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“I broke his jaw because the prick was running at me with a knife.” Each word sawed from between his gritted teeth. “But, dammit, yes. I punched hard because no man should ever hit a woman. No one should ever hurt you. I wanted him to see what it was like to be on the receiving end of a punch. I hit him. Knocked him out. Zip-tied him. I did not kill him.” There. Done.
Her hands rose to cup his jaw. “I know you didn’t kill either of them. Despite what Joyce suggests, I truly would have noticed a knife sticking out of the redhead’s chest. Sort of hard to miss something like that, even when I was shaking apart with fear.” A careful exhale. “Their boss killed them. He would probably have killed me, but you saved me. Thank you, Midas.” Her lips pressed to his.
He was violent. Savage. Barely in control.
And she kissed him with gentle tenderness.
The bathroom door flew open. “Everything okay in—” Joyce’s words stopped.
Midas finished the kiss. Lifted his head and saw the detective’s shocked expression in the mirror that ran above the sinks. “Great news,” he replied without any hesitation. “Alina is feeling better.”
And your divide-and-conquer BS did not work.
***
“You need to go home, Alina,” Bradford urged her as their little group left through the back door. There had been more questions from the cops. Some, they had answered. Others, they hadn’t. Bradford had stepped in when he felt like the questions were out of line.
Alina wasn’t even sure where the line was. “I need to practice.” The words were automatic. She wanted to go to the rink. To lose herself on the ice.
“Not happening,” Midas retorted as his gaze swept the area. The limo waited about ten feet away. “And she’s not going home, either, Bradford. Tell your boss I have her. We’ll be contacting him later.”
“What?” Shock rolled in Bradford’s voice. “Of course, she’s returning home. Alina’s safety is of the utmost importance!”
“Tell me something I don’t know.” Midas seemed to be searching for someone. Only no one else was in that little alley.
“Then you know she needs to return to her father’s property. You are working for him.”
Midas grunted.
“You follow his orders,” Bradford fumed. “So put her in the damn car!”
Right then, a man in khakis and a blue blazer rushed around the building. He barreled straight toward Alina, and as he did, he yanked something out of his pocket.
Fear rushed through her, but Midas was there. And by there—he jumped into the man’s path. The guy had been so focused on Alina that he hadn’t even noticed Midas. Something that should have been impossible because Midas was a very hard man to miss. The guy in the khakis barreled into Midas then stumbled back as if he’d hit a brick wall. He pretty much had, after all.
The item he’d been clutching—a phone, she could see that now—went flying.
When it landed, Midas stepped on top of it. The crack seemed extra loud.
“What are you doing?” the man howled. “That’s my phone!”
“Whoops.” Midas shrugged. She was also sure that he stepped down harder on the device.
The guy gaped, then strained to peer around Midas. “Alina! Alina Bellamy, is it true that you were kidnapped last night? Were you taken from your home? Were your abductors killed during the course of your rescue?”
Midas sighed. “Where there is one, there will be more.”
Was that man hurling the questions a reporter? Shouldn’t he have a crew with him?
As if on cue, two more people hurried around the building. A woman. A man. The man carried an expensive-looking camera.
“Limo,” Bradford ordered, voice curt. “Now.”
Alina took a step toward the limo, but the sudden roar of a motorcycle had her jerking and whipping around. A black beast of a motorcycle roared down the alley. The rider wore a black leather coat and a black helmet. The visor covered his face.
Everyone scrambled out of his path. Everyone but Midas.
The driver braked near him. Kicked down the stand. Rose. He pulled off the helmet.
