Braden was strong, too strong for Sam to jerk away from and head out on her own. He was also stubborn, nearly as stubborn as she was. So if she tried to go off without him, he would just follow her instead of heading to safety. He would follow her anywhere, which was how he’d wound up out in this forest in the dark—because he’d thought the directions would lead to her. And they had.
But she had to make it clear to him what the risk was in doing what she proposed: trying to track down the shooter. “You want to go with me and put yourself in even more danger?”
“I would rather die with you than live without you,” he said.
Tears stung Sam’s eyes at the beautiful and sincere sentiment her husband expressed. And she grimaced in frustration with herself for getting overwhelmed with emotion. She’d never been the romantic type, probably because of growing up with her Neanderthal brothers, or maybe because she just hadn’t trusted romance. Not after watching her mom break her dad’s heart so cruelly when she’d left him. Left all of them…
But coming from Braden, those words weren’t an empty promise or a practiced line, she knew. The man was pure and honest, which was why she’d fallen so hard, so fast, for him. She was the love of his life, and he was the love of hers. What he’d just said was true for her, as well.
“Okay.” She relented, even though she knew he would have given her no choice, just like he hadn’t given her any choice in falling in love with him. He’d made it impossible for her not to want to be with him forever.
“Okay?” he repeated, as if surprised she’d agreed. Then he released her and the gun and added, “So are you going to shoot me now?”
A smile tugged at her lips. This was another thing about him that she loved so much—how he could make her smile and laugh no matter how tense a situation was. “I’d rather shoot whoever shot at us,” she admitted. “But if you insist…”
“No,” he said. “Let’s find the shooter. But how?” Braden was notorious for having a sixth sense in knowing when a fire was about to start—she’d learned that about him long before she’d met him—but that particular gift wouldn’t help him find their shooter.
She was an investigator. She had the skills to find this shooter. Just as she knew the best ways to catch an arsonist, like how they liked to have a vantage point to watch the fire, how they wanted to bask in the glow of it, relish the success of it. Whoever had lured them here had to be out there somewhere, waiting to fire at them again…but drawing out the moment, savoring what they must suspect was their fear.
Whoever the hell it was didn’t know them very well then. Instead of cowering with fear, she and her husband flirted and laughed. The fear was there. They just wouldn’t show it.
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