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  “I-I’m sorry. I’m not usually such a wreck.” Brushing the filthy hair back from her face, Kelsey looked to Officer Callahan. He was shorter than Hunt by several inches, with a receding hairline and a nose that looked as if it had been broken more than once. But his hazel eyes were kind, and the way he smiled and hooked his thumbs in his belt in a nonthreatening way relaxed her even more.

  “No judgment from me,” he answered. “You’ve been through hell today.”

  She had been. But she still didn’t like the way she’d very nearly crumbled a few minutes ago. Or that she’d almost done it in front of Hunt.

  Glancing past Callahan, Kelsey spotted several officers surrounding Julian at the back of an ambulance. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but their aggressive stances needed no explanation.

  “Hunt was just telling me about the text you received.” Callahan pulled a small pad of paper and a pencil from his breast pocket, drawing her attention his way. “Can you describe the cell phone for me?”

  “It’s an iPhone. Silver. In a clear case with pink flowers.”

  “When was the last time you remember having it?”

  A scream echoed from the direction of the ambulances. Kelsey’s gaze shot in that direction to where Julian was now bent over the back of the ambulance with his cheek pressed against the floor of the vehicle while two officers wrestled his hands behind his back and snapped cuffs over his wrists.

  “Um . . . I . . . the production assistant took it from me just before I was supposed to go on air.”

  “Sir?” A female EMT with brown hair tied in a neat ponytail reached for Hunt’s arm with gloved hands. “Your leg is bleeding. We need to take a look at that.”

  Kelsey’s gaze dropped, and for the first time she noticed Hunt’s left pant leg was shredded from hip to ankle and that his thigh was red and oozing beneath the torn fabric. “Oh my God.” Sickness swirled in her stomach. “You’re hurt.”

  “It’s nothing.” Hunt brushed the EMT’s hand away, tightening his hold on Kelsey’s hand when she tried to release him. “I’m fine.”

  He wasn’t fine. She stared at the wound, remembering how he’d said his legs had been pinned in the rubble. Her gaze lifted to his face, but she could tell with one look he wasn’t feeling any pain. His focused eyes were locked on her as if she were the one who was injured. As if making sure she was okay was all that mattered.

  Emotions slammed into her from every side. Emotions that stole her breath and drew her right back to that moment in the destruction when he’d told her she mattered. That he cared. That there was no one else he’d rather be with. Followed by the overwhelming way he’d kissed her when she’d been pulled from the rubble. Not once, but twice.

  He’d meant those words. Meant every single one. Her lips tingled as the memory of those kisses flooded her mind. And in the aftermath, her skin warmed and her heart sped up until the only thing she wanted was for him to kiss her again.

  “She’s fine, O’Donnell.” Officer Callahan glared at Hunt. “Go get your leg patched up before it falls off.”

  Hunt shot a frown Callahan’s way, then looked back at Kelsey. “I can stay.”

  Words lodged in her throat. She couldn’t seem to make her tongue work. And this inability to speak had nothing to do with fear or a breakdown or anything to do with Julian. It had to do with the man in front of her. With the way he’d protected her. With the way he was still protecting her. And all the ways she wanted to thank him for being exactly what she needed.

  The best she could do was shake her head.

  His brow wrinkled, as if he were unsure, and knowing he wouldn’t leave her when he was worried, she said, “I’m fine, Hunter. Go.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She nodded. “Very. I’m fine.”

  His features relaxed. Releasing her hand, he pointed toward the line of ambulances. “I’ll be right over there if you need me.”

  “Holy hell,” Callahan breathed. “Get out of here already, O’Donnell.”

  Hunt glared Callahan’s way once more, then looked down at the EMT. “Okay, lead the way.

  The EMT placed a gloved hand around his arm, helping him as he hobbled toward the ambulance. And as Kelsey watched, she hated that she’d been so wrapped up in herself and what had happened with Julian that she hadn’t noticed he was injured. At the same time, though, something inside her warmed with the knowledge that he’d been so wrapped up in her he hadn’t even noticed himself.

  “Stubborn jackass,” Callahan muttered at her side. “You must have the magic touch.”

  Kelsey blinked and looked toward the officer. “I do?”

