Page 59 of Guarded Hearts
He dropped them, and she cradled his face in her soft, cool hands and drew him down against her breasts. He curled against her, fighting his way back to reality from that room of his nightmares and those people who had tried to take his soul.
“Carson. Carson. It’s okay. You were dreaming. It’s all right. I’m here.”
He didn’t mean to be so weak and clutch her like a drowning man, but he couldn’t help himself. Sometimes the dreams got the better of him.
At least for a few minutes until he mastered himself.
He could still hear the tapping of Morse code on iron bars. Instead, he focused on Layne’s voice and the hum of the jet engines.
He wasn’t Ghost anymore. That man was gone—every day of his life he worked to bury Ghost Malone. He’d keep the skillsthat earned him the nickname and fade into the background when needed. But now he just wanted to be Carson.
Finally, his heart rate returned to a normal rhythm and the dream fog cleared from his mind.
He loosened his hold on Layne and lifted his head. “I’m sorry.”
She blinked. “Sorry for what? For being a flesh-and-blood man and not a machine?”
“You don’t need to see this.”
Before he could twist away, she caught his cheek and held his stare steady on hers. “But I did. Do I have to tell you that I’m here for this? For whatever reason youeverneed me? Whether it means bandaging your wounds or getting you through the internal ones—I’m here.”
He stared deep into her eyes and saw the truth of her words.
“Look, Carson. I trust you with my life.” She drew his palm over her chest. “And my heart. You can trust me too.”
God, he never expected to ever have a person in his life who would be there for any of his darkness, let alone shed rays of warm sunlight over the shadows.
He kissed her tenderly, using his body to say the things he couldn’t express verbally. After a few minutes of kissing and touching her, he felt more like himself. She got up and fetched them each a bottle of water from the rear of the plane where the refrigerator was located.
They sipped their water and talked about nothing and everything. Since Layne had slept on the flight to Italy, she was wide awake on the return. It was good to be with her. More than good.
Perfect.
His phone buzzed again. As soon as he saw the five other people in the group were his siblings, he groaned. He didn’t want her to read anything over his shoulder—and spot something that might fill her with fear.
“What is it?” Layne looked away from her own phone that she was scrolling on, searching websites filled with photos of antiques that just looked like dusty junk to his untrained eye.
“My brother added all of us to a group chat.”
“Oh god. Group chats are terrible. I bet sibling ones are even worse.” Her eyes danced with amusement.
He nodded and began skimming through the first few messages from Oaks, spelling out what Denver told him—the same thing he’d called Carson to warn him of.
Then Colt jumped in, sharing what he knew about the situation in Italy and questioning where Carson and Layne were.
After that, Willow had a small freakout laced with fear and made Carson’s brotherly protector leap to soothe her.
Oaks:Carson—give us your coordinates.
Colt:He’s probably in the air on his way back to the States.
Willow:Should I tell Faye that Layne is missing?
Good god. The last thing the older housekeeper of the London family needed to hear was that Layne was missing. She was right here with him.
The world was damn confusing at the moment, but the one thing he knew without a doubt was that he wanted to take Layne again.
He wanted to sink inside her until the pilots had stories to tell their fellow pilot buddies about all the noise they caused.