Page 112 of Hunted
“I have three security guards going with me. There will be five around the property here, keeping watch.” He squeezes my shoulder as he looks at the others. “Keep her safe, I won’t be long.”
“Like you have to ask,” Weston grumbles, rolling his eyes.
“Come back in one piece, okay? And soon.” I don’t really like him going out alone, but after the morning we shared, I’m feeling a little extra clingy, and from the look in his eyes, I think he wants to leave even less than I want him to.
“Love you, darling, see you soon.” He kisses the top of my head, then heads towards the front door. I hear it open and close and let out a deep sigh.
“He’ll be fine, Tink.”
“I know… it’s just… we haven’t really been apart since we’ve been back. Maybe one of you should go, too?”
“You heard him, he has three security guards going with him. He’ll be perfectly safe.”
I nod, knowing all of that’s true, but hating being apart from him. I just wanted all of us to stay locked up in this house together, forever. Is that too much to ask?
“West, is that four-wheeler fixed yet? We could take that for a spin if it is,” Bower asks.
“No, I’m still working on it,” Weston grumbles. We spend the next few minutes listening to him explain why a fuel-injected engine is harder to repair than a carbureted one.
He gets super into it, and I decide I love hearing him talk about something he’s clearly passionate about. When he finally stops to take a sip of water, I ask, “Will you let me drive it? When it’s done?”
He narrows his eyes at me for a moment as he contemplates his answer. “I’ll take you for a ride first, and then, if you—
Suddenly, the room explodes. Or more accurately, the back of the house does. A resonating boom fills the air as debris flies towards us.
Weston, who’s sitting closest to me, pushes me to the floor and throws himself on top of me as glass and bricks and who knows what else, rain down around us.
Everything around me falls silent, replaced by the sharp, high-pitched ringing in my ears. I can faintly hear men yelling and I tense up, gripping Weston’s shirt tightly in fear.
Have they come to finish us off?
Because that was clearly a bomb that just went off, taking out our kitchen.
The voices get louder until one starts to become familiar.
“DARLA!”
“Reece?” I murmur into Weston’s chest. Finally, he moves to his knees, his hands and eyes scanning my body.
“Are you hurt?”
“Areyou?!” I notice a little bit of blood trickling down his arm, and he wipes some from my forehead.
“Darla!” I look over at what used to be the back wall of the kitchen and see Reece yank his arm out of the hold of one of the security guards, before he runs in, stepping over obstacles as he takes a zig-zag path towards us.
I quickly look around and see Bower and Kingsley getting to their feet as they dust themselves off. Weston helps me stand and when I finally get a look at all three of them from all sides, I feel a little bit of tension fade. Nobody was seriously injured. Just some small cuts and scrapes.
“Fuck, Darla, are you okay? Are any of you hurt?” Reece asks, gently pulling me in for a hug.
“A little startled, but I think we’re alright,” Kingsley answers for us.
“What the fuck happened? I was still in the driveway when I heard the explosion.”
“Mr. Benson! With all due respect, can you five please get out of that building before it collapses on you?” The head of security chastises Reece, and I look around, seeing the extent of the damage. He’s probably right, this part of the house is definitely not stable anymore.
Without a word, Reece scoops me up in his arms and carries me outside into the backyard, followed by the other three. When the security guard says we’re at a safe distance from the house, Reece sets me down and grabs my hand, like he’s afraid I’ll run off.
Now my ears are no longer ringing, I can hear the distant sound of a siren, probably the emergency services on their way here.
