He needed to act.
Taking a deep breath, he slid one of the throwing knives into each hand, and stood. “That’s far enough,” he barked, as three things happened at once.
One: the boss, clearly surprised, whirled about and fumbled the bag he held. It hit the ground with a loud crunch, which caused the man to curse and drop to his knees to scramble for the remains of his worthless forgeries.
Two: the skinny man pulled a pistol from his waist and rudely pointed it at Kenneth.
Three: most alarmingly, Barbara popped up from behind the desk with a determined expression, causing Kenneth’s blood to run cold.
“Get down!” he bellowed, kicking the chaise so it flipped over and ducking behind it just as the gun blasted, blowing apart a piece of the library shelving—and books—behind him. Barbara screamed, but he couldn’t tell if it was in fear or outrage over such desecration.
Knowing the bastard had another pistol but needed a moment to pull it, Kenneth popped back up to see the big manlooming toward Barbara. Without hesitation, even knowing it opened him to another attack from the slender man, Kenneth hurled one of the knives at the larger man threatening his woman.
He had just enough time to see it lodge into the man’s shoulder as Barbara scooped up the heavy paperweight from her desk, before Kenneth threw himself behind the chaise again—and not a moment too soon, because the other burglar’s second pistol boomed, blowing through the seat where his heart had just been.
Pink silk and horsehair went everywhere, and Barbara screamed again.
Knowing the slender man was out of pistols—at least, praying he was—Kenneth rolled around the edge of the chaise, coming up to his knees to see the big man stumbling around, clutching the crimson blood pumping from the wound in his shoulder.
Barbara, meanwhile, was still screaming—ah good, it was anger, not fear—while hurling things at the smaller housebreaker. The man cursed and used his forearms to block each of the objects—priceless antiquities and writing supplies both as he stumbled toward the desk.
Kenneth wouldn’t let him reach her.
“Get the fook down!” he bellowed at her, hurling his second knife at the skinny little bastard, who unfortunately had the wherewithal to duck. “Barbara!”
“You donotget to tell me what to do!” she screamed right back, throwing a paperweight the burglar wasn’t able to dodge. “Not after what you did!”
“I’msorry!” Balanced on his knees, desperate to protect her, Kenneth realized his motions weren’t as smooth as they should be as he pulled his remaining throwing knife out with his righthand as his left reached for the large blade hidden in his boot. “Christ, woman, I never meant to hurt ye?—”
“Never meant to hurt me?” Barbara shrieked, scooping up what appeared to be a Greek ornament. “I was naught but a wager to you!”
The slender criminal flinched away from the thrown missile, overbalancing toward Kenneth, who took swift advantage.
“The hell ye are! I love ye!” he roared as he threw himself at the man trying to reach Barbara.
The knife in his hand sunk into the housebreaker’s thigh and the man screamed before Kenneth bowled him over. Behind him, he dimly heard the big man hit the ground, still groaning as Kenneth lifted himself over the smaller criminal.
He hit the bastard in the throat, as previously instructed. “I love ye, Barbara!” He pulled the mask off the criminal and hit him again. “I’m no’ going to let ye be hurt!”
It was only when he pulled his fist back to strike again that he realized the burglar wasn’t moving, and checked the furious impulse.
Rage flowed through his veins—rage and violence and brutal primitiveneedto protect his woman. How fookingdarethese arseholes come into her home and put her in danger? Kenneth’s vision was red around the edges as he lifted himself, breathing heavily, to survey the room.
The bastard he held was unconscious, and another man was curled around his wound, still moaning. Kenneth’s knife hadn’t hit anything vital so the man would live, as long as he didn’t jostle the blade.
Speaking of which, he pushed himself off the unconscious man leaving his longer blade in the man’s leg, preparing to face Barbara’s ire…but then he heard her whimper.
In all his days, Kenneth hadneverheard anything quite as terrifying as Barbara Fokette’s helpless little whimper. He knew—he knew—before he even turned around, that she was scared. And a part of him, the part of him which had allowed himself to sit separate from the violence which needed to be done…turned to ice.
Tucking his throwing knife against his wrist so it wasn’t visible, he slowly turned, only to blanche when he saw his worst fears confirmed.
The leader, the man the others had calledboss, stood behind Barbara, one beefy hand around her upper arm, and the other…
Oh Christ Almighty.Kenneth’s knees almost gave out.
The bastard’s other hand held a pistol, pointed at Barbara’s side.
She was staring at him, those blue eyes wide and fear-filled, and Kenneth felt a part of him die.
