AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“This is what she did before specializing as a profiler. And because at her core, she’s FBI. She’ll do what she needs to find this guy. And a heads-up, we got your statement, but you were fighting him. She’s going to press you again for anything you might’ve left out.”
“I didn’t leave shit out. He knows how to take a hit.”
“You didn’t mention that earlier.”
“Just thought of it.”
“See? That’s why she’s going to press you again. Tell me what you mean when you say he knows how to take a hit.”
“I came at him hard, trapping his arms so he couldn’t hit me with anything. After the initial contact, he loosened his body. He averted his head so I couldn’t see his eyes, but it was more. He didn’t want me reading him while we were fighting.”
Dickhead nodded. “For a guy to do that, that kind of thinking—”
“He’s a fighter or a quarterback.”
He grunted. “Doubt he’s a quarterback.”
“Me too. So he has fighting experience, real fighting.”
“A guy learns how to maneuver like that if he’s gotten hit a hundred or more times. Mind and body are both conditioned by then.”
“Shit.” I scrubbed my hand over my face.
“Yeah.” He sighed and turned away.
After a moment, he indicated that I should follow him. “Come on. Show us this fancy security system you got. Wow us so we don’t need to be inside the house.”
He’d thrown that my way as a challenge, but impressed or not, there was no way they’d be inside the house.
My system was flawless.
38
BILLIE
After Travis and Agent Cardiman left, Brett and I made a round of calls. The news would break in the morning, and we didn’t want everyone to hear about it that way.
It was decided that I’d stay at Brett’s while he went to work. His place was almost a fortress. Vicky, Howard, and Lo would take turns coming to me, and Roger and the girls would stay away until everything was sorted.
Lo had the first shift, bringing me everything I’d left at my place. My laptop. My printer. She also packed a large bag of my clothes in case this lasted a long while.
The next morning our phones started buzzing at four AM, and they never stopped. Brett got a call from the Kings, so he went in early, but only after making sure there were two squad cars outside.
Lo returned, and we sat in Brett’s giant living room, watching TV. I’d propped myself in the corner of his couch with pillows, my laptop, and a blanket over my legs. Every channel was covering the attempted kidnapping. Lo was riveted, not by the terror of me almost getting taken, but like most everyone else in the world, she was riveted by the slam Brett Broudou had given the guy to thwart the attack. I had to admit, I was too. Though I winced every time I saw my body lose consciousness.
The stalker had been about to lift me up, the back door of his truck open. It was idling there, ready for him. Then, mid-bend, Brett tore in from his side of the truck, a blur because he was moving so fast, and wham! The news slowed the video down, focused on how Brett was coming in, his head low, his eyes right on my attacker. His arms opened, and slam! He hit the guy square in the side, trapping his arms like he’d explained last night. My attacker was forced to let me go. Brett’s eyes followed me as I slumped to the ground, but he somehow managed to get enough traction to lift my attacker in the air before slamming him down.
That slam was everything. It was violent. It was savage.
It took my breath away, and something deep in me, dark in me, stirred because that’d been by my man.
Mine.
I wanted to watch it on repeat.
Brett had almost broken the guy’s head open on the asphalt. I wished he had, but the attacker tucked his head down so his shoulder took most of the brunt.
In the video, Brett wavered, seeming torn between going after the guy and checking on me. When I tried to sit up, he went to me, and in that opening, my attacker got away, though he was clearly hurting. He was gone in a second.
