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  “I’ll be okay,” I said, forcing my voice to be strong. That truck was our way out of this hell. I wasn’t about to make things harder than they were.

  He nodded briskly and strode the short distance to the truck and peered into the passenger-side window. When he tried the handle, it opened and he snorted.

  “Idiot,” I heard him mouth under his breath.

  He stepped up to the inside of the truck, between the seat and the door. Instead of depositing me on the seat, he tightened his hold and looked down.

  “The bad shit’s over. I won’t let him touch you again.”

  I nodded. His words loosened something inside me and made it easier to breathe. Gently, he placed me on the seat and then pulled back slightly. From this close, I could see the tenderness in his eyes, and then he pressed a kiss to my forehead.

  When he climbed into the driver’s seat, I glanced at the ignition. “There’s no keys,” I noted, nerves fluttering around in my chest.

  “I don’t need keys,” he replied confidently.

  I couldn’t see what he was doing, but it sounded like he ripped out a part of the dash and then he shoved his hand up inside and pulled out a handful of wires.

  “They teach you how to hotwire a car in the Marine Corps?” I asked incredulously.

  He grinned. “Nope. I was a teenager once.”

  I couldn’t help it. I smiled.

  Then I glanced out the window. A familiar figure was rushing through the rain at us.

  “Nathan,” I cried, pointing in the direction of Lex.

  The truck roared to life and he threw it in drive. The blast of a gun and the shattering of glass had me screaming.

  “Get down,” Nathan barked as he shoved at my head until I slid onto the floorboard.

  I heard the truck accelerate and it fishtailed over the slick ground, but he didn’t slow down. He ripped and roared down the side of the mountain until the gunshots couldn’t even be heard in the distance.

  18

  Nathan

  He shot out the back window. Holy shit, when that glass shattered and shards of it started raining from behind, I almost busted a vein. Honor was sitting right there. Right. Fucking. There.

  If she’d have been shot or stabbed, I would have stopped the truck right then and killed him.

  Bullets wouldn’t have stopped me.

  But the bullet didn’t hit her, and as I tore down the mountain, I glanced toward the floorboard, expecting to see her spurting out red rain.

  I never wanted to see that sight again.

  But she wasn’t bleeding. She didn’t look hurt at all (well, no more than before).

  “He’s crazy!” she yelled over the rumble of the truck’s engine as she gripped the edge of the seat while I flew around a curve. We came a little too close to going over the edge and plummeting down into the trees, so I laid off the gas.

  Honor started to push herself up but then swore. I cut my eyes over to see a fresh trail of red sliding from the palm of her hand and winding a path down the inside of her wrist.

  My stomach turned. The sight of blood didn’t bother me, but the sight of it pouring from Honor’s body did.

  “Stay down,” I said, averting my gaze. “There’s too much glass up here.”

  But just because I wasn’t looking didn’t mean she stopped bleeding. With one hand, I reached around my neck and yanked the long-sleeve waffle-knit tee I was wearing over my head. I tossed it at her. “Here, wrap that around your hand.”

  “I don’t want to ruin your shirt.”

  “You prefer blood loss?”

  “I owe you a shirt with your pie,” she said, and I smiled.

  A few minutes later, I glanced back down at her hand, which was now completely covered with my shirt. She looked small, hunched down there on the floor. And pale. Her skin stood out against the darkness.

  The reaction she had when she saw this truck wasn’t good. I’d seen enough during my time in the Corps to know that something bad happened to her in this truck, something that her brain probably suppressed until she was brought face to face with it.

  I felt like the world’s biggest ass by forcing her into this vehicle. I was afraid to even know what the hell caused her to have such a violent reaction back there. But I didn’t have a choice. This truck was our best option at getting away. It was beyond clear to me that Honor needed away from here as soon as possible.

  Yeah, I wanted to stay and take him down.

  Yeah, beating him in the head might feel good.

  But the price of that would cost… maybe not cost someone like me anything, but it would cost Honor a lot. She’d already been through enough.

  It was strange, the streak of protectiveness I felt when I looked at her. I’d never felt that way about anyone but my family and some of the men I worked with. But this was different… I’d only just met her. Why did I feel this innate drive to keep her safe?

  It was almost as if something inside me claimed her.

  The main road came into sight and my tense muscles relaxed a little.

  “Where are we going?” Honor asked.

  “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

  She groaned. “I want to go home.”

  “You need to be looked at. They’ll give you something for those ribs.”

  “What about the police?”

  “They can meet us at the hospital.”

  Honor was silent for a minute, and I knew her brain was working. I could almost hear her worry.

  “You know his name? Where he lives?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “You’ll tell the police?”

  I absolutely hated the tremor of fear in her voice. I knew she was worried he would come after her again. Hell, I was worried about that too.

  “I’m gonna tell them, babe,” I said, taking my eyes off the road and looking directly at her. “I’m going to tell them everything, and they’re going to lock him up where he belongs.”

  She nodded and then rested her cheek against the thick shirt wrapped around her hand. The ride to the hospital was quiet. The closer we got, the more traffic surrounded us and the more relaxed I felt. I wondered what Lex was doing, how pissed he was that we left him stranded in the woods.

