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Bryson
I surge across the city, glancing at my phone on the mount, showing Harper’s location. Harper’sphone.
What if they ditched it, whoever they are—the creeps who’ve got their hands on my woman?
“Sir,” the911operator says, “you can’t handle this yourself. Wait for the authorities to arrive.”
“If I get there first, I’m going in. You can press any charges you want.”
The location is near the dockyard, a warehouse in a row on the end. As soon as I got Harper’s message, I didn’t think, second-guess, or spend a second wondering what was happening or why. I just put in the details and charged toward the car.
Adam was out, and I didn’t have time to call him and let him know what was going on.
“The authorities are on their way. They should be there in fifteen minutes.”
“Fifteen?” I roar. “I’ll be there in five.”
I’m breaking the speed limit, cutting red lights, cars honking at me, and pedestrians yelling. I don’t care about any of it. My purpose is clear—save my woman from whatever this is.
This past week has been hell, living without her, fighting the instinct to contact her every single second. I’ve been out every time she’s visited the house to see Adam, but when I return, I’m sure I can smell her scent, fueling my unkillable obsession.
“Sir…”
I end the call, focusing on the location. I need to think clearly.
I don’t care how many bastards there are. Even if they have weapons, who cares? All I care about is keeping my woman safe.
When the road turns into a long stretch, I floor the pedal, pushing the rental car to its limits.
There’s a gate blocking my access to the dockyard. I smash right through it, letting out a roar when the impact judders up my arms through the wheel, slamming into my body. Finally, I screech to a halt at her location.
There are four cars parked outside some kind of outhouse off to the side of the warehouse. The warehouse is dark, but yellow lights blare from the one window of the outhouse and from under the door.
I leap from the car, thinking of my woman alone with…
With whom?
With dead men, if they’ve hurt her.
I spring right for the door. Maybe it’s not the smartest move. I should be quiet and work out what’s going on first, but every second I delay is another second something terrible could be happening to my woman.
Raising my foot, I kick with all my power. The door crashes as it snaps open, the hinges breaking.
My body is flooded with protective fire. Time slows as I look around the small room and at my woman passed out on a grimy mattress. A man is leaning over her, his hands moving toward her body. She’s still wearing her tights. He’s about to remove them. The purpose is obvious.
Three more men have gathered around. Each of them is tall and swollen with steroids. I know the look from so many years of practicing as a doctor in family practice, dealing with all kinds of conditions.
The man closest to me turns. He’s wearing a leather vest over a green shirt. His hair is greasy and red and long, and when I punch him in the nose with my fist, bright red blood gushes down his lip.
He falls back, yelling, as two men leap at me. I don’t have time to take in their details, only the motion of their bodies. They come at me with the blind fury of startled animals, fists waving wildly.
One fist lands a blow across my mouth, making my jaw feel like it wobbles, but then I spin away and headbutt my attacker so hard he flies off his feet. I grab the arm of the other man as he strikes me, yanking him hard so he hurtles into the opposite wall, his head slapping off the wood. He collapses. Then the two men are on me—the redhead and the other. I kick one so hard in the leg I hear something snap, causing him to fall and scream, clawing at his shin.
I grab the other by the head, my big hands squeezing tight as I spin him around and force him down against my knee. The fourth man tries to run out a back door.
I catch a glimpse of my woman on the mattress, moaning softly, and that sends more rage surging through me, speeding across my system like a car across a racetrack.
Leaping across the room, I grab the back of his neck and drag him back, throwing him to the ground and leaping on top of him, hammering him in the face several times, then standing, looking at the four of them.
