly, she’s barely conscious. I need an ambulance.” Pause then I felt him close. “Hanna, baby, you with me?”

I tried to flutter my eyes.

But it all went black.

My eyes drifted open.

It was dark, but there was muted light and I didn’t understand the smells I was experiencing. I also didn’t understand the wooziness I was feeling.

“Baby.”

My eyes drifted to the side and I saw Raiden there.

“Hey.”

My lips hurt.

Why was that?

Raiden’s face got closer which was good. That meant I didn’t have to expend so much effort focusing on it.

“You’re gonna be okay,” he told me.

“Okay.”

My voice was strange. It was quiet, weak and hoarse.

I didn’t see his hand move, but I felt him tuck my hair behind my ear.

That felt nice.

“You’re gonna be all right,” he assured me.

“Okay,” I whispered again in that voice.

“I’m gonna take care of this,” he promised.

I had no idea what he was talking about, but I replied with another, “Okay.”

His eyes closed then I could really focus on him when his forehead came to rest gently on mine.

He had great eyelashes.

“I love you, honey,” he said, low and fierce.

“I love you, too,” I told him, losing focus, my eyes slowly closing and reopening.

“I’m gonna take care of this,” he repeated his vow.

“Okay, sweetheart,” I replied, my eyes slowly closing and staying that way.

I felt the brush of his lips on mine.

Then I felt nothing.

I opened my eyes to sun then I blinked.

At what I took in, I pushed up the hospital bed, everything hitting me at once.

My arm in a cast. Pain in my ribs. My face. A concentration of pain at my upper lip.

No.

Pain everywhere. Dull pain, but it was there.

Everywhere.

And three big men I’d never seen standing around my bed.

Oh God!

“Told you you’d freak her,” a woman’s voice stated, and around the big man to my right, who had brown hair and a wicked scar on his face but was nevertheless extremely hot, came a pretty, petite blonde woman holding an adorable baby boy to her hip.

Her eyes hit mine. “Yo, I’m Sylvie Creed.”

This meant nothing to me and my hand inched toward the call button.

Her eyes didn’t miss this so she kept talking, jerking her head to the dark-haired man with unusual blue eyes standing to my left. “That’s Knight Sebring.”

Knight.

Knight was Raiden’s buddy.

My eyes went to him and my hand stopped.

“Least she knows you,” Sylvie muttered toward Knight, and an unbelievably beautiful woman came around his side and looked down at me with a small smile.

Then she said in a soft, calming voice, “Hi, Hanna. I’m Anya, Knight’s woman, and you’re safe. Okay?”

Not okay.

Nothing was okay.

Or nothing would be okay until I knew where my man was.

Because I remembered. I remembered everything. All of it. And as bad as what happened to me in my foyer was, it was worse with Raiden vowing he was going to take care of it.

I had a feeling with what he did to Meg (and he did do what he said he was going to do to Meg, the last thing I heard, she’d moved to Denver, mostly because she had no choice), since this was way worse, he was going to take care of this.

So I asked Anya, “Where’s Raiden?”

“That’s what we need to talk to you about,” she told me.

I did not take this as good.

“First, as Sylvie said, this is Knight,” she motioned to the man at her side and he jerked his chin up at me. “That’s Tucker Creed, he’s married to Sylvie,” Anya went on, motioning to the man with the scar. I looked to him and he gave me a small smile. “And that’s Deacon,” she concluded.

My eyes flew to the end of the bed to take in the extortionately good-looking, tall, dark-haired, scary man there.

“Looks like she knows you too,” Sylvie noted.

“I’m pleased to meet you all,” I cut in. “But where’s Raiden?”

“Hunting,” scary, hot guy at the foot of my bed grunted, and my heart started beating hard.

Or harder.

“Hunting?” I whispered.

“Yesterday,” Knight spoke gently and my eyes cut to him, “you were assaulted in your home by a man we’re looking for. You have a broken ulna, six broken ribs, a concussion and two stitches in your lip that the doctors say will dissolve and you’ll barely notice the scar. You’ll be under observation here at least until tomorrow and you’ll endure a recuperation period, but the doctors have assured your family that you’ll make a complete recovery. There’s no lasting damage.”

Except for the broken arm, ribs, barely noticeable scar, mild head injury and recuperation period and the news that my “family” was out there, probably worried like crazy about me, my ninety-eight year old Grams amongst them, that all sounded a lot better than what happened to me felt.

But I had bigger fish to fry.

“Okay,” I said softly. “But what does hunting mean?”

“You know your man, babe.” This came from Tucker Creed, and he was also speaking gently. “You know what it means.”

He was right. I knew what it meant.

Oh God.

I looked frantically to Knight. “You have to stop him. Stop him from doing something that might get him in trouble. Stop him from doing something he can’t live with.”

