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“Yes.”
Ike’s fists drilled into Donavon. The man squealed in pain, but it only took a few punches for Ike to knock him unconscious.
Myra turned to see Harrison trying to sneak out the door. She sprinted after him and grabbed his broken arm, wrenching it behind his back again.
Ike jumped up and raced to her.
“I’ve got him,” she said through clenched teeth.
“You sure?”
“I can do something,” she shot back, exasperated.
Ike didn’t answer her. He yanked his phone out and called security and then their FBI contact. He watched her steadily while she held onto the whimpering Harrison, looking like he wanted to take the man from her.
She was impressed by his quick reactions and his fighting skills—he was as good as she’d believed he was—but she was supremely annoyed that instead of working as a team, he’d jumped in and rescued her at every turn.
He hadn’t trusted her when it counted. She could understand his instincts were to protect her and he was more than capable of battling two men at once, but she’d been right there to fight with him. He’d yelled no at her, taken the shot, leapt in front of her, and even after it was over, he hadn’t wanted her to hold Harrison.
She knew this could be just about her pride, but she’d worked too hard to be the Warrior Woman. If the man she was falling in love with couldn’t respect and trust her in the role she and her dad had scrapped and carved out … Could she be with him?
All her dreams of fighting side by side with Ike had just gone down the toilet.
Chapter
Nineteen
Ike knew Myra was upset with him. He’d reacted instinctively to keep her safe, just like he knew he would. How to explain that didn’t mean he didn’t trust her or thought her skills weren’t up to par?
That was exactly how she would read it. How everybody he fought with usually reacted. With Myra, it wasn’t about trusting her skills; it was about keeping her safe. He loved her. Losing her like he’d lost his mom and Sadie … he couldn’t.
They made it through the police questioning and statements. Paramedics had bandaged Beau’s cheek, but it needed stitching. It was one in the morning when they finally got Beau to the hospital to get his cheek stitched up.
As they waited outside Beau’s private room, Myra paced and Ike leaned against the wall, watching her. It was quiet in the hallway.
Finally, he knew he had to say something.
“I’m sorry I jumped in front of you,” he said.
She whirled on him. “Which time?”
“All of them?” He grimaced. It shouldn’t have come out as a question.
She stormed into his space. Ike straightened. She was mad. He didn’t blame her.
“You didn’t trust me or my skills,” she hurled at him. “Beau could’ve died when you rescued me from Harrison instead of neutralizing Donavon immediately.”
He nodded. She was right. Beau’s cut to his cheek could’ve been his throat.
“I could’ve easily taken Harrison,” she continued. “I could’ve easily taken Donavon. I had the opening to take the shot. Or after you’d shot him, I was already in motion and you leapt in front of me.”
“I know.”
“Then why did you keep rushing in and being the hero? At the very least you should’ve protected Beau and let me deal with Harrison.”
There was no argument for that. She was right.
“I haven’t done assignments with a partner since the Rangers,” he said.
