CHAPTER 1
This was supposed to be a mission to buy the team donuts, instead I push through the swinging door, looking for the missing clerk.
The small kitchen wears the marks of a struggle. Spilled ingredients. Erratic footprints in the debris.
Moving quickly, I clear the corners and open supply closet.
“You fucking bitch. Learn your lesson this time. Stay out of business that's not yours."
My focus shifts to the open back door. Temper flaring as I put the pieces together. Woman working, man coming in the back door. A domestic threat.
There's a muscle ticking under my eye as I move toward the exit. Some asshole's about to get a lesson in manners. Courtesy of my big ass fist.
“Ooof!” A woman gasps as she bounces off my front as she barrels through the door. “Who…who are you?”
Her effort to get away from me almost sends her crashing to the floor, but I catch her arm, hauling her upright.
“Easy there, I heard some kind of trouble.”
I pull her further inside, clocking the fact that she’s wearing an angry mark on her face. Not stopping to decode that before I put my six-foot-four-inch body between this small creature and the asshole who scared her.
She’s trembling, deer in headlights, staring at the door.
“He’ll be gone by now. He made his point,” she says, breathless, shaking.
”Stay here, I’m going for a look,“ I push her behind one of the work benches, gently easing her down, as I draw my pistol. ”Get low. I’ll be back.“
She hesitates for a second before sinking down on the floor, holding her knees to her chest. I don’t have time to process what seeing her like that does to me.
I’ve rescued dozens of women all over the world.
Just rescued my teammate’s girl hours ago.
Maybe that’s why I’m kicked hard by the bruises she’s already wearing and it’s only been seconds since the attack.
“I’m coming back,” I choke out over the anger brewing inside me.
Tornados are calm compared to what I feel.
When I scan the area, the son-of-a-bitch hasn’t gone far. A black Mercedes SUV is merging into traffic. Two males inside, partially hidden by tinted windows.
They’re not in a hurry. Like they’ve got every right to be here.
I stand long enough for them to see me and I don’t hide the gun I’m holding.
They’ll know I memorized their tags. And if they’ve got any tactical awareness at all, they’re already aware that I’m locked on and this won’t go unpunished.
“That’s right, take a good long look, assholes. I see you.”
When they’re out of sight, I head back inside. “They’re gone,” I tell her as I flip the dead bolts on the door.
She scrambles off the floor, whiskey-brown hair half out of her ponytail, eyes big as can be in her pale face.
I’m struck immobile for a beat, watching her eyes start to shine with tears. Standing in a bakery kitchen that shows the signs of struggle.
In the next second, I’m moving toward her automatically. “You’re safe.”
She leans into me, and the urge to shelter her is visceral. I draw her against my chest, cradling her head into the crook of my shoulder. “They know I’m here and I made it clear they weren’t getting back in.”
