Page 21

M otherfucker. Ethan pounded the gas pedal to the floor.

He lurched backward as his truck shot forward.

The bastard was after Riley. His palms moistened and every hair on his body stood on end.

She couldn’t be far. He’d gotten in his car almost ten minutes ago, and their call had just cut out.

He scanned the darkness, but it was impossible to see far ahead with the constant slew of rain on the windshield.

His heart beat against his chest. A car in a ditch caught his eye, the passenger’s side crushed against a tree.

Riley.

She could be hurt… or worse. Sweat clung to his brow and collected at the back of his neck.

He pulled over to the opposite side of the road in front of her vehicle and slammed his truck into Park.

He charged into the ditch. The water that had collected over the past twenty-four hours soaked his ankles.

Rain pelted his face. His lungs expanded in his chest, his fists pumped as he ran.

Please god, please let her be okay.

Riley kicked the driver’s side door open and his blood thundered through his ears.

She stumbled out of the car, landing in the shallow water.

He skidded to a stop and water splashed his thighs as he knelt to pull her into his arms. He ran his hands over her body, searching for injuries.

It was hard to tell in the dark, but nothing major grabbed his attention.

Relief closed around him, smothering him. Her arms curled around his neck.

“Ethan.” Her voice broke on a sob. He lifted her in his arms and climbed up the side of the ditch.

She trembled against him, her teeth chattered in the torrents of rain.

He juggled her weight while he opened the passenger door of his truck.

He sat her in the seat, and his gaze raked over her face.

A trickle of blood started at her hairline, tiny scratches littered her face, and her lip was swollen.

Anger coursed through him. That sonofabitch was going to pay.

“My purse is still in the car,” she breathed, but her fingers didn’t loosen their hold on his shirt.

He eased her hands off him and onto her lap. “I’ll grab it.” He leaned over her to crank the heat.

Her hands grasped his shoulders.

“He’s going to come back.” Her chin quivered, her eyes glazed over with tears. An iron fist formed in his chest. He held her face between his palms, forcing her eyes to focus on him. A deep line creased her forehead, she inhaled a shaky breath.

“You’re safe now. I’ll be back in a second and then we’re getting out of here.”

She blinked the tears away, her throat moved on a swallow. “Okay.” She nodded.

The urge to kiss her swollen lip, and every other scrape on her porcelain face, turned his feet to lead.

He tore himself away. First, he had to get her safe and dry.

He buckled her seat belt, then closed the door and jogged to her car.

The black finish bore silver scratches from the truck that had ploughed into her car.

The airbag had deployed, and smashed the windshield into a million tiny pieces.

He sat on the seat to turn off the ignition, and then grabbed her purse from the passenger seat.

Ethan’s hands clenched into fists as he strode back to his truck. He slid behind the wheel and set her purse beside her. The muscles in his stomach clenched. He punched the overhead light and turned to face her. Her wide, green eyes pierced his soul.

He reached his hand to cup her face, his thumb brushed over her cheekbone. A pinkish-purple hue stained the delicate skin there.

“Did you see him?”

She shook her head. Shit.

At least she’d seen the make and model of the truck.

“If you hadn’t of come when you did…”

“Shhh.” He smoothed her hair back. “I did, and you’re going to be okay. I’m taking you to a hospital and—”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Riley, you were just in a bad accident.”

Her hand grasped his, which rested on the console. “Ethan, please. I just want to go home…with you. I’m okay, really.”

He caught a droplet of blood on his fingertip and held it out to her. “You hit your head good.” He leaned closer, but couldn’t see in the dim shadows. “I think there’s a gash near your hair.”

She pulled out of his reach. “I’m fine. I didn’t even black out, I promise. Please, get me out of here.” She flicked her gaze to the window, her attention scanned the outside.

Fuck, he hated that she was scared. He nodded his head in agreement, and turned the truck around to head back toward town. He was experienced enough to spot a concussion and would carry her in if she needed it.

Her fingers wiggled into his clenched fist. He tightened his hold; she was freezing. Keeping his eyes on the road, he brought her fingers to his lips and blew hot air on them. When he got her settled he’d call the cops.

“Did you get a plate number?” He ground the words out through the iron that had set in his jaw. It was a damn miracle she’d been able to walk away with little more than scratches and bruises.

