Hostile Ground (The Arsenal #7) - Cara Carnes Page 0,123

you in.”

Arousal quickened her pulse when he smiled. Warmth spread through her. “That’s something I could get used to.”

“Me too,” she admitted. She took his hand and guided him to his room.

Anticipation pounded her pulse. She could almost ignore the bone-deep exhaustion plaguing her. Pleasure coursed through her when he kissed her. Guiding her to the bed, he positioned her beneath him, then severed the kiss and spread out beside her.

“I’d love nothing more than to make love to you right now, but you’re exhausted. We both are.” He rested her head on his shoulder. “Sleep.”

“You don’t want to have sex? Seriously?”

“I do, but your health matters more. You’ve gone too long without a full night’s rest.”

Wow. Her heart swelled with the realization he was more worried about her than fucking. When was the last time that had happened? Never.

Because you’ve never been in a serious relationship with anyone.

Damn.

Addy chewed on the thought for a few minutes and relaxed in his arms. The rightness of the moment cocooned her in a warm, hazy glow.

Comfort.

Addy startled awake as a crash echoed near the doorway. She sat up in the bed. Kristof’s bed. The nightstand clock indicated it was early morning. 6:32 a.m. to be precise.

She shoved the rightness of waking up beside him aside as Olaf darted into the room and stood in front of her. Eyes wide and pale, he signed. The frantic, rapid-fore movements forced her mind to alertness.

Help her. I can’t stop it. Help her.

Addy sprang from the bed, more than thankful she’d dragged Kristof’s T-shirt on rather than sleep naked beside him. She reached over and shook him awake. “Kristof. Something’s wrong.”

He jolted awake and sprang from the bed. Lean, powerful grace reflected in every inch of his bared skin. She took a second to appreciate the view as awareness arced through her.

Olaf yanked on her arm.

Right. Someone needed help.

Kristof darted toward the dresser, likely to find clothes. Addy halted in the living room and dragged on her pants, then shoved her bare feet into her boots.

Weapon.

Shit. She hadn’t had one with her when she’d come over.

No matter. If there was real trouble, she could signal one of the HERA drones.

“Show me,” Addy ordered.

Olaf darted out of the cottage and down the steps as though the hounds of hell were chasing his ass. Addy stifled a curse as she darted out after him. Early morning dawn barely cracked the sky. A rooster crowed somewhere near the barn.

When the hell had The Arsenal gotten chickens? Oh, wait. Zoey had mentioned Kamren had brought some over because Momma Mason wanted fresh eggs.

Fear coiled through her when Olaf darted into the cottage next door to the one he and Kristof shared. The cottage she shared with Bree.

Help her.

Olaf’s plea from moments ago fed Addy’s fear. Bree. Son of a bitch. She sprinted into the living room, took a second to visually sweep the area, then darted down the hall where Olaf pointed. Her pulse quickened when she entered Bree’s bedroom. Ropes, chains, and other paraphernalia were strewn about the floor.

Sounds echoed from the bathroom. Tension coiled Addy’s insides as she turned the corner. Ice water filled the bathtub to the rim. Bree crouched beside the tub and gripped its side as she held her head submerged beneath the icy contents.

“What the fuck?” Addy grabbed her friend about the waist and hauled her back.

Shock resonated within the woman’s gaze as she coughed and spat water from her mouth. Footsteps echoed behind her. She glanced over her shoulder and noted Kristof’s worried expression as he assessed the situation.

“Get some towels from the closet beside you,” Addy said. She grabbed ahold of Bree when she struggled to sit up. She rolled her to her side. “Don’t move. Breathe deep. In and out. You’re okay.”

What the hell was going on?

Addy’s gaze swept to the icy water. Waterboarding.

“I’m okay. Let me up,” Bree said, her voice reedy thin. She trembled. Her pale skin had taken on a slight blue tinge. Water soaked her bra and panties and beaded along her legs and back.

She’d submerged herself in the water at some point while clad only in her underwear. Anger mottled Addy’s thoughts a moment. Kristof crouched beside her and gently settled towels on Bree.

“Go and find a robe or something warm for Bree to wear,” Kristof said.

Olaf exited the room.

“Bree.” Addy touched the woman’s head. “What were you doing?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

“We aren’t doing this bullshit dance,” Addy growled. “You know better than try with me. What