Then he hit the back door.
It swung open hard on its hinges. The wood caught the man behind it full in the shoulder, knocking him sideways and off balance before he could react.
Wes was through the doorway in the same motion, closing the distance before the man could recover.
He’d only use his gun as a last resort. Instead, he drove the man back against the wall.
Window Man absorbed the impact and came back fast. One of his hands went for Wes’s collar and the other drove toward his midsection.
The gun flew out of Wes’s hand and skittered behind him on the floor.
He glanced at it. It was too far away to grab now.
Behind him, he heard Remington running.
The Doberman hit the man holding Rowen like a controlled explosion, a hundred pounds of muscle and training. He landed with a force that threw the man off Rowan.
The man recovered fast. He got a hand up before Remington could pin him and shoved the dog sideways.
Remington came back snarling.
Wes’s opponent drove an elbow back. It hit his jaw. White light scattered across his vision for a disorienting second.
His grip loosened for just a moment.
Rowan was somewhere behind him.
He couldn’t afford to look.
Instead, Wes slammed Window Man back against the wall a second time, harder.
The man’s head connected with the cabinet above the counter with a sound that should have ended it.
It didn’t.
He came off the wall swinging.
Wes had no choice but to keep fighting.
The man’s grip on Rowan’s jaw fractured for one half second as his attention moved to the sudden commotion at the back door.
That was enough.
Rowan wrenched her face sideways and spat, felt the pills leave her mouth, and didn’t wait to see where they landed.
Her gaze shot to the door.
Wes!
The relief hit her so hard and so fast that for a moment she couldn’t move at all. He was here. She didn’t know how—didn’t know what had brought him through that door at exactly this second.
But she couldn’t think about any of that right now because Remington was already airborne. The man who’d had his hand on her jaw was no longer thinking about her at all.
She pushed off the counter and stumbled toward the far wall, her knee screaming, her lungs pulling in air like they’d forgotten how.
For two seconds she just watched.
Wes had the second man against the wall near the door, controlled and relentless. Remington had driven the first man to the floor. Lauren had flattened herself against the refrigerator, both hands over her mouth.
