Page 190 of Protecting You

Callan pulled her close again, and she melted against him. It was over.

Thank You, God.

* * *

Outside the tinybedroom that had been her prison, a whirlwind of activity. Men shouting, a helicopter landing.

Alyssa could do nothing but sit on the bed, back to the wall, and fight to stay conscious.

Callan had left to help with…whatever it was they were doing, his daughter clamped to him.

The door opened, and she expected him to step inside. But it wasn’t Callan. It was Dad.

She’d known he was there, then forgotten. Whatever was wrong with her brain, she prayed it wouldn’t be permanent.

Dad crossed the room and sat on the bed beside her.

“I’m sorry, Dad. I shouldn’t have?—”

“Thank God you’re all right.” He crushed her to his chest. “You saved that child’s life. And your life.”

His embrace made her head pound, but she didn’t tell him. She didn’t back away. She craved that embrace, had craved it since she was twelve years old.

He let her go and leaned back.

Her vision was a little blurry, but she thought she saw tears streaming from his eyes as he pressed his hands to her cheeks. “Alyssa. Are you with me?”

She must’ve looked horrible for him to ask. She worked very hard to focus. “I’m all right.”

His gaze flicked from one of her eyes to the other. “Hear me. I love you. I adore you. I’m so proud of you, of everything you’ve done. You’re brilliant. You’re kind and generous. You’re so, so brave.” His voice cracked. “I’m sorry I’ve done a lousy job of telling you that. I almost…I could’ve… If you’d died not knowing…” He pulled her against his chest again. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

She didn’t know what to say, couldn’t form a response. There was no response to express what his words meant to her. She settled with the simple truth, the only truth that really mattered. “I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you, sweetheart. I always have.”

She rested in those words. Rested knowing she’d pleased her earthly father.

And her Heavenly Father, who’d saved her life.

CHAPTERFORTY-EIGHT

Callan paced in the waiting room of the Portland hospital, his daughter on his hip. She was too old to be carted around like a toddler, but he certainly wasn't complaining.

Peri had barely let him go since he’d taken her back from Grant the night before.

She’d fallen asleep on the boat ride to shore. He might have been able to lay her down across the padded bench seat, but he'd needed to feel her in his arms.

If not for Peri, he might’ve fought Gavin for the empty seat on the helicopter that had carried Alyssa straight to the hospital. But her father had the right to be with her.

Somehow, both of their daughters had survived.

There’d been hours of questions from the local police and the FBI. He’d told the police what he knew, then listened while Peri told the story from her perspective. How Alyssa had shown up, taken care of her, protected her.

How she’d told Peri to hide, then pushed her when a gun had fired. How Peri had dropped in the crack between the edge of the bed and the wall.

How she’d watched from under the bed as Alyssa had charged Benson.

How the gun had slid across the wood, right to her.

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