Page 141 of SEAL's Resolve

“I can’t wait to stretch out on a bed. My ribs hurt.”

“Mine, too.”

“Come on, you two,” Cal said. “Let’s get you inside.” He took the keys from Kristi and unlocked the door. Cal checked the house quickly and returned. “Everything is secure. Sleep, Rafe. No one will get past me.”

“Thanks, Cal.” Rafe escorted Kristi to her bedroom. He brushed a gentle kiss over her swollen mouth. “I’ll be across the hall if you need me.”

Once Kristi was in her room, Rafe took a change of clothes into the bathroom, and stripped. He cleaned up, grimacing at the deep bruise forming on his chest, then dragged on fresh clothes.

Stumbling to the bed, he stretched out and dropped into sleep.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Kristi woke to the scent of cinnamon and sugar. She made the mistake of breathing deep and wished she hadn’t when a sharp pain reminded her of the night’s events and her cracked ribs. She hoped Hugh felt worse than she did today.

A glance at the clock told her she needed to get up. She had to juggle her work schedule for the day to free up time to spend with her father.

She swung her feet to the floor and made her way to the bathroom. Man, she felt a million years old at the moment. Hopefully, a hot shower would loosen her muscles.

Thirty minutes later, she emerged from her bedroom and peeked into Rafe’s room. Empty. Kristi suspected he was responsible for the mouth-watering scent.

She went to the kitchen where Rafe stood in front of the oven. “What smells so good?”

The drop-dead gorgeous chef in black glanced over his shoulder with a smile. “Cinnamon rolls.”

“How long have you been awake?” Cinnamon rolls made from scratch took several hours.

“Long enough to send Cal to the grocery store for the ingredients. I made the quick version with crescent rolls instead of making dough from scratch.” He inclined his head to the platters of mini cinnamon rolls drizzled with icing lined up across the breakfast bar.

“These look wonderful. You made a bunch, though.”

“We weren’t here last night to make snacks for your clients.”

Kristi kissed him. “Thank you, Rafe. My clients will love this treat. You’ll have to teach me how to make them.”

“They’re easy. Try them.” He handed her a plate with four rolls and a travel mug of tea. “I talked to Jackson a few minutes ago. Your father is in a private room and doing well. He sent a message for you to take your time before coming to the hospital because he was enjoying his naps.”

Relief swept through her. Thank goodness. Seeing her father fragile and wounded hours earlier had scared her. “After breakfast, I’ll see what responsibilities I can shift to Jill today.”

Rafe joined her at the table with coffee and his own plate of cinnamon rolls. “How do you feel?”

“Sore. What about you?”

“Same.”

“Any word on Hugh and his buddies?”

“Ward wants me charged with attempted murder. If I’d wanted him dead, he’d be on a slab in the morgue. According to Eli, Ward’s accusation against me was met with suspicion when the police found the contract he forced your father to sign. Your father’s blood was on the document.”

“Anything else?”

“The money from your trust fund has been returned to your account. The money from your father’s safe is now evidence. No telling when that will be returned. Also, since Jon discovered Fleming’s computer skills, he hacked into the other man’s computer. Turns out that Fleming is responsible for the money Stewart Group lost. He’s been skimming the company’s accounts and funneling the money into two offshore bank accounts in the Cayman Islands, one for him and one for Hale. They both have a quite a nest egg.”

Kristi sighed. “Well, that explains why Hale and Fleming were willing to accept a measly $100,000 payout when Hugh was going to walk away with millions of dollars. Wolf Pack and Dan are uninjured?”

“A few minor bruises.”

When they finished breakfast, Kristi stacked their dishes in the dishwasher. “We have a few minutes before Jill arrives. Come sit with me on the deck. I’d love to go to the garden, but I don’t think my ribs can tolerate the hard bench.”

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