pulled out of the embrace. “Are you okay?” Ben signed.
“I am now,” Bull signed his reply, not bothering to mouth the words. This was a private moment between them, as private as it could be in a house with three other people and a looming curfew.
“Is your friend okay?”
No jealousy, no interrogation…only genuine concern for another person’s well-being. Bull exhaled a shaky breath as Ben took his hand and led him out through the back door. He was surprised by Ben’s initiative. He wasn’t surprised by how easily he followed.
They sat next to each other on the porch bench out back. He took a few deep breaths as he stared out into the darkness. The cloud-covered night held the moon hostage, not allowing her to cast her glow. He was glad the neighboring streetlight was out and only a hint of light filtered through the window blinds of the house. The darkness created a private bubble…just Ben and him.
Ben pulled out the phone from his back pocket and typed out a message, the screen display illuminating his features with an almost ethereal glow.
He leaned in and read Ben’s message on the screen. What happened? He didn’t want to do this right now. Going into details would take too long and time was ticking closer toward curfew. He needed these minutes with Ben to replenish his reserve from these last few days and have enough stored to get him through the night. He shook his head, not wanting to lose these precious minutes with Ben with talk of work.
But he couldn’t control his thoughts, absently replaying the last few days.
After Rachel’s multi-day visit and checking off all the meetings and tasks in her itinerary, he escorted her through the small, private terminal of the Miami business airport to her waiting jet.
He held open the door. He led, keeping her close as they stepped out onto the tarmac. Two steps and every hair on the back of his neck prickled in warning. A sound, a feeling…a combination of both. He held out his arm, stopping her.
“Stop,” he said as he steered her back inside. She didn’t hesitate, likely recognizing his no-nonsense tone.
With his hand on the door handle of the terminal’s office, he turned his body to the side, shielding her at the very moment a whisper of air breezed by his ear and a bang of metal sounded. Instantly, his attention snapped toward the sound of impact.
A bullet hole had pierced the metal doorframe.
“I doubt anyone would put a bullet in my head because I run a company.” He imagined she would never utter those words in jest again.
Instinct took over, guarding his client while quickly assessing the situation, calculating and then scanning the potential line of sight of the shooter. The smaller airport located smack in the middle of a busy area made it too easy to gain cover while taking a shot.
The next forty-eight hours sped by in a blur. After a flurry of questions and no leads to follow, he had personally accompanied Rachel back to the home office on a commercial flight to ensure her safety. After their arrival, they had worked with Anthony on the framework for an escalated security plan. With the plan in motion and his role complete for the time being, he jumped on another plane back to Miami.
He didn’t want to think about everything that had happened, he wanted to enjoy the few minutes with Ben.
Bull shook his head again, hoping to clear his mind of the memory and shake away some of the stress thrumming through his body. He held out his hand, palm side up. He had left his phone in his SUV and didn’t want to lose another minute to retrieve it. It was too dark for Ben to read his lips and signing required him to have some space between them. There was a certain level of privacy when they exchanged notes via phone. And right now, he craved that.
Ben placed the phone in his hand, the concern clearly blazing in that green gaze.
Bull typed out a note. Someone shot at us Tuesday. I had to make sure my client made it back home safely.
The gasp cut through the silence seconds before arms wrapped around his neck in a tight embrace.
He didn’t need convincing. He rested his head against Ben’s and slid his arm around Ben’s waist, welcoming the comfort. This was what he needed. The contact. Confirmation that he was still alive and breathing.
As each minute passed,