Page 3 of Her Marine Master (Master Me #4)

She climbed in Alexander's car—an old Toyota Corolla—and attempted to make small talk.

Unfortunately, the guy wasn't doing much for her.

Her excitement at having a date had faded when she'd met Rob, and now, meeting Alexander in person, all the rest of her interest died away too. He wasn't her type.

Fortunately, he didn't seem to notice, because he chattered away about his chiropractic business, bragging about how quickly he'd grown it since opening his doors a year ago.

He took her to a trendy bar, where thankfully, a band was playing, which saved her from making more conversation. Not that it stopped Alexander. He shouted over the music, droning on about his extensive experience as a chiropractor and all his successes with patients.

It took all Kaitlyn's self-control not to pull out her phone and start texting Becky about what a loser the guy was. Maybe she could fake a headache to go home early. Too bad he'd picked her up, because now she was at his mercy.

Note to self—next time, drive your own car and meet the guy.

Forty-five minutes later, the band took a break and she stood up. "Well, I should get home. I have to get up early tomorrow for, um… the farmer's market."

He looked disappointed. "Do you want another drink?"

"Nope, I'm all set. Let's get going."

He took her elbow as they headed out. With another guy, she might not mind the gesture, but it felt controlling and weird from Alexander. She resisted the urge to shake his hand off. The date was almost over.

"So how many guys have you dated that you met online?"

She nibbled her lip. "Not many."

"I've been doing it for a while. A lot of girls aren't as pretty as you are, but I do find a lot of desperate ones who are all too happy to have sex."

Ew.

She didn't love that he was steering the conversation toward sex.

"Oh really? I don't do that."

"What, have sex?"

"With people I meet online. Yeah."

He snorted. "Never?"

"No, never." If she sounded defensive, it was because she wanted to be sure he understood. Sex was off the table.

He pulled up in front of her apartment.

"Okay, well, it's been fun." She jumped out of the car.

"I'll walk you in."

"That's not necessary," she said, slamming the car door.

"Yes, it is. I know how to be a gentleman." He hurried to catch her elbow again.

Ugh. Really?

They got to her door and she hesitated. Should she unlock it and then say goodbye, or try to get rid of him first?

She turned to him, but he looked like he wanted to kiss her, so she jerked her focus back to the door and slid the key in the lock.

The moment the door opened, Alexander shoved her inside, clapping a hand over her mouth and an arm around her waist. Her purse went flying, contents spilling out on the floor.

She screamed, but it came out muffled against his hand.

He kicked the door shut and carried her, thrashing and flailing to the bedroom.

His thumb covered her nose, making it impossible to breathe. Her heart jumped to her throat, cold panic swept through her veins.

He dropped her on the bed. His hand came off her mouth for a moment and she got a half-scream in before it clamped back down.

She kicked, aiming for his balls, but he jerked to the side in time to avoid it. He crawled over her and clamped his thighs around her legs to subdue her.

His hand slipped from her mouth and she screamed as loudly as possible. It only lasted a second before he cut off her air with his fingers closed around her throat.

Her eyes bulged. She thrashed underneath him. Thinking of the Marine next door, she reached out and slapped the bedroom wall.

Please hear me.

Alexander's fingers tightened around her neck. The edges of her vision turned black. Stars danced before her eyes. Light bled away.

God help her, he was going to kill her.

The apartment walls were paper thin. He'd heard when Dimples brought a man home, their voices in the hall carrying into his apartment.

It shouldn't annoy him to hear a male voice.

He didn't want to date Dimples. Even so, he wondered what kind of guy she'd brought home.

A straight-laced salesman type. That was his guess.

An accountant. A lawyer. His lip curled in a sneer.

They'd marry Dimples because she'd look good on their arm, and they wouldn't deserve the purity of her heart.

He turned up the television to block out the sound. If they were going to have sex, he sure as hell didn't want to hear it.

He watched as Rick Grimes and his son killed five zombies on The Walking Dead . That was what he felt like some days—a zombie.

He sat up and hit mute on the television.

Was that a scream?

He listened.

Nothing more came from next door.

Nah. He'd probably imagined it.

But then a thud sounded against the wall.

He stood up from the couch, his instincts kicking into high alert, adrenaline coursing through his body.

But no, this was probably more of his PTSD. The shrink said his body jumped into emergency mode too easily. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. He walked out into the hall and listened at Kaitlyn's door.

