She wasn’t his, but he’d have laid his life down for hers tonight. He knew that with a certainty that hammered like a war drum in his veins. Fortunately, there were few situations where his genetics and training might fail him, but the truth of what he’d been willing to do for this woman he didn’t know and shouldn’t give a damn about took him aback as he carried her to the truck.
If he didn’t waste any more time, he could have her at the hospital in Henderson within the hour. Plenty of time to drop her at the door and make it back to the ranch well before sunrise, which was key for his own continued good health.
If he was lucky, maybe Zoe’s head injury would erase all recollection of what happened out here tonight—including his intervention. God knew he wished he could forget it, but he doubted very much he would ever purge the memory of her pretty face and sherry-colored eyes from his thoughts. To say nothing of her brutal near-demise.
Shifting her slight weight in his arms, he opened the passenger door and gently set her inside the cab. She started to list sideways but he righted her, forced to climb in partway along with her just so he could reach around and fasten her seatbelt to hold her in place for the drive ahead.
It wasn’t until that very moment that he spotted something else about her that he hadn’t noticed before now and damned sure was never going to forget.
“Son of a bitch.”
Beneath the stubborn curve of her chin, nearly obscured by sundry bruises, scrapes, and grime, was a small red birthmark he wouldn’t mistake for anything else.
A curse exploded out of him, low and ripe, as he stared at that singularly significant teardrop-and-crescent-moon symbol.
This female was a Breedmate.
Asher stared at her, fury mounting in him. That tiny mark changed everything. Because now that he’d seen it, this woman was no longer a problem he could simply roll into the nearest emergency room before speeding off to resume his life without looking back.
Women with this mark were rare. Precious. Cherished by his kind. Protected at all costs and with every last scrap of honor a Breed male possessed. Even a stone-cold killer like him respected that unwritten protocol.
But that didn’t mean he had to like it.
“Fuck.” Asher left her in the passenger seat and paced a tight circle on the dusty shoulder of the narrow two-lane while he tried to decide what to do about her now.
No choice but the obvious one. He had to take her back to the ranch with him.
And then he had some calls to make. Favors to ask of the only members of the Breed truly equipped to deal with a Breedmate on the wrong side of a powerful enemy who’d already made it clear that he wanted her dead.
Rounding the truck with determined strides, he climbed in behind the wheel and started the engine. It rumbled to life, vibrating like a low-level earthquake the way it always did for the first few minutes it was running. Not even that was enough to wake the injured Breedmate beside him on the wide bench seat.
Asher bit off another harsh curse and threw the truck into gear, roaring onto the deserted stretch of pavement. He drove as fast as the old Chevy could handle, not slowing down until he pulled off the main road and hit the dirt lane that would eventually dump them in front of Ned’s secluded homestead.
As he pulled up to the front of the place, the truck’s yellow headlights glancing off the old house and its collection of paddocks and outbuildings, he couldn’t help but try to view it through a stranger’s eyes—her eyes. And it definitely wasn’t much to look at. Not that he hadn’t taken care of it while he’d been there.
He had, the way Ned liked things done. Which meant the plumbing worked great, the foundation and construction were both rock-solid, and the place was well-insulated against the cold that clutched the desert on long winter nights. Asher had installed good windows and doors over the years, and had, at Ned’s insistence, added half a dozen solar panels to the roof to harness some of the energy off that relentless desert sunshine Asher took care to avoid.
He frowned as he noted the chipping white paint on the porch and the lack of any real landscaping or yard. The chicken coop was in good repair and wasn’t sagging. And the pair of bony old horses—Trixie and Jubilee, after Ned’s two sisters who had passed from smallpox when he was a toddler—had a paddock that Asher tended each night, making sure the barn was full of good, fresh hay and ample water.
But as far as charm? The old house and surroundings were decidedly lacking.
Not that he or Ned had ever needed charm.
And as far as Asher’s unexpected guest was concerned, she wouldn’t be staying long enough to suffer for any lack of luxury she might be accustomed to up in Vegas.
It was a safe place for her to lay her head until he could make necessary arrangements for her relocation. Because Breedmate or not, when those goons who’d been sent to make sure she stayed in the desert didn’t show up for work tomorrow, their employer was going to want answers. And Asher could only guess that there would be hell to pay once the casino boss learned he’d lost his men and the little thief he’d planned to eliminate.
He leapt out of the truck, pocketing his keys as he crunched over the gravel around to the other side. She flinched when he unfastened her seatbelt and gathered her into his arms. Her head slumped against his shoulder, her voice a thready whisper. “We home yet, Michael?”
Asher ground his molars together at the reminder of the male she apparently depended on for comfort, in spite of the fact thather Michaelhad evidently left her to contend with Gordo and his friends on her own.
“You’re safe now,” he told her tightly as he pivoted to kick the door shut behind him.
A mournful howl from the other side of the screen door greeted him as he stepped onto the porch. Sam, Ned’s aged yellow hound, peered at him from inside the house with pathetic big brown eyes. Asher shook his head slowly, confounded by the animal. Damned dog had him around day and night and generally paid him no mind unless he had food in his hands, but the second he left the ranch to run a quick errand, you’d think he’d left the poor mutt for the better part of a year.
With his elbow, Asher shoved open the door he never bothered to lock and stepped inside the dark house. Sam’s face, already pretty sad-looking thanks to Mother Nature, was even more pathetic as he regarded Asher and their new arrival with something close to disdain.
“Yeah, I know. I’m late and this doesn’t look like your bag of kibble.”
