Page 27 of The Wrangler

Keely saw the flash of metal as Jesse took out one assassin—one left. The glint from the sun off another gun barrel being raised caught her attention. Her breath froze in her lungs. Jesse moved—he must have seen it too. One second, he was standing beside her, the next he was shoving her out of the way, turning his body toward the bullet meant for her.

A sickening, brutal sound filled the air. Jesse stumbled back, gripping his side, blood seeping through his shirt. Keely’s vision narrowed to red. She raised her gun and fired. The last shooter dropped, dead before he hit the ground.

Keely was on her knees, hands shaking as she reached for Jesse. “No, no, no—stay with me,” she whispered, pressing her hands against his side, trying to stop the bleeding.

Jesse let out a ragged breath, his face pale, but his eyes were still sharp, still focused. “I’m fine,” he muttered, but his body disagreed.

Keely’s heart slammed against her ribs. “You’re not fine, Jesse. We need to get you inside.”

He let out a rough breath, then grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her closer. Keely froze. His fingers were wet with blood, but his grip was steady, his gaze burning into hers.

“Keely,” he rasped, voice frayed. “You listen to me. Right now. No more games.”

Keely’s throat closed, her fingers pressing harder against his wound. “I’m not leaving you,” she whispered.

Jesse eyes softened, his grip softening just a fraction. “I know.”

His eyes flickered, his body swaying slightly, and Keely’s heart lurched. Panic rushed through her, but she shoved it down. She needed to get him inside. Now.

“Come on,” she breathed, looping an arm around him, forcing his much larger body to move.

Jesse gritted his teeth but didn’t fight her. Together, they stumbled toward the house, blood dripping into the dirt, the scent of gunpowder thick in the morning air. Keely’s hands shook, but she refused to stop. Because Jesse had just taken a bullet for her, and she wasn’t about to let him die for it.

Keely had never known fear like this.

Her heart slammed against her ribs, her breath coming too fast as she dragged Jesse inside, his body solid and unmoving against her. Blood soaked through his shirt, warm and sticky against her fingers, but he kept himself upright, jaw locked, determined to make it to the couch without collapsing.

“You’re an idiot,” she bit out, maneuvering him onto the cushions, grabbing one of the throw pillows and shoving it behind his back. “A goddamn reckless idiot.”

Jesse let out a rough chuckle, wincing as he tried to shift. “If this is what getting shot gets me, remind me not to do it again.”

Keely’s vision blurred for a second, a rush of panic and fury colliding in her chest. She had almost lost him because he’d stepped in front of a bullet meant for her, like it was nothing.

She ripped his shirt up, her hands shaking as she assessed the wound—a deep graze along his side, bleeding too much, but not deep enough to kill him. Jesse watched her, his breathing uneven, but his eyes sharp.

“You going to patch me up, or just keep ogling me?”

Keely’s hands clenched, her nails biting into her palms. He was grinning at her, bleeding out on his couch, and acting like this was just any other day of the week. She had never wanted to shake someone more in her life… or kiss them.

She shoved the thought down and grabbed the first-aid kit from the kitchen, slamming it down on the table beside him. “Shut up and hold still.”

Jesse obeyed, letting her clean the wound, his muscles flexing beneath her touch as she pressed gauze against the tornflesh. Her pulse wasn’t steady anymore. Her hands weren’t, either. The moment she had seen him fall, everything had changed.

“You can’t do that again,” she whispered, not looking at him.

Jesse let out a slow breath. “Keely...”

“I mean it,” she snapped, finally looking up, her throat tight, her chest burning. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to throw yourself in front of me like your life doesn’t matter.”

Jesse’s gaze darkened, his jaw ticking. “It mattered enough to keep you breathing.”

Something inside her snapped. Without thinking, without caring, she grabbed his face and kissed him. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle. It was unfiltered, desperate, and all-consuming. Jesse groaned against her mouth, his hands gripping her waist, pulling her onto his lap before she could stop him. Keely’s fingers tangled in his hair, her body pressed flush against his, her need for him a wildfire she couldn’t contain anymore.

He was alive, and she needed to feel every inch of him, needed to remind herself that he was still here, still breathing, still Jesse.

Jesse pulled back, his forehead resting against hers, his breath ragged. “Keely…”

“Don’t you dare tell me this was a mistake,” she whispered, voice shaking.

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