Nothing.

He knocked.

Still nothing, and yet he was sure someone was inside. He'd just heard their voices in the hallway, hadn't he?

He tried the knob, but it was locked. Something crunched under his foot.

He looked down. On the floor lay a crushed tube of lip gloss.

Were those the contents of Kaitlyn's purse?

He saw lipstick, and a phone with a pink butterfly protector.

No way she would have left those there unless something had gone wrong.

Stepping back, he brought the sole of his foot to the door, right at the handle, splintering the thin wood. The door flew open.

Down the hall, the bedroom door stood open and Rob could see a guy was working his pants down with one hand, the other was clasped around Kaitlyn's throat. She lay on the bed, unmoving.

Shit.

The guy whirled, his look startled fury.

Rob pounded down the hallway and into the bedroom, his fist connecting with the guy's temple.

Kaitlyn moaned as the guy dropped to the floor in a limp heap.

With her skirt tangled up around her waist and her panties down at her ankles, she gasped for breath, coughing hoarsely. Angry red fingerprints stood out on her throat. That would bruise.

Torn between killing the guy on the floor and helping Kaitlyn, Rob delivered a kick to the guy's ribs and reached for the panties, yanking them up.

Confusion, then horror flashed in her eyes as she took in her position and the state of her undress.

He was almost positive the asshole hadn't raped her yet. "Hey. Are you okay?"

Stupid question.

He grasped the hem of her skirt and tugged it down, then pulled her up off the bed. His training told him not to leave the enemy unguarded for a moment. "Hey, if you can walk, can you go get your phone and call the cops for me?"

She didn't move, shock streaking her face.

"Kaitlyn." He added just a tinge of authority to his tone, but otherwise kept it gentle. She didn't need any more trauma right now.

She shook her head. "No cops. Can you just get rid of him?"

"Uh uh. No way. We're calling the cops. This guy does not get a free pass."

The guy struggled to his knees. Rob dropped onto his back, shoving him down to his belly. "Do you have any duct tape?"

"Rob… can you just get rid of him?" she pleaded. "I don't want him here."

He wrestled the asshole's wrists behind his back. He really wished he had some fucking duct tape because the urge to break the guy's wrists was too damn strong. "Call the cops, Kaitlyn. Now ."

She hesitated a moment longer, then ran out of the room.

"Your phone is in the hallway," he shouted over his shoulder.

The dude had regained full consciousness and was struggling for all he was worth. Rob picked up his head by the hair and slammed it back down against the floor, knocking him out again.

He heard Kaitlyn's voice on the phone, shaky and scared. She gave her address. "He's… I don't know if he's conscious. My neighbor is sitting on him… Okay… all right… thanks."

She came back in the room and handed him a roll of duct tape. He was impressed that she'd been clear-minded enough to multi-task while on the phone with emergency services. He wrapped the asshole's wrists up, then wound tape around his ankles and slapped a piece over his mouth for good measure.

Only then did he think it was safe enough to stand up and wrap Kaitlyn up in a hug.

She fell against him, her body trembling. She smelled sweet, like cucumbers and melon, her dark red hair softer than he'd expected where it brushed his neck.

He rubbed his hands up and down her back. "You're okay. You're safe now."

"Did he? Did…"

"I don't think so. You were passed out and he was trying to get his pants down when I came in."

"But do you think—"

"No."

She was probably too shaken up to know what had happened to her. "But the cops will probably have you go to the hospital and get checked out."

"No!" She pulled away from him, her big green eyes agitated. "I don't want to go to the hospital. I just want this to be over."

He cupped her beautiful face, lightly running his thumb over her cheek. "Shh. It will be okay. I'll go with you."

"No, I don't want to—"

"It's not up for discussion." He did his best at kind but stern. It wasn't his normal Dom persona—usually he was a cold-hearted bastard—but Kaitlyn needed warmth tonight. He hadn't thought himself capable of that anymore. It surprised him that he wanted to try.

For the first time since he'd come home from the last tour on a stretcher, without his detail, he felt something other than despair.

Which was pretty ass-backwards considering the girl he was with just got assaulted.

She wanted to stay wrapped up in Rob's arms for the rest of the night.

Make that the rest of her life.

He made her feel safe. Protected. Strength radiated from the powerful muscles, his calm in the face of nauseating trauma made it feel like everything would be okay.