  “You must. He never listens to me. Never listens to anyone, as a matter of fact.”

  As Callahan jotted something in his notebook, Kelsey watched as Hunt carefully climbed up on the open tailgate of an ambulance and extended his leg for the EMT to inspect. He was strength and resilience and family, she realized. Not in a way that made her feel confined, as her brothers and parents often did, but one that made her feel safe, protected, cherished. And for reasons she didn’t quite understand, she suddenly wanted to have the magic touch for him. Wanted to be the magic for him that he’d just been for her. Couldn’t keep from wondering what that would be like.

  “We should probably get you checked out too,” Callahan said, flipping his notebook closed.

  Kelsey blinked, still unable to look away from Hunt. “I’m fine. I’m not hurt.”

  “Humor me, will ya? I’m sure you are fine, but I’ll feel better when I know for sure. Plus, I want you to tell me about Benedict before the FBI gets wind of you. Hunt said you’ve had problems with the man in the past. If he had something to do with this bombing, trust me, Portland PD wants a piece of him before the Feds get involved. And if you’re at the center of all this, I want to know every damn thing about you and Benedict before the Feds come looking for you.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Hunt had a sinking feeling he’d seriously fucked up. But for the moment, there wasn’t a thing he could do to fix it.

  The doctor tied off the last of the stitches in his thigh in the emergency bay at the ER where Hunt had been taken even though he’d argued he didn’t need a hospital. A little of the tension in Hunt’s chest eased, knowing this part of his day was almost done. He was itching to get out of here. Itching to get back to Kelsey. And his eagerness had absolutely nothing to do with that never-should-have-happened kiss, and everything to do with the fact he didn’t have a clue where Benedict was at the moment.

  Damn. What the hell had he been thinking, kissing Kelsey like that? She was his best friend’s sister. There was a bro-code there he knew better than to cross. He needed to get out of this hospital and find Kelsey, not just because she was technically his client at the moment, but because he needed to talk to her about that kiss. Apologize. Explain . . .

  Explain what? Just how long he’d been fantasizing about kissing her? Or how badly he wanted to kiss her again?

  “Fuck me,” he muttered, gripping the sides of the table. Just what the hell was he going to say to her?

  The dark-skinned nurse at his side chuckled as the doctor stepped back, and she moved in to bandage his leg. “You’re cute and all, but a little dirty for my taste. ’Sides which, I’m married.”

  Hunt’s face warmed, and he glanced up when he realized he’d said that out loud. “Sorry. I was thinking about . . . something else.”

  “Uh-huh.” She placed a square bandage over his stitches. “Did you call her yet to let her know you’re all right?”

  “She knows.” But her question made him suddenly remember her family. And his dad. And what the hell they were all thinking at the moment.

  The twentysomething doctor stripped off his gloves. “These stitches need to stay dry for at least forty-eight hours. Ellen’s putting a waterproof bandage over the dressing. You can shower when you get home, but briefly. Try not to get the bandage too wet.” He tossed his gloves in a trashcan and
moved to the counter to sign Hunt’s paperwork. “Take the plastic covering off tonight. Check the dressing. If it’s wet you’ll need to get the gauze off and rebandage it.”

  Hunt nodded. “I was in the army. I know how to take care of a dressing.”

  “Good.” The doctor clicked his pen and tucked it in the chest pocket of his scrubs. “The stitches will need to stay in seven to fourteen days. Follow up with your primary care physician to have them removed, or call him if you notice any signs of infection.”

  He swept out of the room before Hunt could even respond. Since the ER was packed with people from the disaster and Hunt could tell the kid was stressed, he cut the guy some slack. Glancing past the nurse still wrapping his thigh, Hunt looked up toward the clock and realized it was already after seven in the evening.

  Shit. Seven p.m. The blast had happened at just after nine fifteen that morning. He and Kelsey had been stuck in that rubble for almost eight hours, then there’d been that whole scene with Benedict at the site, followed by coming here . . . Both of their families were probably freaking the hell out.

  He reached to his back for his phone only to find his pocket empty. He’d lost his cell somewhere in the blast, but his thoughts had been so scattered, he’d completely forgotten until just now. He really needed to call his dad. He needed to call the McClanes. But more than anything, he needed to find Kelsey and make sure she was okay.

