And damn if appreciation didn’t hit him.
“Mommy?”
“Stay back, honey!” she called without glancing to the second level.
Tension electrified the room. The cold steel pressed harder against his vertebra. Time suspended. Any second, the bullet would tear through him.
Laine’s gaze was laser focused on a point beyond Roarke’s shoulder. He had to move. Needed Laine out of the crosshairs before something he couldn’t fix happened.
“Drop the gun!” the man bellowed.
Roarke exhaled through his nose. His pulse roared against his eardrums.
The man made a sound of impatience and moved the gun from Roarke’s spine.
Roarke threw back his elbow, catching him in the face.
“Get down!” Roarke yelled at Laine, praying like hell she fucking moved before a round was fired.
The man grunted and fought to take aim at Laine again. This time, Roarke clamped his hand around the guy’s windpipe and slammed him against the wall behind the door.
“What the hell does he want from her?” Roarke fumed. “She’s not goin’ back.”
The man’s dark eyes glittered. He laughed. “Cameron’s going to get his daughter back. And the bitch will be dead.”
Unspent violence shook Roarke’s forearms. Cameron’s wishes weren’t going to be fulfilled. Not while Roarke was breathing.
He positioned his hands beneath the guy’s chin. “Over my dead body.”
Blood dribbled from the asshole’s nose. His mouth split into a grin. “Go ahead, kill me. You can run, but you won’t make it out of here.”
Roarke twisted his hands on the man’s neck.
Crack
The fucker’s legs buckled, and his lifeless body sank to the ground. But his words circled in Roarke’s head, setting off warning bells. He spun toward the stairs.
Laine stood with the weapon pointed at the ground. Sunlight spilled through the window on the glass door, decorating her pale cheeks with a prism of color. Protectiveness rushed through him. He shoved his gun in the band of his sweatpants and then yanked her into his arms. “Are you all right?”
She didn’t hug him back, but her shoulders relaxed. Gently, he took the gun from her fingers and shoved it into his waistband as well.
A muffled cry came from the bedroom.
Laine tore from Roarke’s embrace and ran upstairs, flicking on the bedroom light. She hurried to the closet and dropped to her knees. Emmy launched herself into her mom’s arms.
Roarke wanted to comfort them. Hold them. Tell them it was over now.
He couldn’t do any of that.
He threw on a shirt and tossed his shit into a bag, including Laine’s and Emmy’s new documents. “We’ve gotta move, babe.”
Laine stood with Emmy in her arms, tears running down her cheeks. “Okay,” she mouthed. She lowered Emmy to her feet. “Honey, grab Big Bun and put on your sweater.”
“I don’t want to go,” Emmy wailed. But she did as she was told.
Roarke stood between Laine and Emmy, blocking the little girl’s view. He pressed a gun into her hand. “Take this. Safety’s on.”
She didn’t argue, but uncertainty tightened her mouth. She jerked her attention to Emmy, then stashed the weapon at her back. “Thank you.”
