The barn doors loomed in front of me, outlined by a thin line of light, barely there through the gap. I didn’t slow down. I grabbed the edge of the big rolling door and wrenched it open wider, so hard one of the hinges shrieked.
I stepped into chaos.
Chrissy was on the ground, heels skidding on icy concrete as she tried to scramble backward. Number Eight, Brett, had a fist wrapped in her coat at the shoulder, holding her in place. Hayden stood just to the side, blocking the path back toward the doors, his handsome face twisted into something ugly.
Between them, she looked small and furious and terrified all at once.
One of her knees was torn through her leggings. Her hair was a mess around her shoulders, eyes wild and wet. Her cheek was already bruising from where someone had grabbed or hit her.
My vision tunneled. Noise thinned to a high ringing whine in my ears.
I didn’t see decoys I’d hired. I didn’t see employees who’d broken contract. I saw two men who had their hands on my woman.
“Let. Her. Go.”
I barely recognized my own voice.
They both startled, then spun toward me. Chrissy’s gaze snapped to mine at the same time, and I felt that look like a punch.
“Ben—” she choked out.
Hayden recovered first, mouth twisting into a sneer.
“Looks like the lord of the manor finally decided to join us,” he said. He still had his hand too close to her. Far too close. “Bit late, don’t you think?”
Brett laughed under his breath.
“She was about to run, boss. We were just convincing her that was a bad idea, that’s all.”
It wasn’t all. They were both hard and Brett’s jeans were unzipped
He squeezed her shoulder and she flinched.
That was it. I moved without thinking.
There was a shovel propped against a support beam a few feet away, metal blade glinting dull under the weak barn light. My hand closed around the handle as I passed it. I didn’t consciously decide what I was going to do. No, I moved on autopilot, my mind nothing but a hive of infinite rage and white noise.
I crossed the space between us in three long strides and swung for Brett’s head.
He saw the movement a split second before it connected, trying to duck away, which meant instead of taking his head off, the edge of the shovel smashed into his shoulder and upper back.
Bone cracked.
He went down, face-first, with a shout, Chrissy ripping free of his grip.
“Jesus — Ben!” he coughed, scrambling on hands and knees.
It wasn’t enough. They’d tried to take Chrissy from me. They were going to rape her and do God only knows what else after that.
I shifted my grip and swung again.
This time I caught him along the ribs with the flat of the shovel head. Air rushed out of him in a strangled wheeze. He curled in on himself, trying to protect his sides, but there was nowhere for him to go. The barn floor was slick with ice melt and tracked-in mud; his boots slipped out from under him.
“Get the hell away from her,” I snarled.
Hayden rushed me from the side, aiming high, fist flying. He’d always been decent in stunt work, but he’d never fought someone who wasn’t pretending.
I let the punch catch my jaw, used the momentum to pivot and bring the shovel up from below.
