Hard to Handle (Caine Cousins #2)(33)

When Rhys had been silent too long for his peace of mind, Lynx took a deep breath, tried to calm himself. “Where’s Reagan, Rhys? Is she okay?”

“I… I don’t know, man. She seems to be, but I don’t know. She said they were leavin’, but the doors were jammed up. And then the goddamn place exploded. Looks like someone shoved a metal pipe through the front door handles, making it nearly impossible to escape.”

Lynx tore out of the dirt drive and onto the main road into town, the back end of his truck fishtailing. His heart was jackhammering in his chest.

“Reagan blasted them with her shotgun, managed to weaken the wood enough… Fuck.”

Hell yeah. That was his girl.

“An ambulance is on the way,” Rhys continued, his words rushed. “Just get here.”

“On my way,” he said, his voice louder than he intended for it to be. “Five minutes, max.”

The phone disconnected, and Lynx automatically dialed his uncle’s number.

“This better be good,” the old man grumbled.

“Calvin? How fast can you get over to Reagan’s?”

His uncle groaned softly. “What’s wrong, boy?”

“Don’t know, but there’s been an explosion. Wolfe was there…” Lynx exhaled roughly. “Don’t know more than that. Can you get over there?”

When the man spoke again, he sounded completely coherent. “Grabbin’ my boots and I’m on my way.”

“Thanks.” Lynx didn’t know quite what he was thanking the man for, but he knew for a fact Calvin would be pissed if something happened to Wolfe and no one notified him.

With his due diligence done, Lynx tossed his phone onto the dashboard, then gripped the wheel with both hands and put his foot to the floor. “Hold on, Cope. It’s gonna be a wild ride, buddy.”

Lynx wasn’t sure he’d ever driven that fast. A couple of times he had to reach over and grab Copenhagen to keep him from being thrown into the backseat or the floorboard. By the time they made it to the bar — the fucking bar that was fully engulfed in flames — the place was in utter chaos. Cars and trucks lining the side of the road and the outer part of the parking lot, lights flashing from the emergency vehicles on site, people every-fucking-where.

“Stay,” he ordered Copenhagen, leaving the window down after parking on the side of the main road.

Lynx shot out of the truck and ran toward the ambulance, his eyes scanning anyone and everyone.

The instant he caught sight of Reagan, Lynx’s breath seized in his lungs. He stopped, skidding on the gravel and changing direction. She was sitting on the tailgate of Wolfe’s truck, the ambulance parked beside them.

“Reagan.” His voice was nothing more than gravel and dust.

Her wide eyes lifted to his face and he nearly fell to his knees. Somehow he kept himself upright, not stopping until he reached her.

“Lynx.” There were tears in her eyes, but it was clear she was holding them back.

His heart didn’t start beating again until he had her in his arms, her face pressed to his chest.

“God, girl,” he whispered, cradling the back of her head as carefully as he could. He didn’t know if she was hurt, or where, and he damn sure didn’t want to hurt her.

Unable to help himself, he pulled back, forcing her to look up at him momentarily. He scanned her face, noticing the soot smudged on one cheek. Other than that, he saw no signs of damage. Only when he was satisfied there were no injuries — none that were visible anyway — did he pull her back against him.

While he held her, Lynx glanced around, cataloging all the faces. He knew it wouldn’t matter. The bastard who had done this wasn’t sitting around waiting for them to catch him. If he had to guess, he was probably halfway to Houston by now.

“Hey, Reagan,” Rhys said softly when he approached.

Lynx met her brother’s eyes, ignoring the concerned look the man gave him.

When she didn’t pull back, Lynx didn’t let go.

“They wanna take you to the hospital,” Rhys said, talking to his sister. “Said you probably have a concussion. You need to be looked at.”

She shook her head, but the movement was shielded by Lynx’s body.

“No hospital,” she muttered. “I’m fine.”

Lynx met Rhys’s hardened gaze and held it. “I’ll take care of her.”

That didn’t seem to be what Rhys wanted to hear.

Sure, Lynx got it. His reputation preceded him, and he understood why Reagan’s brother would be worried. That didn’t mean he gave two shits. He wasn’t leaving Reagan, and if she didn’t want to go to the hospital, no one could make her.

“Damn hardheaded women,” Rhys grumbled.

Lynx glanced over to see Amy shaking her head, her eyes wide, her face as white as the bandage on her head. “I take it she ain’t goin’, either.”

“Nope. They said hers isn’t serious. Shallow wound on her scalp from a piece of glass, which bleeds like a bitch.”

They did. Lynx knew that for a fact.

“But she was unconscious,” Reagan said, pulling back slightly to look at her brother.

“Not from a head wound. They think she passed out from the shock.”

Considering all the woman had been through, Lynx could understand that.