  I pulled into the hospital. The whole place was lit up with bright lights. Ambulances lined the sidewalk beneath the awning for the ER entrance. They must’ve still been dealing with the car pileup from earlier tonight.

  There were also some police cars with flashing lights parked at the curb. Good. That would make for easy contact.

  Because it was so crowded near the entrance, I parked in the lot. Of course there was nothing available close. Every vacant space was in the nosebleed section, so I took the first spot I came to and then reached down low and disconnected the wires, shutting off the truck.

  Honor still rested her cheek on her hands, her face turned away. I couldn’t tell if she was asleep or not, but she didn’t move even after I pushed open my door and got out. I went around to the passenger side and opened the door. I reached in and slid my arm around her waist, and this panicked sound ripped from her throat and her body went rigid.

  Her head nearly smacked the glove compartment, but I blocked it with my hand.

  “Easy,” I said gently. “It’s Nathan. We’re at the hospital. Time to go inside.”

  Her body relaxed, but she made no move to get out. “I’m going to pick you up,” I informed her. She didn’t try to blacken my eye, so I took that as consent and lifted her out and then kicked the door closed.

  Her cheek fell against my chest and her lips parted on a deep exhale. “I can walk,” she protested.

  I chuckled. She’d probably fall over the minute I put her down. “No,” I said, leaving no room for argument. I wasn’t about to admit how cute I thought she was. The minute she knew that, it would all be over. She’d have me wrapped around her little finger.

  Ain’t. Gonna. Happen.

  I was going to place her in the docto
rs’ care and then go talk to the police. Once that was done, so was my job. I could go home.

  Go home to what? a voice in my head argued. Cold fried chicken? Your weight set in the basement? Your memories?

  I ignored those thoughts as I walked past a police officer reclining against the side of his cruiser, holding a coffee cup in his hand. “I have a crime to report,” I told him and kept walking.

  He could follow me. It irritated me the way he was just standing there and Honor was out there dumped in a hole for fifteen hours. No, it wasn’t that cop’s fault, but… but I was irritated anyway.

  Inside the ER I found what I expected. A lot of organized chaos. People filled the chairs with various injuries, all waiting to be seen. I clenched my jaw and went to the check-in desk.

  “This woman needs to be seen. She was kidnapped, dumped in a hole, exposed to the elements, and has several broken ribs and various other injuries.”

  That got the nurse’s attention. She stared at me and my bedraggled appearance with shock. “Who are you?”

  Honor lifted her head off my chest and turned toward the woman, who gasped at the sight of her bruised and swollen face. “He’s the guy who pulled me out of the hole. He’s a Marine.”

  “Is she bleeding anywhere?” the nurse asked hopefully.

  My back teeth came together.

  “Yes,” I ground out. Why did it matter?

  Honor held up her hand wrapped in my shirt.

  “When people come in bleeding, they get higher priority.”

  Oh. Well. That was good. “How long do we have to wait until she gets seen? She’s been through a lot. She needs fluid and a bed.”

  She pushed a clipboard at me. “Sign in.”

  I signed in. Under my name. For some reason, having a record of her being here for anyone to see didn’t sit well with me.

  The nurse glanced up at me and then at Honor bundled up in my arms. Her eyes softened. “I’ll see what I can do,” she said low and then disappeared.

  There wasn’t an empty chair in this place. Not one.

  I took up position against the wall, planted my feet, and tucked her a little closer to me. Honor seemed to be floating around somewhere between consciousness and sleep. It made me worry she had a concussion. She did have that bump on the back of her head.

  Fifteen minutes later, the nurse from behind the desk motioned to me. I pushed away from the wall and followed her back along a quiet hallway and into a small area with a bed and a curtain all the way around it. “Someone will be in as soon as they can.”

  “Thank you,” I told her, and I meant it.

  She smiled and disappeared behind the curtain. Even though my arms were shaking with the effort of holding her for so long, I was hard pressed to put her down. I stood over the white bed for long minutes, debating, until I gently laid her out on the covers.

  Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled. “Thanks.”

  “You look like shit,” I told her tenderly and brushed a strand of damp hair off her face.

  Her eyes widened and focused on my face. I opened my mouth to tell her I was teasing when she said, “There’s lights in here.”

  Yeah. She hit her head too hard. “Yeah,” I drawled slowly.

  “I can see you.” She said it like she was in awe.

  “Well, I ain’t much to look at.” I started to pull away, but she grabbed my arm and yanked me back down so I was leaning over her body.

  “Stay.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” I wasn’t sure why I just said that, but it felt right.

  Her eyes—a crystal-blue color—roamed over my face, taking in every feature, every scar I knew was there. I was probably unshaven, dirty, and looked like crap.

  “You look…” she said, her voice trailing away as she looked me over again. I braced myself for some polite answer. But what she said surprised me. “Like a warrior.”

  I lifted my eyebrow. “A warrior, huh?”

  She nodded. “Strong. Capable. Rough.”