“He’ll be able to live with this,” Deacon’s voice rumbled up from my feet, and my eyes moved to him.

“Don’t let him do this,” I begged Deacon, his mentor, a man he trusted.

“Woman, we’re here to find out how to help him,” Deacon told me, and I stared.

“We need to find him, Hanna,” Sylvie Creed said, and my eyes moved to her. “Find him, calm him down and find these guys who did his to you. You need to help us.”

Okay, calming him down sounded good.

“Tell us everything you know,” Tucker Creed ordered.

Darn.

“I don’t know anything,” I told him.

“No, honey, everything you saw, everything they said, everything you can remember,” he clarified.

I shook my head. “I… they set on me fast and I…”

Sylvie (and her cute baby) leaned into me and she wrapped her hand carefully around my cast. “We dig this can’t be easy, not this soon after it happened, but as they say, time is of the essence. Anything you remember could help, Hanna. I know it sounds crazy, but even what shoes they were wearing could help. An accent you heard in their voices.”

My eyes widened, she saw it and leaned in.

“Talk to me, girl,” she urged.

I talked.

They asked questions.

I answered them and talked more.

Then they were done, and I knew this because they all looked at each other and Anya shifted around the bed.

“Give me Jesse, Sylvie,” she said.

Sylvie handed Jesse to Anya, leaned in and kissed her son before she ran a finger down his cheek then she turned and looked down at me.

“We’ll find your man and it’ll all be good. I promise, Hanna.”

I nodded. She nodded back, turned, tipped her head back to her man and she started to move. Tucker Creed moved with her.

I lunged, pain shot through me, but my hand clamped onto Knight’s.

He stopped and looked down at me.

Really unusual blue eyes. Startling.

“Hanna?” he prompted.

“Don’t let him do anything he can’t live with,” I whispered. “He lives with enough. He doesn’t need more. Not because of me.”

“What happened to you is because of me,” Knight returned, and my brows drew together in confusion. “So Raid won’t be takin’ care of this sick fuck. That’ll be me.” He caught my eyebrow movement and finished, “In other words, don’t worry.”

That seemed pretty firm.

Still.

“I’m trusting you,” I told him.

His hand twisted until it was holding mine and he bent close.

“That means something to me,” he stated low.

Then he let me go, moved back and he was gone.

That was it.

Seriously?

“If he says it means something, seriously, it means something,” Anya told me, and my eyes went to her to see her bouncing Jesse on her hip.

“Did I just get surrounded by a pack of hot guys and a petite woman who is clearly badass who are all off to hunt my man, who’s off hunting the man that had three of his goons beat the dickens out of me?”

She grinned and answered, “Yes.”

I settled back on a “humph” then kept grumbling. “You know, when Raiden entered my life, I knew something huge was happening. I was not wrong, seeing as the foundations of my world have shifted about a dozen times. Most of it was good, but I have to admit, I’m kind of getting sick of it,” I shared and she smiled.

Then she said, “You’ll get used to it.”

I stared at her.

Great.

Then she turned her head and cooed at cute, little Jesse.

Watching that, I sighed, thinking that maybe I would.

Then I went straight back to worrying.

Raid

Three weeks later…

They all stood in the dark parking lot of the Pancake House to touch base before they disbursed after finally taking care of the guy responsible for attacking Hanna and Knight’s girls.

“I want Nair,” Raid rumbled.

“Patience, Raid,” Knight said quietly.

“I think you get him, man,” Creed stated. “He found his woman on the floor of their house with her face in a puddle of blood she coughed up. You need to speed this shit up.”

“That fucker we took care of had no idea Hanna had anything to do with Knight ‘cause he had no idea Raid was lookin’ for him. He doesn’t even fuckin’ know who Raid is,” Deacon put in. “He was just pissed he lost a shitload of dope and it was Hanna who called it in. The operation is still sound.”

“When you got a woman or kids or, I don’t know, maybe even just a fuckin home you give a shit about, Deacon, then you can talk about how sound this operation is,” Creed growled.

Deacon’s body went dangerously still.

“That blow was low,” he clipped.

“But it hit true,” Creed bit off.

“I don’t want a fuckin’ debrief and I don’t wanna pull you two out of a goddamned smackdown. I wanna get to my woman,” Raid ground out and his eyes cut to Knight. “We bottom line this, this shit is on Nair. I want him.”

“I indirectly put your woman in danger, Raid. This shit is on me,” Knight stated.

“I don’t wanna go over what we’ve gone over time and a-fuckin’-gain the last three weeks either, but I will repeat what I’ve said a hundred goddamned times. That’s bullshit.” Raid’s eyes grew sharp on Knight and his voice got rough. “I. Want. Nair.”