  The nurse tugged off her gloves and dropped them on the tray at her side, then stepped back so he could stand. “I’m going to grab your discharge papers from the printer. There’s a pair of scrubs on the counter there. They aren’t pretty, but they’ll get you home in something more than your undies. Go ahead and get dressed, and I’ll be right back.”

  “Thanks.” Hunt climbed off the gurney, wincing at the ache in his legs. A little pain was better than being paralyzed, though, and today he’d take it over the alternative.

  By the time the nurse came back, he was dressed in the teal scrubs. She went over the discharge instructions with him again and made him promise to call if he had any problems. Just as she was finishing, footsteps sounded in the hallway. “He won’t call. Too bullheaded.”

  Hunt’s heart lurched into his throat when he spotted Callahan alone in the doorway. “Where is she?”

  “Relax.” Callahan flashed a wide smile at the nurse, then stepped aside to let her pass. “She’s fine. In the waiting room with one of my officers. FBI wanted to keep her for questioning, but I told ’em a bullshit story about her being too exhausted to go through it all again. Though I’m sure they’ll call her tomorrow just for shits and giggles.” He glanced over his shoulder toward the nurse who’d just left. “You didn’t catch her name by any chance, did ya?”

  “Ellen. And she’s married.”

  “Bummer. She’s hot.”

  Hunt breathed a little easier, knowing Kelsey was close, but not much. He’d feel better when he saw her with his own two eyes. He tugged on his filthy shirt, cringing at the twinge in his back. The doctor had insisted on looking at a scrape on his shoulder, but it, thankfully, hadn’t needed stitches. “Where’s Benedict?”

  “Being booked right now for assaulting an officer.” Callahan followed Hunt out into the busy ER hallway. “Guy was whining about needing a hospital, but the EMTs patched him up. Nice work on his nose, by the way. Not broken, but you definitely did a number on his profile.”

  Hunt wasn’t exactly proud of that. Violence didn’t always solve things, and he definitely didn’t like that he’d dropped the guy right in front of Kelsey. Especially with the way she’d reacted to it.

  “Have the Feds questioned him?” Hunt asked, moving around a trio of doctors standing in the middle of the hallway.

  “Not yet. But I’m sure they will. They also want to talk to you.”

  Hunt expected that. His night was far from over. He glanced at his friend as they approached the double doors that led to the lobby. “And what did Kelsey tell you about Benedict?”

  Callahan exhaled. “Enough to give me a not-so-pretty picture of their not-so-happy marriage. Guy’s clearly got anger issues. He never hit her, if that’s what you’re wondering, at least not that she’s admitting. But he did enough behind closed doors to scare her. Guys like him use threats and bullying to get what they want.”

  Hunt stopped and turned toward his friend, unease churning in his gut. “That’s exactly what Kelsey said. Even if he did send that text, he doesn’t fit the profile of someone who’d set off a bomb in the middle of a city.”

  “Yeah. That was my thought too.”

  Hunt stared at his friend. “So what happens to him now?”

  “At this point we have no evidence he was involved, but the investigation is only just beginning. We’ll keep him for questioning as long as we can, but, Hunt . . . Kelsey never filed a restraining order, so we can’t even hold him for violating that. Benedict’s attorney will likely argue Benedict was distraught over the bombing, and that’s why he reacted aggressively. If he does that, it’ll be hard for us to make the assault charges stick, and my guess is the DA will decline to prosecute in that situation. If we can’t find anything linking Benedict to the bombing, he’ll probably be out on the street tomorrow.”

  Hunt didn’t like the sound of that. Regardless of whether Benedict was or wasn’t involved in that bombing, he was still a threat to Kelsey. Today he’d become violent, even if she wouldn’t admit he had before. “Can she file a restraining order now? Considering the way he went after us today?”

  “Yes. And I had her file a temporary restraining order before I brought her over here. Judge Halliwell already signed it, and she’s got a copy. She’ll have to appear in court in fifteen or twenty days to make it permanent. The key will be whether she goes through with it then, when she has to face him in front of a judge.”

