Page 60 of Guarded Hearts
Taking control of the group chat, he texted before all hell broke loose back home.
We’re safe. On our way back.
Willow replied instantly.Thank god. I’ve been so worried!
That was exactly like his baby sister. She swung between bossing them all around and telling them off to falling into a sweet, mother-hen mode. More than once, Carson experienced the whiplash of her moods.
We didn’t have the easiest time of it. We’re coming straight to the ranch. Make sure security is in place.
Oaks responded.I’ll pick you up.
The chat continued for a while between his brothers and sister. Until somebody mentioned Denver again.
Carson knew from his own time as a SEAL that there was little use in worrying. Every man usually got out fine. Until they heard otherwise, Denver was okay.
Carson’s phone lost signal again.
When he turned his head, Layne was staring at him. Their gazes connected, and hers softened into warm, hazel puddles. The love she professed to have for him was clear in her eyes. Her face was an open book. He’d know her true feelings even if she’d never uttered the words.
He set his phone aside.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
“My family is just concerned. They heard about the matter in Italy.”
She shook her head. “I’m still in shock from that. It all happened so quick. The explosion and then that car slamming into us.” Her eyes shot to his bandaged face.
It seemed like they’d been in this jet forever—two long flights was one too many. A shame, because he really had been looking forward to relaxing with her in an exotic locale.
And worshipping her body there.
They chatted and napped on and off, always touching. When some heavy turbulence jostled him awake, he straightened and reached out to Layne in the seat beside him.
Her eyes flew open. “What’s going on?”
He didn’t need to answer because the pilot came over the intercom to tell them they were flying through a thunderstorm.
Carson checked the time on his phone. “It looks like we’ll be landing in a thunderstorm too.”
That was the understatement of the century. The rest of the flight was bumpy as hell, and Layne gripped the armrest so hard out of terror that he wrapped his arm around her and held her for the remainder of the flight into Wyoming.
Lightning streaked all around them in panoramic view, flashing through the dark sky.
He didn’t feel at ease; nothing was as it should be. If he didn’t know the time for himself, the state of the sky wouldn’t tell him whether it was day or night.
After a tooth-grinding landing, he opened the hatch door and paused in the frame, sweeping his stare over the parking lot.
The empty parking lot.
A growl burned on his lips. “Where thefuckis Oaks?”
He grabbed his phone and called the office. As soon as Willow’s voice projected into his ear, he exploded, the frustrations compounded over the past twenty-four hours all coming out. “Oaks said he was picking us up. I didn’t question it. I let him make that call. Now I see why he had to pick us up—where thehellis my truck?”
“We picked it up so it wasn’t sitting at the airstrip.”
He saw the logic. But he really disliked being stranded—unable to make a getaway if it came to that.
Fury welled in his chest. He needed to protect Layne, and they were sitting ducks on this runway. While he was pretty surethat the steel of the jet would deflect bullets, he didn’t like it. Not one goddamn bit.