Page 14 of Outlaw Ridge: Ryker
“I’m firing a warning shot,” Ryker said, lifting his hand and adjusting his aim.
But before he could pull the trigger, a blast ripped through the field, sudden and blinding, a burst of fire and dirt and concussive force that sent Emma stumbling back.
Heat. Noise. Light.
Then everything disappeared in a wave of sound.
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Chapter Four
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The cruiser was silent on the ride back to the station. Silent except for the faint hiss of the heater and the occasional static burst from the radio. Ryker kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting lightly against his thigh, knuckles scraped raw from diving behind rocks and shrapnel.
Emma and he were both covered in grime. Bruised. Spent.
And pissed.
Whoever had set up that oil field ambush hadn’t just tried to kill them, they’d wiped out evidence. Anything the CSIs might’ve used to trace the shooter or the explosives was either buried in rubble or charred to ash. Now the forensics team was stuck picking over twisted metal and scorched brush, trying to make sense of a scene someone haddesignedto be senseless.
Emma hadn’t said a word since they’d started the drive back. But Ryker didn’t need her to. He felt the stew of emotions radiating off her. Tight anger, shaken nerves and fury wrapped in shame. Shame because she was still no doubt blaming herself for all of this.
By the time they reached the station and pushed through the back door, the weight of it all was crashing down on both of them. Ryker didn’t lead her toward the squad room. Instead, he maneuvered her toward the cold case office. Somewhere private. Quiet.
Emma stepped inside first, her movements stiff. As soon as the door shut behind them, she braced her hands against the table, her head down as if gravity had finally won.
Ryker crossed the room in two strides. He didn’t say a word. Just pulled her into his arms. She didn’t resist. Didn’t speak.
Not at first anyway.
He felt the tremor run through her, subtle in the beginning, then harder. Her fists clenched against his chest, and she let out a breath that sounded more like a choked sob.
Then the words came, sharp and low. “Dammit. I hate this. Ihatefeeling this shaken.”
Her voice cracked at the edges, like she wanted to bite the words back the second they escaped.
Ryker didn’t let go.
“Getting rattled after someone tries to turn you into fireworks doesn’t make you weak,” he murmured against her hair. “It makes you sane. Personally, I screamed like hell, just internally and very heroically.”
His attempt at humor was a win. Well, for a heartbeat or two anyway. Emma attempted a smile, but then she shook her head. “I can’t afford to fall apart.”
“You’re not,” he said quietly. “You’re still standing.”
And he was going to make damn sure she stayed that way.
There was a knock at the door, sharp, quick, and businesslike.
Emma stepped back from him instantly, scrubbing a hand over her face like she could erase the moment. Ryker let her go, but he didn’t move far. Didn’t want to.
The door creaked open, and Sheriff Hallie McQueen stepped inside, taking one look at them before arching a brow.
“I’m not going to ask how you’re doing,” she said, her tone flat. “It’s obvious you look like hell. How bad?”
Ryker straightened and rolled his shoulder, wincing a little at the ache blooming there. “Just scrapes and bruises. Nothing deep.”
Hallie crossed her arms. “You two get checked out by the EMTs?”
