Page 28 of Hot Lovin'

“Cover me,” I say, waiting for Tate and Ramirez to flank me. We’ve become a well-oiled machine, our movements synchronized by the necessity of the rescue.

“Ready on three,” I order. “One... two...”

“Three!” we shout in unison, boots storming through the kitchen and around a corner.

The scene inside halts us for a second, two figures frozen in surprise. Mike Hartless and his wife, their expressions flickering from shock to fear as they take in the badges and guns.

“Hands where I can see ‘em!” I bark out the command, even as I search frantically for Aiden.

“Please, don’t hurt us,” the woman pleads, her voice quivering.

“Shut it!” Tate snaps. “On the ground, now!”

They comply, dropping to their knees as Ramirez moves forward, zip ties in hand. The sound of plastic zipping shut is sweet music to my ears. But not as sweet as the next sound.

“Quinn!” A small figure barrels out of a closet, his voice cracking with relief and terror.

“Aiden!” I catch him as he launches himself into my arms. His little body shakes against mine, and I hold him close, feeling an unfamiliar burn behind my eyes. “You’re safe now, buddy. You’re safe.”

“You wescued me,” he whispers, his grip tight around my neck.

I press a kiss to his forehead, ignoring the throbbing pain in my arm. It’s nothing compared to what this boy has been through. “I’ll always rescue you, kid. Always.”

The Sheriff’s Office is quiet when we arrive. It’s a stark contrast to the chaos of the woods that rang with the sounds of radio chatter and voices calling out to each other. My team is still out there, investigating, collecting evidence, making a case against Aiden’s parents.

Now, Aiden is wrapped in my arms, his breathing finally evening out. He wouldn’t let me go while the paramedics checked him over, as if fearing I would disappear. He’s asleep as we step through the front door. A woman is inside, waiting on us. A woman I can’t wait to set eyes on. My Lottie.

“Lottie?” I call out softly, scanning the room. There she is, curled up in a chair, exhaustion painted across her delicate features. Her chest rises and falls in the steady rhythm of sleep.

“Lottie,” I say again, kneeling beside her.

My voice breaks through the stillness, and her eyelids flutter open. When her eyes focus on mine, they fill with tears, spilling over in silent streams of relief and joy.

“Quinn?” Her voice is hoarse, raw with worry and hope.

“Got someone here who wanted to see you but couldn’t stay awake,” I whisper, shifting Aiden so she can see his peaceful face.

Aiden doesn’t wake up at all. He’s safe, sleeping soundly in my arms.

“Oh, my god,” she gasps, her hands flying to cover her mouth.

Then she’s moving, wrapping her arms around both of us. Her embrace is fierce, protective, a lioness reclaiming her cub. A woman claiming her man.

“Thank you,” she breathes into my shoulder, her words vibrating straight to my heart. “Thank you for bringing him back to me.”

“Tu us,” I correct, my voice thick with emotion. Seeing Lottie like this, vulnerable yet strong, does something to me. I want to protect her, to keep her from ever experiencing this kind of fear again.

“I’m never letting go of either of you again,” she vows, her gaze locked with mine.

“Never,” I echo, and at that moment, I mean it more than I’ve ever meant anything.

With Aiden safe between us and Lottie’s warmth seeping into my bones, I realize she’s given me something I thought I’d lost a long time ago: hope. And proof that laughter and joy still exist in this life.

“Hey, you’re bleeding,” Lottie notices suddenly, her practical side kicking in as she spots the blood on my shirt.

“Occupational hazard,” I quip, trying for light-hearted but probably sounding gruffer than I intend. “The paramedics looked at it. Cleaned and put a waterproof dressing on it. The bullet took a chunk of muscle, but I’ll be fine.”

“Let me look at it,” she insists, already rising to her feet, her social worker instincts taking over.

---