“Your girl is tough; she’s got more than three minutes in her.” He pauses. “Breathe, Royce. You’re no good to her if you need oxygen when you get there.”
I want to laugh, but the adrenaline is already making me vibrate, and if I start, I have a feeling I won’t be able to stop.
“I’ll be fine.”
“There’s an alley off the east side of the building in the back that leads to the back door. Tell the unit there who you are and call me later. And Royce?”
“Yeah?” I say as I slam the car in park and toss my keys to the valet. He yells something I don’t hear and honestly it doesn’t matter. The car doesn’t matter—nothing else matters but her.
“I’m proud of you, kid. Now go get your girl.”
25
KINSLEY
“Ma’am, can you tell me your name?” The man in front of me isn’t dressed like a cop—ex-military if I had to guess. He’d commandeered a box for me to sit on after he took Zander to the floor with surprising ease.
I was thankful.
But it also kind of pissed me off considering I’d been fighting like hell and this guy had barely broken a sweat.
“Kinsley Dane.”
He nods, murmuring something into his earpiece that’s only noticeable because I’m watching him.
Uniformed officers peel Zander off the floor and push him out the back door, his eyes dark and menacing as he spits a mouthful of blood on the floor in front of me. The officer closest to me adjusts his hold on Zander, making him grunt as heaccidentallyelbows my former bodyguard in the gut.
My lips tip up on one side as I glance at the man next to me and he winks. “We’re gonna get you out of here as soon as possible, Miss Dane.”
“Kinsley, please,” I correct, because all I can hear is the menacing way Zander said it when he finally showed me the monster he really is.
“Kinsley.” He nods and then pauses before looking at the back door. “Send him in.”
“Jesus fucking Christ!” Royce breathes out as he barrels in, closing the distance between us in three strides before dropping to his knees in front of me.
“I want to go home,” I tell him, and he nods, his hands so much gentler than his tone as he pushes my hair back from my face.
“I know,” he says, pulling his sweatshirt over his head and handing it to me, then helping me put it on without flashing anyone as the torn fabric of my dress falls over my breast.
“Royce,” I whisper, but he shakes his head and presses the sweetest kiss to my lips.
“We have a lot to say but not here, okay?”
“Looks like you’re Superman after all,” I tease, nodding at the shirt I’d gotten him for Christmas. It was silly, but I can’t think of anything more perfect for this moment.
“I didn’t need a shirt to get me here, Coach.”
“Royce, the ambulance is here,” the man behind us says, and Royce nods.
“The wing is locked down?”
“Yes, your uncle has it all taken care of.”
Royce nods as my eyes widen.
“A lot to talk about,” he says with a shy smile. “But right now, I need to get you checked out,”—Royce swallows hard—“make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m okay.”
