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The air shifted, and he froze. The hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention.
He wasn’t alone.
He reached for his holster, and for the second time that night, came up empty.
Fuck.
Putting his back to the wall, he scanned the living room. It was so damn dark. He couldn’t see for shit. But his gut screamed that someone was in the room with him. And he trusted his gut.
Whoever it was, they were close. A split second later, he ducked. Something hard sailed over his head and struck the wall. The crash was deafening in the silent room, and drywall dust exploded into the air.
A shadowy figure, holding what looked to be a baseball bat, loomed over him and swung again. He twisted, but his shoulder burst into flames as the bat made contact. He went on autopilot, and a lifetime of martial arts and hand-to-hand training took over.
All the built-up anger and frustration he’d been carrying unleashed. With a growl, he lunged, tackling the perp. The bat clattered to the ground, and he pinned the asshole under him. Sitting atop the writhing intruder, he easily held the fucker down with one hand at their throat while he let his other fly. With a fleshy thwack, his fist made contact. The perp grunted.
Joe hesitated at the sound, pulse pounding in his ears. His gut screamed that something was off. Something beyond almost getting his head taken off with a baseball bat.
But fuck it, there was no time to deliberate. He squeezed his hand tighter around the perp’s throat and raised his fist again.
“No,” a ragged voice wheezed.
He froze mid-swing, and dread turned his blood to ice.
Fucking shit.
His shoulders sagged as the fight in him vanished.
Citrus with a touch of honey. That was the scent he’d been unable to place earlier, and his gut twisted.
What the fuck have I done?
A giant boulder formed in his throat, and he could barely find his voice. “Rox?”
* * *
The painful thud of the intruder’s fist on Roxie’s jaw stunned her. Little white stars filled her vision, and her face throbbed in rhythm with the frantic beating of her heart.Holy shit. This crazy guy was going to freaking kill her. Or worse.
She tried to buck him off, but he was too heavy. Her mind scrambled. She needed to find a weapon.
“No,” she moaned, scratching and clawing wildly at the hand around her throat. If she could just see where the damn bat had rolled to, maybe she could reach—
“Rox?”
In an instant, the heavy body holding her down was gone, replaced by gentle hands that helped her into a seated position. Her head swam with the movement.
“Holy fuck, Roxanne. Are you okay?”
She stilled. She knew that voice. But no—that couldn’t be right. What the hell was going on? “Joe?”
“Hold on, Rox. Fuck! Let me find a light.”
Joe. The intruder wasJoe.
She exhaled, feeling around with her hands until she bumped into the back of the couch. Grateful, she leaned against it. Her dizziness settled, but she continued to tremble in the aftermath of adrenaline.
She’d been asleep when a loud boom had rattled the house. A quick glance at her bedside clock had told her the power was out. She’d left her phone charging on the dresser across the room when she’d gone to bed, so she’d gotten up to set her cell’s alarm clock. Then she’d heard someone shuffling about downstairs.
Before giving it a second thought, she’d grabbed the baseball bat she kept tucked next to her bed and went to investigate. Like Nancy freaking Drew.
