Page 9 of Lone Star Christmas Mission

After several minutes, she finally eased back, and their gazes locked. Hell. The heat came. So damn much of it. But he didn’t kiss her. Cash’s arms slid away from her as she moved back evenmore. Still, she didn’t seem to be retreating in terror from the flashbacks.

“Shower,” she muttered. “I’ll make sure not to get my stitches wet.” After giving him one last look, she headed in that direction.

Cash didn’t curse until she’d shut the door and could no longer hear him. He was about to launch into a stern lecture to himself about his hands-off policy with Kayla, but before he could do that, his phone buzzed.

Ruby’s name flashed on the screen.

Obviously, his boss wasn’t getting any more sleep or rest than Kayla and he were, but he prayed she was calling with good news.

“Did you find Harvin?” he immediately asked.

“No,” Ruby was quick to reply. “But I know what he’s been up to, and, Cash, it’s not good. He just posted this on the dark web.”

Shit. Cash definitely didn’t like the sound of that. However, before he could question Ruby about it, his phone dinged with the sound of an incoming video, and he clicked on it.

It was grainy footage but still clear enough for Cash to see the man dressed in a Santa suit. He was on his knees in what appeared to be some kind of warehouse. At first he thought it was Harvin mimicking his dad’s choice of costumes, but then Cash spotted someone behind the Santa.

Harvin himself.

There was no doubting it, and while Harvin was looking directly in the camera, he kept a gun pointed at the Santa.

“This message is for the murdering bitch, Kayla, and the Maverick Ops’ fucker who keeps saving her sorry ass,” Harvin growled. “Come to me and surrender, both of you, or this will just keep on happening.”

And with that, Harvin pulled the trigger.

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Chapter Four

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Kayla woke up in pain. Her head was throbbing, and every muscle in her body seemed to be twisted and knotted, screaming for her to move and try to untangle them. It was like a dozen Charley horses going on at once.

She jackknifed to a sitting position. And instantly regretted doing that. The sudden movement made the pain so much worse, and she gasped to try to catch her breath.

“It’s okay,” someone said.

Cash.

He was right there, easing to sit down on the bed next to her. His weight shifted the soft mattress so that she slid against him.

She latched onto the sound of his voice, his face, his scent, using all of those things to ground her and bring her back from the pain. It worked. It worked even better when he took hold of her hand.

No panic came rushing over her. Just the opposite. His touch was more effective than those other three things had been.

Well, almost.

Panic was rarely her default when she caught a glimpse of his face. And what a face it was. When she’d been a teenager, she had thought Cash was the hottest guy she’d ever seen.

And he still was.

That black hair, stubble, and piercing gray eyes hit all the right notes. His body did, too. Not overly muscled, just toned and perfect.

Yes, Cash still had her hormonal number despite all the other stuff that happened when he touched her. Correction—the stuff thatusuallyhappened when he touched her. The panic and the flood of memories of Kira’s murder. But all of that wasn’t rearing its ugly head now. Nor had it when they’d been at the hospital.

“The hospital,” she repeated aloud now that she had some breath.

She wasn’t there in the ER, and it took her brain a couple of seconds to catch up. She had been treated at the county hospital and released, and Cash had brought her to his place. She had showered, changed into one of his t-shirts and a pair of his boxers, and he had helped her to bed in his guest room. A very dark guest room with the curtains closed and the only light coming from the slightly ajar door of the bathroom.

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