Page 93 of My Favorite Kidnapper

He glared at me, his rage and hatred on full display. He bared his teeth, the blood seeping from his nose. “You thief,” he bellowed, pulling back his arm.

It happened so quickly. I crouched into a fighting stance, knowing this was going to get ugly and destructive fast. He rushed forward, his fist drawn. There was another flurry, and Brianna stepped between us.

“Stop!”

“No!” I yelled, diving to move her. But it was too late. His fist swung out, glancing off my arm as I tried to pivot her, and caught her on the side of her face. The momentum tore her from my arms, and she staggered, collapsing to the floor. With a roar, I descended on him, red coloring my world as I pounded him over and over, my fists turning his skin bloody and bruised.

It was a stern voice that stopped me cold.

“Dante.” Richard’s tenor was loud. “Brianna is hurt. She needs you.”

I stopped midswing, my brain kicking in. Richard put his hand on my shoulder. “I will make sure he is taken care of. Go to her.”

I wiped my hands, looking down at the sniveling man on the floor. He was curled into a ball and had wet himself. I shook my head. “You come near her again, I will kill you.”

Then I turned to my Brianna on the floor, cursing myself. She should have come first, but my temper had taken over.

I crouched next to her, lifting her head. Her right eye was swollen, the skin on her cheek already badly bruised and painful-looking. I cradled her face, contrite and upset. “I’m sorry, Little Bee.”

She blinked, trying to smile, the action looking more like a grimace. “You should see the other guy.”

I took off my jacket and slipped it around her, gathering her into my arms.

Richard looked up. “My car is waiting. Take her to the hospital.”

I walked through the gaping crowd, not speaking. People parted, someone opening the door, another coming to the car and making sure we got in.

“A lot of us have wanted to do that for a long time,” he muttered. I wasn’t on a first-name basis with him, but I nodded in acknowledgment.

I looked down at Brianna, horrified to see her tears. “Go fast,” I instructed the driver.

She was my focus now.

* * *

Richard found me pacing the waiting room. My hands were still bloody, and my hair was a mess from me tugging on it.

“How is she?”

She had clung to me, silent tears coursing down her face. Panicked when they said I had to leave the room. Her hands gripped my shirt so hard I thought she was going to tear the seams.

“No,” I said. “I’m staying where she can see me.”

She never took her eyes off me.

Seeing her that way broke something in me I couldn’t explain.

“In pain, but the orbital bone isn’t broken, thank God. Her shoulder took the brunt of the fall, but it prevented a concussion. Her face is a mess, and she is going to have trouble seeing for a few days. They are cleaning her up and doing a CT to be sure.”

He handed me a towel. “Clean yourself up.”

I slipped to the restroom and washed my hands. I hadn’t wanted to be too far away from her. I dried my hands and disposed of the towel. He was standing in the same spot when I returned, looking angry.

“I’m sorry—”

He cut me off. “Don’t say that. You’re not sorry at all, except that Brianna was injured.” He huffed out a laugh. “He deserved that beating and more.”

I nodded, and he stared straight ahead. “Robin Hood?” he asked so quietly his lips barely moved.