  I grunted, not sure what to make of her words.

  “I won’t tell your secret,” she said, a small smile playing on her lips.

  “And what secret is that?” I asked, amused.

  “That even though you look like a warrior and act like a warrior, underneath all that toughness is really a big mushy marshmallow.”

  I snorted. “There is nothing on me that resembles a marshmallow.” I flexed my bicep for her to feast her eyes on.

  She placed her palm over the center of my chest, right above my heart. All sense of joking totally left my body. I swallowed.

  “It’s why you need all those muscles, isn’t it? To protect what’s in here.”

  And those were the words that wrapped me right around her little finger.

  19

  Honor

  I never thought I might actually enjoy being a patient at a hospital. Of course, when your options are that or death… being in a hospital scores a ten out of ten.

  I didn’t even mind the ugly gown they put me in because it meant finally getting out of my muddy, wet clothes. The IV hurt like hell, but whatever meds they put in it sure were nice. Finally, I could draw a breath without feeling like someone was stabbing me with a butcher knife.

  The silence of the room was welcome. I liked silence. I knew some people who kept themselves so busy—their lives so full of all this… crap—that they never had a spare moment. I always felt bad for those people. It was almost as if they couldn’t stand the thought of being at rest—of being alone with themselves.

  Of course, even when I was alone and sitting in the silence of a room, I was never actually alone. The voices in my head—the characters that I put down on the page—they were always with me. It wasn’t something I went around telling other people because they would likely put me in a padded room, but other writers understood. It was probably the reason I liked the silence so much, because then there was no exterior noise competing with the constant activity that went on within the confines of my brain.

  Or maybe the silence was just welcome because it meant no one was throwing oranges at my head and trying to kill me.

  I laid there as long as I could, ignoring reality, until I knew I couldn’t ignore it any longer. I had to talk to the police. They needed to get that man off the streets. He could be doing to someone else what he’d just done to me.

  My eyes sprang open.

  I expected to see the curtain draped around the bed, but it wasn’t there. In fact, I was no longer in the tiny cubicle that Nathan carried me into.

  Nathan.

  I turned my head, looking for him, but he wasn’t there. I was in a room by myself, one of those generic hospital rooms that looked the same as every other in the building. White walls, cold tile floor, a rolling bedside table nearby, and a set of windows on the far end.

  The curtains were drawn so I couldn’t see outside, but judging from the amount of light in the room, I knew the sun was up. How long of a break from reality did I take?

  I stared at the IV taped to the back of my hand and scowled. Stupid thing. As I pondered ripping it out, the door to the room opened and Nathan stepped inside.

  He was still wearing the same white T-shirt and jeans he wore when he brought me in. They looked dry now but were wrinkled and covered in mud. It was the first time I really got a good look at him because it wasn’t dark, it wasn’t raining, and we weren’t running from a madman.

  Oh, and I guess the meds in the IV were making it easier to focus on him and not the pain.

  I decided not to rip it out after all.

  He was a big guy, over six feet tall, with a broad frame and very defined body. His biceps were large and hard. I probably wouldn’t even be able to wrap my hand around them and let my fingers touch. His chest was also solid looking and the white shirt stretched across his pecs and lay smoothly over his flat stomach. Even his neck was thick, and I knew this was a man who spent a lot of time at the gym.

  He saw I was awake and
he strode to the end of the bed and stood, looking down at me. Usually, I hated people looming over me. It was creepy.

  Nathan was not creepy.

  His nearly black hair was super short, a typical military cut, I suppose. It graduated from being practically bald on the sides and faded upward to short strands on the top that were sticking up like he’d been running his hands over the top of his head.

  He was also unshaven; dark, coarse hair covered the lower half of his face. I knew he most likely was always shaven, but his hair was so dark that the time he spent running around in the woods with me caused it to already shadow his jaw.

  He had a strong nose with a little bump in the center (had it been broken?), dark thick eyebrows, and blue eyes. His skin wasn’t as pale as mine, and he had a scar underneath his right eye. It ran jaggedly across his cheekbone. His lips were full, but there was also another scar right beneath his bottom lip, and it interrupted the curved line that his lips would have formed.

  A black tattoo peaked out from under the sleeve on his left arm, and I began to daydream about what the entire tattoo looked like and if he had any more in places that were covered by his clothes.

  “You’re still here,” I said, still not taking away my eyes.

  “I told you I wouldn’t leave.”

  He did say that, but I guess part of me thought he was only saying what he thought I wanted to hear. After all, I wasn’t his responsibility. I mean, he barely knew me.

  “How long was I out?”

  He walked around the side of bed. I couldn’t help but notice the way his hips swiveled as he moved. He dropped into a chair sitting right beside the bed and reclined against the back. “A couple hours.”

  “What time is it?”

  “About ten a.m.”

  I felt my eyes widen. I’d been out more than a couple hours. He’d been here this whole time? “Aren’t you exhausted?”

  “Nah. I caught a couple hours of sleep.”

  “Where?”

  “Right here.”

  He slept in the chair beside my bed? Damn if that didn’t make my heart turn over.