  Hunt would make sure she went through with it.

  His chest pinched. He didn’t like thinking about Kelsey being hurt—now or in the past. Didn’t like thinking how his growing need to protect her was crossing over from professional into way-too-damn personal. Reaching a hand out, he hit the button on the wall at his side to open the wide double doors. Just as he did, Callahan’s phone went off. His friend lifted the cell to his ear and answered as he and Hunt stepped into the lobby.

  Hunt’s gaze swept the two dozen or so people waiting to be seen by a doctor. Around him the hustle and bustle of a busy emergency room echoed in his ears. A baby cried. People chatted in low voices. At the counter to his left someone was arguing with the receptionist. But he couldn’t find Kelsey.

  Panic reformed beneath his ribs. He looked over each face again, sure he had to have missed her. Just when he was ready to rip the phone out of Callahan’s hand and ask where the hell she was, a woman with powder-white hair and familiar brown eyes emerged from what he realized was a small hallway that led to a couple of restrooms. And behind her, an officer dressed in the familiar PPD blue colors.

  The air whooshed out of his lungs, and relief filled the space behind. He stepped toward her, but Callahan’s hand on his arm stopped him.

  “Yeah, hold on,” Callahan said into his phone. “He’s right here.” He held the phone out to Hunt. “It’s McClane. For you.”

  “Which one?” Hunt closed his hand around the phone. “And how’d they know we were together?”

  “Alec. And he guessed. What happened in Portland this morning is all over the national news. When he couldn’t get ahold of you, he called the station. Someone there gave him my number. Talk to him.”

  Hunt pressed the phone to his ear. “Hey. Things have been crazy here. Sorry I didn’t call. I lost my phone.”

  “Is Kelsey okay? We’ve been going out of our minds here.”

  “She’s fine.” Hunt focused on Kelsey, walking toward him, looking way better than any woman should look after everything she’d been through today. “We’re both fine. She’s right here with me, safe and in one piece.” And, damn, he wanted to hold her
again. Ached to wrap his arms around her right here in the middle of this waiting room just to prove to himself she was warm and solid and real.

  “The news said it was a bomb. What the heck is going on there, Hunt?”

  Hunt had roomed with Alec in college and knew his friend didn’t always handle stress well. At this point, there was no sense bringing up theories and hunches that would just cause Alec more anxiety. “No one’s sure yet. Callahan says the Feds are on it, though.”

  In the background, Hunt could hear Kelsey’s other brothers rattling off rapid-fire questions for Alec to ask. The most insistent was Rusty, desperate to know where Benedict was. Hunt tensed, not wanting to get into Benedict’s location at the moment. Doing so would only force him to explain what had set Benedict off, and he wasn’t ready to go there with any of the McClanes, especially Rusty. Of all Kelsey’s brothers, Rusty was the most protective of her. Considering everything Kelsey had been through with Benedict, Hunt didn’t doubt Rusty would be the first to get right in his face and demand to know what the hell had happened and why Hunt hadn’t stopped it before it had gone down. And, oh yeah, if Rusty happened to catch any footage of Hunt kissing Kelsey, that wouldn’t go over well either.

  “Who is it?” Kelsey mouthed, stopping at Hunt’s side while Alec ranted in his ear about everything he’d seen on the news, avoiding his brothers’ questions.

  Hunt tipped the phone away from his mouth. “Alec.”

  A frown tugged at Kelsey’s lips as she held out her hand. “Here, let me talk to him before he bursts a blood vessel.”

  Hunt relaxed, more than happy to hand the phone off to her.

  Kelsey listened for several seconds, then said, “Calm down, Alec. Yes, I’m fine. No, I’m not lying. Well, if you’d chill out for ten seconds and let me talk, I’d tell you.”

  Hunt watched her, awed by the way she took charge and put her brother right in his place. She’d always been able to do that with her brothers. As the only girl in the McClane family, she’d learned early on to stand up for herself. He just wasn’t sure why she hadn’t done that with Benedict. The memory of the way she’d cowered away from the confrontation with Benedict at the blast site replayed in his mind, making him wonder where her fighting spirit had been then. And if she’d had it at anytime during her marriage.