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All I know for sure is that whatever happens next, I’m not the one who will be rescued. Regaining myself, I mutter, “There were twenty men holed up in here, and none of them thought to fix the door? That is singularly the most masculine thing I have ever heard of in my life.”
Corbin shrugs, looking awfully tense, with a side of discomfort. How sweet. He’s stuck with a loon, but my tears have unsettled him.
At long last, the solid, broken door whips open, sending a reverberating thunder into the space. “Move, and I put a bullet in y—” Rowan freezes as the emptiness before him registers. His dark eyes snap from me to Corbin, and back to me.
Lamely, I wave and wipe my cheeks. Pulling myself up like a rag doll, I get Corbin’s knife back from where I dropped it—because I’m keeping it as a souvenir, naming it Sally—and check to make sure in the “excitement” of this mess I returned the gun Corbin stole to my holster. I did. Cool. “I’m going to head home and take a four-year nap. I’ll let Cor and you catch up. Pleasure doing business, and all that.”
Rowan’s strides carry him across the expanse in two split seconds. His arms close around me, crushing. Breath leaves my chest. My heart trips, hiccups, stumbles and falls. For a blinding moment, it feels almost like I’m being rescued.
He swears into my hair. “Briar.” His fist grips against my back.
Sally slips from my fingers as Rowan inhales sharply, burying his face against my neck.
Broken, he whispers, “You’re okay.”
“I’m…” Getting there. Maybe. He’ll have to hug me a lot longer. Probably forever.
“I thought Granger’s men…”
My brow furrows. I look toward Corbin, find confusion on his face, too. Don’t tell me Rowan went rogue? What do Granger’s men have to do with anything? They were the first thing Corbin took care of after their little scuffle, and then he reported to Aster, or, well, Lance. How did Rowan know I was here if he didn’t also know Corbin had me?
Why would my friends give him part truths like that?
More drama in reuniting the best buds?
That’s super cute. I approve. I don’t get a moment to inquire, however, because Rowan tosses me over his shoulder, turns on his heel, and marches for the exit in the next instant.
“H-hey,” Corbin protests.
Rowan’s scowl could kill. “I don’t know what’s going on, but someones should have communicated with me before I drove—panicked—for an hour, thinking the worst.”
“Wha…” Corbin’s tone pricks with irritation. “Are you serious, Rowan?”
I blink. Twist. Grapple for stability. “When he tried to communicate with you, you punched him in the face.”
Rowan’s eyes narrow on me, lethal. “That’s how men communicate. He should have swung back.”
Male logic continues to astound me. However, female logic brought me down a convoluted path to here, so maybe I don’t have a place to speak.
A cool night breeze envelops me after Rowan slams the subpar door behind him.
Dread wells in my chest, and I swallow hard. “Are you really going to leave Corbin in there? He’s your best friend. You had a falling out, which was my fault.”
“I’ll send someone to get him later. Probably.”
Probably?
“Also, our falling out wasn’t your fault. I told him not to mess with you. He did. I confronted him about it, and he treated my feelings like a joke. I don’t know why he’s here and Granger’s men aren’t, but if he’s still messing with you, then I’m not ready to forgive him or apologize.”
Something clicks, and I pale. “Wait. You…thought twenty men had me, yet you charged in here alone?”
He grunts.
Okay, now who needs help communicating?
I smack his back. “You would have died.”
He dumps me into the front seat of his car. “Does it look like I care?”