“We do that, we have to do it in a way that it’s permanent,” Knight replied. “That requires planning.”

“Think we proved about ten hours ago not a one of us has got a problem with a permanent solution to a problem,” Deacon reminded them.

The men fell silent.

Knight broke it. “I need to understand what my brother’s involvement is, Raid. I know you get that.”

“Yeah. I do. So find the fuck out and let me loose on Nair,” Raid shot back.

“I’ll take care of Nair,” Knight returned.

“I get he’s fucked with you, and God forbid he reaches out to Anya, Kat or Kasha, then you can have him. But until you come home to find someone you love lyin’ unconscious in her own blood, I got dibs.”

Knight held Raid’s eyes.

Then he jerked up his chin, saying, “Fair enough.”

Raid headed to his Jeep.

He swung in, pulled out and didn’t look back.

Because he was headed home.

Twenty minutes later…

Raid drove his Jeep around the back of the farmhouse.

It was after one o’clock in the morning and all the outside lights were on. The house was dark except a light coming from the kitchen.

She was up.

He parked in the back, angled out, moved swiftly through the yard, up the back steps and tried the handle.

She’d locked up.

He almost smiled his relief when he inserted his key, got the door unlocked, moved in and stopped dead.

Miss Mildred was standing in the kitchen.

Fuck.

He stood silent, but impatient as she made her slow way to him, stopped a foot away and tilted her head way back.

Her shrewd eyes moved over his face.

He let them and it was his mother’s deeply ingrained manners that kept him standing there rather than setting her aside and getting to Hanna.

He watched her eyes close.

When she opened them, she whispered, “Wash it away. God gives tools to His earth that He uses, son. He puts men here like you to love girls like her, to protect them,” she lifted her hand, rested it on his chest and her sharp eyes flashed with wrath, “and, if necessary, to avenge them.”

It was then Raid closed his eyes.

She knew.

“But you know that already, don’t you, Raiden Miller?” she asked. “You already know God’s use for you ‘cause He’s needed to use you before.”

Raid kept his eyes closed and said nothing.

“Wash it away,” she kept whispering, the words flowing through him, leaving him clean.

Jesus.

Fucking clean.

Raid hadn’t felt clean in nearly five years.

He opened his eyes.

She shuffled away, murmuring, “Go to her. I’ll call Eunice. It’s late but she’ll come get me.”

“Miss Mildred—”

She slowly turned her head to pin him with her eyes. “Proud of you, son. You do things others can’t do and you stay standing. Now get upstairs and reap your rewards.”

Jesus, she understood everything.

Raid needed no further prompting. He moved through the kitchen, but stopped and turned when she called, “Boy?”

His eyes hit her.

“Since she got home, Spot won’t leave her side. Take your time, but I’ll be expectin’ you to do somethin’ about that. I want my cat back.”

Again, Raid nearly smiled.

He didn’t.

He jerked up his chin.

She slowly folded herself into a chair and reached for the phone sitting on the kitchen table.

Raid turned, moved through the foyer and took the stairs three at a time.

Their room was dark, but he could see Hanna asleep in bed.

He went directly there, sat on the side and was immediately attacked by a cat.

Raid put a hand to either side of the animal’s considerable stomach, hauled up its bulk and put him on the floor.

When he turned back, Hanna was up on an elbow.

“Raiden?”

The cat attacked his ankles.

He ignored it, reached out and tucked his girl’s hair behind her ear. “Yeah, honey.”

“Raiden,” she breathed, then moved and she was in his arms.

Hanna, safe, happy he was home and in his arms.

Thank.

Fuck.

Raid held her close, but he held her carefully.

Hanna held on tight.

Clean.

She pulled back, lifted her hands like she was going for his face, stopped and grumbled, “Stupid cast.”

“Baby, let me get my boots off and we’ll lie down.”

“I want to see your face.”

“You can see my face tomorrow. I’ll be two seconds.”

“I want to see your face now,” she demanded.

She reached for the light, and he sighed before he reached beyond her to turn on the light.

The cat jumped up on the bed. Raid set him down on the floor again and went back to Hanna.

She lifted her good hand to his face and her eyes moved over it.

He hoped like fuck she didn’t see what her grandmother saw.

Her eyes stopped and looked into his. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you get him?”

She couldn’t read him.

Thank.

Fuck.

“Yeah.”

“Is everyone safe?”

“Yeah.”

Her eyes again moved over his face.

Finally, they stopped on his.

“Next time you go on a path of vengeance, Raiden Ulysses Miller, I expect updates direct from you. I don’t care how hilarious Sylvie is, and by the way, you can tell Deacon his grunts of, ‘All good. Don’t worry. Raid will be home soon,’ don’t tell me anything.”

Looking in Hanna’s sleepy but annoyed pretty blue eyes, he knew she was okay.

