“Lisette! No. It’s not safe.” I almost fall on my face before I get the denim over my hips, and thud down the stairs barefoot. “Don’t!” I shout. She’s nothing but a blur through the front door.
I don’t care that I’m not wearing a shirt. Or shoes. Or briefs. But my gun. Shit.
Her scream pierces the night air.
Fuck the gun.
I bolt after her. On the street, a man drags Lisette toward the corner. She twists and kicks, finding his shin. He swears and shoves her—hard. Her head hits a parked car, and she slumps to the ground.
The fucker’s dead. He just doesn’t know it yet.
I tackle him, and we crash to the pavement together. Blows rains down on my torso. He’s got six inches and at least a hundred pounds on me, but he doesn’t know how hard I’ll fight for the woman I love—even if she can’t love me back after what I’ve done.
My knee lands on his family jewels. I wrap my hands around his throat, squeezing the life out of him.
He thrashes, arms and legs flapping helplessly as he struggles to breathe. I release him seconds before he passes out and slam my fist into his cheek. Blood spurts from his lips. A second hit. Then a third.
His body goes slack.
I punch him again for good measure before I spring for Lisette and pull her into my arms. “Sweetheart, talk to me.”
With a little moan, she collapses against me. Fuck.
Picking her up, I hustle back inside and deposit her on the sofa. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
Leaving her is the last thing I want to do, but I can’t take a chance that shitstain on the sidewalk has friends.
Her attacker leaves a bloody smear on the concrete as I drag him to her entryway and let him fall roughly onto the tile. He’s still out cold—thank God—but that won’t last long.
I lock the door, race upstairs, and grab my gun, clothes, and duffel bag before returning to the entryway. Flipping him over, I zip tie his wrists behind his back, then secure his ankles and pat him down.
Markov, switchblade, phone, and wallet with more than five hundred euros in it.
“Nomar…” Lisette sways at the top of the entryway stairs. “Who…is he?”
“Stay there,” I grit out. He’s not going anywhere for at least a few minutes. After that…I’m going to kill him for touching her.
A knot the size of a golf ball swells on Lisette’s forehead, but there’s no blood. She stands stiffly, and when I try to wrap my arm around her waist, she pulls away. Fuck.
“I know you hate me right now—and you have every right to—but I need you to listen. Go upstairs. Pack three days of clothes for both you and Mateen. Your passports. Any medications you need. Stay up there until I tell you it’s safe to come down. We’re leaving in twenty minutes.”
“What about Mateen? He is still with his class…” Tears gather in her eyes. God, the fear in her voice is going to break me.
“I’ll text Griff now, and we’ll call him as soon as we’re clear. Now, go. Please. I don’t want you to see what I have to do next.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Nomar
I pull on my shirt,socks, and shoes, then kneel next to the asshole. He doesn’t have ID. Only money and a handful of prepaid credit cards.
A hard slap rouses him, and he lets loose with a string of curses in Dari.
I lean down so my lips are only inches from his ear. “Who do you work for?”
“Fuck you.”
“Have it your way.” I cover his mouth with one hand, and dig the fingers of the other under his collarbone.
