Page 102 of His Forgotten Colton Fiancee

West slammed the heavy door shut.

The hell with that. Clutching the knife, she ran outside, closing the door as he raced to the empty field behind her building, throwing the object.

Puffs of gray smoke spun out and the ear-shattering bang jolted her off her feet, making her drop the knife. A piercing screampunctuated the blast. Screaming, screaming, it was her.

With a sickening thud, West fell downward. Clouds of smoke covered him. She couldn’t see. Where was he?

Quinn started for him.

Someone darted toward her, lips pulled back in a fierce snarl, his eyes wild. Santo Nestor. Quinn started to run when he body-slammed her against the wall.

Quinn fumbled for the Taser on her belt.Panic blossomed, but she pushed it down. She thrust the Taser at Nestor, momentarily stunning him. But the shock was too weak. She’d forgotten to fully charge it.

From behind the door, Rex howled and scratched, desperate to get to West.

If she could let the dog out, he’d be a weapon. She jumped to her feet, the door within reach. Almost there...

Nestor grabbed her around the waistand threw her hard. Her head made contact with the hard pavement and she almost blacked out. She touched her brow and her fingertips came away red.

Red. Blood.

Tia, wearing red. Business suit. Shouting on the phone the day before the bomb went off and her world exploded.You’ll never have Pine Paradise, Noel! I’ll die before I sell to you, bastard!

That man, standing at her desk, thecruel smirk on his face the day the office blew up. Nestor. The wildness in his eyes, the smell of smoke...

Nestor removed a switchblade from his back pocket. “I should have slit your throat the first time I grabbed you on the street. This time, I’ll do it slow, make you hurt. Your lover can’t help you. He’s dead.”

A sob caught in her throat. Tears escaped from her eyes. She hated Nestorseeing her hurt. West couldn’t be dead. He was too alive, too full of life.

Nestor kicked her in the belly. The rush of pain made her gasp, stole the breath from her lungs. Then he stomped on her back, forcing her to lie flat.

“You messed up my little show. Now you’re gonna pay. But first, I’m having a little fun.”

With the toe of his boot, he jabbed her ribs. Nestor tore her dress.With sickening dread, she knew what he planned to do.

Rape her, and then kill her.

* * *

Pain radiated into his ribs. A fierce ache pounded in his head. The explosion had tossed him sideways, knocking him flat. West struggled to his feet, groping for balance. Quinn was out there, alone with the perp. He had to get to her. His heart constricted. No time for panic, for the helpless feelingthreatening to take over.Use your training.It wasn’t Quinn out there, the woman he adored. Loved with all his soul. It was a vic and she needed help.

Enough dust cleared for him to see the building. Nestor had torn Quinn’s dress as she lay on the ground. Now he unzipped his pants. West reached for his gun when a bout of dizziness seized him. Damn it, he couldn’t risk hurting Quinn when hecouldn’t see straight.

But he had another weapon—his brain. West holstered his weapon.

“El Jefe,” he sang out. “Want to try again? You screwed up, big-time.”

Confusion on his face, Nestor scrambled to his feet. Sunshine glinted off the blade in his hand. “Where are you?”

Nestor turned, knife in hand.

Just as he’d hoped, Quinn made a run for it. But Nestor ran after her, grabbedher arm. Quinn, bless her, had retrieved the chef’s knife she’d dropped. She slashed Nestor’s face. A scream erupted from the man’s throat as he clawed at the wound slicing his cheek open. He darted after Quinn, blood running down his jaw.

Screw that.

Out of the cloud of smoke and dust West raced forward, running full speed like a linebacker. West reached for his weapon, praying he couldget in one good hit.

He fired.