So that was when Raid allowed himself to smile.

Eight hours later…

Raid opened his eyes, saw ceiling and realized he couldn’t breathe.

This was because he had a fat cat lying on his chest.

He also had his woman’s head on his shoulder and her heavy casted arm on his gut.

He didn’t move.

Time passed.

He still didn’t move.

He knew when she woke because her body shifted minutely before it melted into his.

She gave it time before she whispered, “Honey, you awake?”

“Yeah.”

She snuggled closer.

The cat woke and started purring.

“He’s going to want food in about five seconds,” Hanna warned.

Raid, nor Hanna, were going anywhere.

“He’s gonna have to wait,” Raid replied.

“Can you breathe?” she asked.

“No,” he answered.

He felt her smile against his skin.

She fell silent.

Raid didn’t break it.

Eventually, she asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

He did not.

“It’s over,” he declared in an effort to communicate that to her.

“I’ll take that as you not wanting to talk about it,” she mumbled.

She got him.

Since she did, he didn’t bother to confirm.

She was silent another long while before she remarked, “Sylvie’s a kick in the pants.”

Sylvie Creed was a lot more than that.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

“It was nice of her and Tucker to go all out for us,” she noted. “Especially taking them away from Jesse.”

“They were away from Jesse for a day,” Raid told her. “They hooked up with me, and Tucker went back to Denver ‘cause we were havin’ better luck with our informants using Sylvie. Then Sylvie found she couldn’t be away from her boys and she took off to join Tucker and Jesse in Denver, but those two worked the case in Denver. Tucker came back, then he left and Sylvie came back. In the end, Tucker came back, Sylvie left to go to Jesse and then it was done.”

“Sounds confusing.”

“They don’t like to be apart and they don’t like to be away from their boy. Now they’re all together and headin’ back to Phoenix.”

“Good,” she murmured.

“Is it?” he asked, and she lifted her head to aim her still sleepy eyes at him.

“Well, yeah. The family back together, this done.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” he returned.

Her head tipped to the side and her sleepy eyes warmed. “You mean you and me?”

“Cuddled close to me, baby, you throwin’ yourself in my arms when I got home last night, I’m guessin’ we’re all right. What I want to know is if you are.”

Her eyes drifted to his collarbone before she said quietly, “I should have talked to you at Chilton’s after I overheard your conversation on the phone.”

That was when he shifted and the cat jumped away, surprisingly without objection, as Raid rolled to his side. He pulled Hanna into his arms.

She rested her casted hand on his chest and tipped her head back to look at him.

“This is not your fault,” he stated firmly.

“You were going to take care of it. I jumped the gun.”

“This is not your fault.”

She looked deep into his eyes before she dipped her chin and pressed her face in his throat.

“They killed Bodhi,” she said there.

“Yeah, and they fucked Heather up in a way she’s not ever gonna heal,” he shared. Her body twitched then her head went back and she caught his eyes again. “Their consequences. Not on you. This is no one’s fault except the asshole scumbags who make poor life choices and blame good people doin’ the right things for those assholes bearing the consequences of their own fucked up decisions. They made more, they got more consequences. Now they’re done and you’re done. Safe.”

Hanna studied him a moment before he saw that settle in and settle deep, thank fuck.

She then asked, “I get the sense you don’t want to talk about it, but after looking for this guy for ages, how did you find him in three weeks?”

“Phantoms can’t be seen in the sun. Men can be phantoms for a while but they make mistakes. He always stood in the shadows.” Raid’s arms got tight around her. “To do what he did to you, he made a mistake. He came out into the sun.”

“Uh… that’s kinda bounty hunter speak,” she informed him, and Raid felt his lips tip up.

“What I’m sayin’ is he never got close to his business. This time he showed. Your neighbors saw the car and the Nevada plates. You saw him and told the team about him. This time he left breadcrumbs. We followed them.”

“Oh,” she replied, and his grin got bigger.

She pressed closer, her eyes grew warm and intense and she asked, “Are you good?”

“Absolutely.”

He knew she knew he did not lie when he watched her face go soft and she whispered, “I love you, Raiden.”

“I know you do, honey. That’s why I’m absolutely good.”

Hanna smiled.

Raid asked, “You think I can fuck you without you giving me a head injury with that cast when you latch onto my hair?”

Her smile changed as her eyes grew excited.

“I can try, but you should know, my ribs aren’t one hundred percent,” she warned.

To that, he rolled into her, but he did it carefully. Then he shoved his face in her neck.

“I’ll take that into account.”

From the floor, they heard an insistent, “Meow.”

Raid’s hands up her tank, Hanna’s fingers drifting over his back, Raid lifted his head, found her mouth and the fat cat had to wait a long time for breakfast.

He survived.