She heard a bump and a ragged breath behind her, and she turned—too late—to see that there was another man, also dressed all in black, still inside the house.
She was between him and the exit, so he went directly through her, aiming low and hitting her hard in the solar plexus with his shoulder, pushing her with him out the screen door. She heard herself squeaking—he’d knocked the air clear out of her and she could not get enough of a breath to full-on scream—and her phone went flying, a little voice on the other end saying, “What is your emergency?” as it tumbled through the air.
Shay went flying, too, as the man grabbed her and took her with him. He launched himself off the stoop and over the bushes to the front lawn, where they landed in a tangle of arms and legs. Shay kicked and hit and slapped and thrashed, trying to get free as she struggled to suck in oxygen. But then the man moved so that most of his body weight was on top of her—it was a ploy, she realized, to force Peter to let go of the first man.
“Shay!” Peter shouted.
“I bet you’d be fun to tie up and fuck,” her burglar breathed into her ear, and it pissed her off so much that instead of screaming, she used what little breath she’d collected to gasp, “I’m FBI, asshole, and you are under arrest!”
Her goal was to get him off of her while Peter was still detaining the first man, but alas, the SEAL had already abandoned his burglar so he could race over to rescue her. And of course, as soon as he let go, that first man scrambled out of the yard and was already halfway down the street.
As for Mr. Tie-Her-Up-and-Fuck-Her, he quickly rolled off of Shayla. Peter was pounding toward them, his teeth practically bared. If she were an asshole-bad-guy, and sawthatcoming at her, she would’ve run like hell, too. The man bolted in the opposite direction that his co-burglar had gone, which was smart, since Peter now would have to choose whom to chase.
Not that he was about to go after either of them while she was lying there, still unable to fully catch her breath, with bits of his lawn in her hair and probably even in her teeth. Shay struggled to sit up as Peter skidded to his knees next to her. “Don’t move, baby,” he told her. “Just stay right there.”
Thatbabyaside, his concern for her was actually quite lovely to see as he ran his hands gently around the back of her head, and then down her entire body, arms and legs included.
“I’m okay,” she told him, still unable to do more than whisper as he helped her sit up.
“Did he hit you in the throat?” he asked, his hands now warm on her neck.
“No. Here.” She pointed to her center.
“Good,” he said. “I mean, notgood. But better than…” He held her face between his hands. “Jesus, Shay, I’m so sorry.”
“How was this your fault?” she whispered.
“I should’ve checked that the house was clear before I left you in there with a fucking intruder.” Peter helped her to her feet as the first emergency vehicle arrived—sirens screaming. It was, of course, a fire truck.
He looked at her. “You called the fire department?”
Shay looked at him. But he was a smart man, and he figured it out even as she pointed at her phone, which was still lying on the lawn.
“They said,nine-one-one, you saidUghor a variation, so the dispatcher made his best guess,” Peter said as a police cruiser also pulled up.
And, of course, since the police had no idea why the emergency call had been placed and all they saw was a large man with his hands on a woman who looked like she’d just been tackled and thrown onto the front lawn, they exited their vehicle with a lot of noise and hostility.
“Sir, step away from the woman! Ma’am, are you all right?”
Peter put his hands up, and Shay did, too, because yeah, those guns were drawn.
“I’m all right,” she called out in as clear a voice as possible—glad she had back at least this much ability to talk. “I’m Shayla Whitman, I live across the street. This is Navy SEAL Lieutenant Peter Greene. He lives here. We went inside his house and interrupted either a burglary or a home invasion in progress. Two men, both dressed in black, ski masks, gloves. One of them assaulted me in his haste to get away.”
Crap, even though she’d played the Navy SEAL card, the two officers didn’t lose their expressions of grim suspicion, and those weapons didn’t get lowered.
But then a thin voice piped up. “I saw the whole thing from my window. It’s true.” It was Mrs. Quinn. “I even saw the two men when they first arrived. Someone dropped them off and drove away. They were riding in the back of a big black truck. They knocked on the front door, but then they went around to the back.” She looked at Shayla. “You and the SEAL must’ve been in the garage, doing God knows what.”
But Shayla ignored the elderly woman’s obvious judgment and focused on the most important thing that she’d said. “A big black truck?” She looked at Peter. “Wasn’t the truck, you know, with the bucket…? Wasn’t that also big and black?”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
$12K NOW
The large block letters were written on the wall of Maddie’s bedroom in red spray paint. The police had taken away the paint canister, but since the intruders had been wearing gloves, no one expected them to find any fingerprints.
“This can’t be good,” Shayla said, taking Peter’s hand because if this message had shown up on Tevin’s or Frank’s wall, she would’ve wanted someone holdingherhand.
He was silent, just looking at it.
