The attacker went through the window.
Halfway through the open window, halfway through the glass because the top part of the window shattered as the man’s body heaved through it. Delaney screamed as she watched him topple out of the window and fall into the night.
The intruder’s partner chose that moment to try and run past her. Still on the floor, she acted on instinct. Her hand flew out and curled around his ankle, tripping him. He toppled toward the floor. His body hit with a jarring impact.
He rolled and tried to kick at her fingers.
Delaney snatched her hand back.
Only for Nash to catch the guy’s kicking foot in his hand. “You don’t attack a lady.” Nash twisted the foot he held. Hard.
So hard that the intruder screamed in agony and Delaney was pretty sure that Nash had just broken the man’s ankle.
And then…
Nash kicked the guy in the dick. “And you sure as hell don’t break into her bedroom in the middle of the night!”
Footsteps thundered outside of her bedroom. Then Ryan appeared in the doorway, a gun in his hand and his face twisted in fury. “What the hell?” His gaze took in the scene, fast. The man writhing in pain on the floor. Nash’s enraged form. Delaney crouched nearby. The rumpled bedding. The shattered window.
Ryan did a double take. “What did I just miss?”
“Get downstairs,” Nash ordered him. “See if a dead man is outside.”
Ryan blinked at him.
“About seventy percent sure I just killed the bastard,” Nash snarled.
Ryan shook his head. “Bro, that is not sweet. That is not gentle. That is not soothing.”
Nash glanced toward Delaney.
No, there had been nothing gentle about Nash. He’d flown into her room like an avenging angel. He’d kicked ass and taken names and been awesome.
She staggered to her feet and rushed to him.
“Delaney, go to my room. It’s the one right next to this one. Get the handcuffs out of the black bag at the foot of my bed.”
She paused, mid-rush. “You have handcuffs in your bedroom?”
The man on the floor tried to lunge at Nash.
Nash knocked him back down with a fast upper-cut. “In the black bag at the foot of my bed.”
Right. Right. Right. She spun and ran into his bedroom. After a frantic glance, she saw the black duffel bag at the foot of his bed. Her hands grabbed for it, she unzipped it and…Wow.
Guns in holsters. Knives. Rope. Duct tape. And, yes, sure enough, handcuffs. Swallowing, she reached for the handcuffs and tried to ignore the fact that it looked as if the man had some sort of kidnapping or murder bag at the ready. A bag that also contained at least three passports and an extremely thick, curled-up wad of cash.
“Delaney!” Nash shouted.
Her fingers tightened around the handcuffs as she raced back to him. As soon as she entered her bedroom, the horror scene was the same. A masked man writhing in agony. Nash glaring down at his prey. Broken glass from the window scattered on the floor.
Nash took the handcuffs from her. He rolled the intruder over and slapped the cuffs on him with fast and brutal movements. “You made the worst mistake of your life,” Nash told him. “You should have never come for her.”
Her breath sawed in and out. “Did Kurt send you?” she asked the intruder.
Nash yanked the guy to face him.
“I’ll never tell you, bitch!” the man spat. His hands were cuffed behind his back.