“Ethan.” Her voice permeated his thoughts. Her hand tightened on his. He glanced at her. She stared at him, her face ashen. He’d been lost in thought of the what-ifs and had totally missed what she’d said.

He pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Sorry, babe. Just thinking.”

“I didn’t get a plate number. After I hit the tree, he turned around and came back. He was going to get out, but headlights came down the road. He—”

“Shhh. He’s gone.”

“He’s going to come back.” Her voice was small.

He squeezed her hand. “We’re going to catch the bastard. When did you first notice him behind you?”

She let out a shaky breath. “Not long after I pulled onto the highway. The road had been empty when I turned onto it. He showed up a few minutes later.”

“He could have been waiting.” He rested his hand on her bare, sleek thigh. His fingers moved to caress her smooth skin. “Let’s not think about it right now, okay? We can talk more later. For now, I want you to rest your head.”

They entered the town limits, bringing him to Main Street and only a couple blocks from his house.

If he had of lived farther… if he couldn’t have gotten to her as fast as he did…

A hard lump formed in his throat. He couldn’t go there.

If Riley was right and the bastard came back, he would have to get though Ethan first.

Her head turned to look out the window, her soft, shallow breaths barely audible over his raging blood. He turned down the road leading to his house. The overcast night obstructed the moon’s glow, making it darker than usual. She undid her seat belt before he put the truck into park.

“Wait a minute,” he rasped. He turned off the ignition and rounded the vehicle. He opened the passenger door and reached for her waist.

“Ethan, I can walk.” She wiggled out of his arms and reluctantly, he lowered her to her feet.

There was that damn armor of hers. Her hand closed in his though, and she leaned into his side as he led her up the short walkway. He lifted his elbow over her head to block the rain.

They went up the couple of steps to the front porch.

Bugs swarmed around the covered outside light, seeking shelter from the storm.

He inserted the key and swung the door open.

One look around the messy kitchen brought his hand to his head.

He bent to pick up his gym clothes from that morning that lay on the floor between the kitchen and laundry room.

He tossed them at the washer and closed the door.

“What can I say, I’m a bachelor.” He shrugged.

She smiled. “It’s not that bad.” She slid her shoes off and stepped into the kitchen.

At least he’d put his supper dishes in the sink. The smell of hamburgers still lingered in the air.

“Smells yummy,” she said softly as she leaned over the dirty frying pan on the stove. Stepping between her and the appliance, he moved the pan to the sink.

“Are you hungry? There’s leftovers in the fridge.”

Her hand went to her stomach. “I’m starving. But I don’t think I can eat right now. Maybe later.”

The bright kitchen light revealed every scratch and abrasion on her creamy skin. His stomach constricted.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” His hand fell to the slight curve at the small of her back as he led her through the living room and to the bathroom.

Thankfully, he’d picked up this morning and only his tablet and laptop littered the couch and coffee table.

He switched on the bathroom light and guided her to the closed toilet seat.

She sat, her feet crossed at the ankles, her hands rested on her thighs.

He took the first aid kit out from beneath the sink—he didn’t travel anywhere without being well equipped—and opened it. She peered over the edge of the kit.

“What’s in there?”

He pulled out some rubbing alcohol and swabs. “Everything I need. That gash looks pretty bad though, Rye.” Blood matted the soft blond locks near her temple and ear. He poured some alcohol on the swab and began wiping the scrapes.

Air sucked in through her clenched teeth. “Ouch, that stings.” She pulled her face out of reach, but he stopped her from moving with his free hand.

“I know, but it needs to be cleaned. You can have a nice hot shower when I’m done, okay? And then a burger and fries.”

“Are you bribing me with food?” She winced as he swiped over the cut on the side of her head. He mopped up the blood, then got another clean alcohol swab and cleaned it again.

“It’s the only tempting thing I have.”

Her tongue smoothed over her bruised lip. The movement shouldn’t have made him hard, shouldn’t have made him want to take that tongue in his mouth, to stretch her out on his bed and—

“I beg to differ,” she said softly.

Fire surged through him. Her eyes drifted from his face over his chest and down to his belt buckle. He groaned. “Don’t do that Rye. You don’t know what you’re signing up for.”