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“Oh God. No! I’ll give you money…”
“No more warnings. Shut up, bitch, and get in the car,” growled the voice from the auto’s interior.
No one was taking Brenna anywhere.
Usually one to keep the peace, Cam welcomed the sudden feeling of wanting to cram their balls down their throats as he read them their rights.
The car door opened, and a figure emerged, his gun still trained on her. He was a short man, bald and unfamiliar. But with the look of leather and the 70s porn-star moustache, he had to be one of Julio Marco’s lackeys.
Brenna backed away with her hands up, and the goon with the dirty wife-beater shirt grabbed her shoulders roughly. Beside Cam, Thorn tensed.
“Don’t fire,” he hissed at the bounty hunter.
“Bullshit! I won’t let them take—”
“I’ll do it. Sneak around to the side yard and back me up.”
After hesitating, Thorn took off to get in place. Within moments, the bounty hunter crouched behind a huge bird of paradise plant some ten yards away and nodded.
Taking a deep breath, Cam focused on the criminals, and did his best to block Brenna’s terrified cries of “no, please” out of his head as she dug in her heels while they dragged her closer to the open car door. If he squeezed this shot off right, he’d have time to comfort her later.
Briefly, he thought of having Thorn call for backup. No time, first of all. Second, admitting that he’d spent the night with someone who was potentially aiding and abetting an alleged felon wasn’t exactly high on the ethical charts. Besides, they had surprise on their side.
“Freeze. Police!” he shouted.
As he hoped, the two criminals jolted, momentarily taking their eyes off Brenna as they scanned the area, searching for the source of the warning. Brenna took advantage of their distraction and jabbed her elbow into the concave abdomen of the meth head, who grunted and clutched his belly, and released her.
She darted back toward the house.
Not about to let her go, Baldy raised his gun and pointed it at her back.
Cam fired off a warning shot, barely missing the guy with the gun—on purpose. The bullet pinged off his souped-up red pimpmobile. He would have simply shot the asshole, but he wasn’t worth the paperwork—at least so far. If he threatened Brenna again, Cam vowed he’d use the greasy bastard’s forehead for target practice.
Out of nowhere, Thorn appeared and snagged Brenna around the waist, soothing her with a whisper as he dragged her safely into hiding.
Breathing easier now, Cameron met the threat of the two thugs head on.
“Backup is on the way. Stay where you are,” he reached for his cuffs and lied through his teeth, knowing there was no way in hell they’d comply.
Julio Marco was aggressive and liked to win. But if getting caught was likely, that was to be avoided at all costs. And if his hired guns were taken into police custody, Marco would deny all knowledge of them. Their lives would be worth next to nothing after that.
Judging by the way they hauled ass into the car, slammed doors and squealed tires away from Curtis’ cottage, they knew it too.
But he didn’t have time for sighs of relief.
Jogging across the cactus and gravel yard, he pushed past the metal gate and found Thorn and Brenna safe and in one piece—almost literally.
With his back to the concrete fence that separated the cottage’s pool area from scrub and desert, Thorn had wrapped muscled arms around Brenna’s huddled form. She burrowed into the safety of his bare chest. With one hand on his gun and the other in her hair, he whispered and soothed her, pressing hot, hard kisses to her lips.
If the situation hadn’t been so damn dire, he would have smiled.
As soon as Thorn saw Cam, he tensed. “They gone?”
“Yes.”
Thorn tucked his gun into the waistband at the small of his back then tightened his arms around Brenna, who was stiff and trembling against him. “It’s okay, baby. You’re safe.”
“For how long?”
Good question. The fact that Julio Marco’s goons were here and threatening Brenna with violence told him two things—one, Marco didn’t have the faintest clue where Curtis had slipped away to, and two, the human smuggler knew that Brenna was important enough to Curtis to want to abduct her and use her as leverage.
The time for Mr. Nice Guy had come to an end.
“Pack a bag,” Cameron barked. “Quick. We need to be out of here in five minutes.”
“What… Why?”
“They’ll be back with reinforcements and enough fire power to blow up the side of this mountain.”
“Oh.” She bit her lip. “Can’t we call the police?”
“Sure, but they’ll take you in to question you about Curtis’ disappearance. And you’re insane if you think Julio Marco can’t get to you there. We’d be barred from protecting you. I’m not comfortable with that.”
“I like my odds better with you. Where are we going?”
Cameron paused. “My place. You’re going to tell us about your relationship with Curtis and what you know of his whereabouts.”
He turned and made his way to the back door, jimmying the lock with a credit card and a few seconds’ patience.
“How did you do that?” Thorn demanded.
“I wasn’t always a cop,” he said over his shoulder with a smile.
* * * * *
In a handful of minutes, Brenna had dressed and tossed her belongings back into her suitcase. That wasn’t hard, considering the fact she’d barely unpacked when she arrived in Arizona. She heard clattering in the kitchen and assumed Cameron was doing his best to clean up after breakfast. Thorn was watching her with an unblinking stare, his laser gaze following her around the room as she grabbed the last of her belongings.
The intensity of that gaze dredged up memories that weren’t conducive to efficient packing. She was basically fleeing for her life. Why was her gaze clinging to Thorn? Why the hell was she wet?
“Stop staring,” she snapped. “You’re making me nervous.”
He rolled his bare shoulders then bent to pick up the vest he’d discarded last night, followed by his boots. “It’s either stare at you or fuck you. We don’t have time for the latter.”
True. And she should be relieved. He and Cam had been overwhelming last night, and she was still shocked by what she’d done, and the fact that, for them, she had had an almighty orgasm so powerful, it had nearly blown her head off. But she wasn’t relieved that the situation now demanded prudence. She was annoyed. And scared.
Exiting the bathroom with the last of her toiletries, she stuffed them into a bag. As soon as she emerged, Thorn propelled her back, holding out a wide palm to slam the door behind her before he shoved her against it. Brenna dropped her bag with a gasp as he fitted his body against hers, his mouth hovering right over her own. She couldn’t mistake the erection digging into the apex of her thighs.
“But we’re going to make time later. A whole lot of time.”
His voice was a rumble that vibrated through her, exciting every nerve ending inside her that had lain dormant for…well, her whole life.
She’d always felt the sting of abandonment just beneath her skin. Like people could see her version of the scarlet letter, a big, black A on her forehead that shouted the fact she’d never been wanted, that everyone would always leave her. And should, as if she somehow deserved it.
It didn’t feel like Thorn was going anywhere anytime soon.
