“Fuck! You little bitch, you’re gonna pay for that!” Ryder let go of her long enough to pull back and slap her across the face. Jenny screamed, but his fingers crushed down over her mouth again, and it sounded more like a whimper.
The buzz of his zipper sliding down was the last thing she heard before the door crashed open, splinters flew, and Cain Barrett burst into the room. He took one look at the big bald biker, yanked him off her, and smashed a fist into his ugly face.
The fight was on as the two big men swung a series of blows, but there was no stopping Cain. The fury in his eyes said he would kill Ryder if he had to.
She glanced from Cain to Ryder as she rolled out of the bed, saw that the biker’s nose and mouth were bleeding, one of his eyes beginning to swell. Grabbing the brass lamp on the nightstand with shaking hands, she took a steadying breath, braced her feet apart, and swung the lamp with all her strength, crashing it against the side of Ryder’s head.
The biker swayed on his feet. Cain’s last punch sent him hurling into the wall, his big body sliding down to the floor, his head lolling forward, unmoving. Cain stood over him, breathing hard, his dark eyes still burning with fury. His fists were clenched, his powerful biceps bulging.
Jenny sagged down on the edge of the bed. She couldn’t stop shaking. In all the years she had been around the bar, nothing like this had ever happened.
Cain bent down and checked Ryder’s pulse, pulled out his cell, and called 911. A few quick words, and he ended the call. “The cops are on the way.”
Since the police station was right across the street, it wouldn’t take long for them to get there. She should have been relieved, but instead, the fear she’d been feeling rushed back with the force of a blow, and a sob caught in her throat.
Cain turned at the sound. He walked over to where she sat on the side of the bed. She flinched as he reached toward her, and his hand fell away. “You’re all right, honey. He’s not going to be hurting anyone anytime soon.”
Jenny couldn’t control the shaking. She wrapped her arms around herself, but it didn’t do any good.
“Let me hold you,” Cain said. “You’re safe with me, I promise you.”
She shouldn’t. She was a grown woman. She didn’t need someone to take care of her, and yet . . . Trembling all over, she rose from the bed, and Cain eased her into his arms.
“I won’t let anyone hurt you,” he said. “Everything’s going to be all right.”
Jenny rested her head on his shoulder, and her fear slid slowly away. She was safe. The police were on the way, and Cain was there.
She lifted her head to look at him. “Thank you. If . . . if you hadn’t come along when you did . . .”
She felt the tremor that went through Cain’s big body.
“How did . . . how did you know?” she asked.
“I’ve got good instincts. I had a hunch those guys would be back.”
“I checked the door. I don’t know how . . . how he got in.”
“It was bolted when I got here, but I could hear you inside. Probably opened the door with a lock pick. Guy like him would know how to use one.” Cain glanced at the splintered door, destroyed by a kick from his heavy leather boot. “You need to put chains on these doors.”
She realized her trembling had stopped and forced herself to move away. “They’re on order. I’ll put them up as soon . . . as soon as they get here.” At least the sound of the chain breaking would have given her some warning.
She turned to see two of Jerome’s finest rushing into the room, realized her sleep-tee was ripped halfway to her waist on one side, and straightened it as best she could. Cain pulled the blanket off the bed and draped it around her shoulders. She gave him a whispered “Thanks.”
“What’s going on here?” one of the officers asked. Gerry Simmons, tall, bean-pole thin, and a really nice guy. Jenny knew all the guys in the local police department, which consisted of a chief, a lieutenant, two full-time, and two part-time officers.
“Ms. Spencer was attacked by the man over there on the floor,” Cain said. “Fortunately, I got here in time to stop him.”
“Nice work,” Gerry said. “You’re Cain Barrett, right? You’re the new owner of the Grandview?”
“That’s right.”
The other officer, Neal Gibbons, a nice-looking, gray-haired man, knelt to check on Ryder’s condition, then locked a pair of handcuffs around the biker’s thick wrists. “EMTs are on the way. Won’t take ’em long to get here.”
Jerome had a well-trained volunteer fire department, with a station house also on Main Street, not far away.
Ryder groaned and roused himself enough to realize his hands were cuffed behind him.
“Take it easy,” Neal said. “Paramedics are on the way. They’ll take you to the hospital in Verde Valley.”
