The relief filling her made it hard to breathe. She cupped his cheek. His green-gold gaze met hers and she pressed her lips to his mouth, before moving her lips across his face and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheekbone.
“I’m very pleased you didn’t get blown up,” she said.
“Me too,” he said.
She felt a lump at his temple. He must’ve bumped his head.
“You shielded me,” she said.
“I’ve got plans for that body of yours, so I didn’t want you getting hurt.”
Nearby, Bram made an unhappy sound.
Hadley glanced at her friend. “Bram, Ajay’s backpack was filled with explosives. Secure the scene.”
Her friend looked relieved to have something to do. “Killian’s on the way. Sure you’re all right?”
She nodded.
He strode off, barking at the crowd to stay back.
Hadley turned her attention back to Bennett. “Any other injuries?”
He shook his head, then winced. “I’m fine. A little headache.” But she watched as pain and anger suffused his face. “Ajay…”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Fuck.”
She gripped his hands. “Kitty?”
“In custody.”
“Good. We’ll get the answers we need. We’ll find whoever did this.”
“He wanted this to go off in the theatre,” Bennett said. “How many more will die before we catch him?”
“We’ll get him, Bennett.”
The wail of sirens announced the arrival of emergency services. The adrenaline was starting to fade, and pain had begun to creep in. Her hands and knees were scraped and bruised.
Bennett rose, and helped her up.
Damn, her legs were a little wobbly. She saw him scan where the bomb had gone off, a grim look on his face.
David and Killian arrived. Her boss gave her a hard look. “You’re both okay?”
She nodded, and he patted her arm.
“What a bloody mess,” David said. “You sure you’re both uninjured?”
Hadley nodded. “Just a few scrapes. You have Kitty Wentworth in custody. She knows who this L’Orage imposter is. Whoever they are, they’re responsible for Ajay’s death.”
“Oh, we’ll be asking Lady Wentworth plenty of questions,” David said.
“I want to be there for the questioning,” Bennett said.
“Not tonight.” David looked at them both. “You look like you’ve been dragged through the gutter. I suggest you get out of here. The vultures—otherwise known as the press—will arrive soon like a pack of dogs. A bomb in Covent Garden is big enough news, but Bennett Knightley almost getting blown up will have them champing at the bit. Report in tomorrow. For now, get cleaned up and get some rest.”