Jake
The crackle of static over the tactical radio broke the bedroom’s quiet.
Beside me, Emma stiffened. Her breath hitched, the soft aftermath of our intimacy shattered in a single second. Beneath my palm, where my hand still rested against the gentle swell of her lower belly, her pulse raced.
"Stay with me, Em," I said, my voice low and steady. "Breathe. You're safe."
I slid out from beneath the quilt, feet hitting the cold pine planks. Panic was a contagion, and Emma needed certainty. I pulled on my jeans, stepped into my riding boots, and reached for my Kimber .45 on the nightstand. I checked the chamber, seated the magazine, and racked the slide. Shrugging into my flannel and leather cut, the weight of the Steele Riders patch settled over my back like armor.
I knelt by the bed. E
