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Releasing my neck, the man backhanded me across the face.

Were he not holding me up by his vice grip on my arm, I would surely have flown across the porch.

Now fisting my hair viciously, the brute dragged me backwards into the house and slammed the door behind us.

Though dazed, I screamed, the agony radiating across the back of my skull.

In a panic, I kicked my legs back against him, and flailed my puny fists, trying to do anything to break his hold so that I could escape.

He stopped cold, and roughly folded my body in half, using his grip on my hair to hold my head several inches above the floor.

“Where is it?” he growled.

“Let me go!” I shrieked. I reached back and tried to pry his fingers from my scalp, but it was as useless as trying to claw through dried cement.

“The nuclear reactor. Where did he take it?” the man demanded, and I cried out as he jerked my head back and forth. I dug my nails into his hand, earning another painful yank that hurt so much it nearly brought tears to my eyes.

“Please! Let go! You’re hurting me!” I screeched. He shook me again, head and body, as though I was nothing more than a rag doll. “I don’t have it! I swear, I don’t have the reactor,” I pleaded with this mountain, tears rushing to my eyes.

The front door crashed open, slamming into the wall behind it with a boom.

It shook the walls hard enough to jostle the table beside it, and the crystal vase full of freshly cut roses teetered back and forth before crashing to the floor.

It shattered, sparkling pieces scattering everywhere.

Water splashed and pooled outward. The beautiful blood red roses lay on the floor, perfectly still, surrounded by the destruction.

From my bent and painful position, my panicked gaze jerked to the door.

Ryker!

My husband stood there in the doorway like a wild animal assessing his prey for the opportune moment to attack. Something caught the light, and I glanced down, sucking in a breath when I noticed the large knife in his hand. The blade was long and sharp and deadly.

He was dressed in dark colors, still filthy from his expedition. His dark, brown leather jacket was mud spattered, and the gray T-shirt underneath was stained with sweat and dirt.

Ryker’s thunderous expression was terrifying to behold. His eyes flashed and his jaw clenched with fury. His black brows were drawn down low over his eyes, evidence of the tenuous restraint only just barely keeping him at bay.

“You weren’t supposed to be here,” the man holding me captive roared.

“This is my home,” Ryker rumbled. He took a step inside the house, and I could have sworn he was even bigger than I remembered. I shook from head to toe, struggling in my assailant’s iron grip. His fingers clenched tighter, and I cried out as a fresh wave of agony coursed through me.

“Take your hands off my wife,” Ryker snarled.

My stomach pitched at the fearsome sound. I whimpered as the man jerked my head up and to the side when Ryker took another step toward us.

“She’s coming with me,” the asshole spat. I flinched when his spittle landed on my cheek.

“She’s not going anywhere with you,” Ryker answered.

The man abruptly threw me aside, my body landing in a heap on the floor.

My head bounced off the hardwood floor and I lay there dazed, watching the two men explode into a flurry of activity.

The bastard reached to his belt and grabbed his own knife.

He was fierce and rough, but it didn’t seem to faze Ryker at all.

He rushed at the man with his knife extended and murder written on his face.

From my position outside the fray, I finally got a good look at my attacker.

He was even more enormous than I had thought. His body was one giant mass of bulging muscle. And I’d seen him before: He was Councilwoman Davis’s personal security guard.

This was no emissary. I had to swallow down the bile that rose in my throat as I realized there was no glorified new position and a penthouse awaiting me back in New Englandia. They’d sent an assassin to kidnap me and recover the fusion reactor and, undoubtedly, to kill me after he’d secured it.

To them, I’d been an expendable nothing all along.

Ryker’s arm swept up, connecting with the side of the man’s skull hard enough for the crack to echo throughout the room.

He stood there for a long moment and then shook it off, immediately going hard at my husband as if he’d never been hit.

He swung at Ryker with his knife, but thankfully, Ryker dove out of the way just in time for the man to sink his blade deep into the wall instead.

He yanked at it, but the knife wouldn’t come out right away. Ryker took advantage and smashed him in the head again. His other hand wound around the man’s throat, pressing his blade firmly against his flesh.

“I’m not here for you,” the bastard blurted out.

“But you ARE here for her, which means you have to go through me,” Ryker growled.

Feeling his own imminent death from the blade at his throat, the man jerked desperately at his own knife.

He stumbled backwards when it came free, unbalancing them both.

They fell backwards onto the floor, the beast atop my husband.

Glass crunched beneath them, and I slapped my hand over my mouth to silence my cry of alarm. Ryker!

Snapping out of my paralysis, the need to do something to help Ryker slammed into me.

The two men scrambled on the floor, limbs tangled, each trying to gain an advantage over the other, and my gaze ricocheted around the room.

There was another bouquet of flowers next to the couch in a heavy, lead crystal vase.

Ever since we’d married, Ryker had ensured that there were fresh flowers all over the house.

He’d told me he liked the way that I smiled every time I looked at them.

I had something different for them in mind at this particular moment.

Pushing myself up to my feet as quickly as I could, I edged toward the vase. The two men were locked in battle on the floor and neither one paid any attention to me.

Adrenaline surged through me as I kept an eye on the battle raging in our living room.

One moment, Ryker would be on top, and then the beast would gain the upper hand and punch him again and again.

His grunts of pain made my stomach turn.

Both men were bloodied but it wasn’t clear that Ryker would be the victor and that terrified me.

I wrapped my hands around the heavy vase and lifted it off the side table, maneuvering around behind the brawling pair. When it looked like my attacker was gaining the upper hand again, I heaved the vase over my head and crashed it down on the back of his head.

I hit him so hard the crystal broke over his skull.

Water flooded into his eyes, and he immediately tried to use one arm to clear his vision.

He wavered a little, clearly stunned, and Ryker took advantage of the distraction to sink his blade into the man’s neck all the way to the hilt, in one side and out the other.

The assassin grunted in shock before he slumped over.

Ryker scrambled away from him, got to his feet, and pulled his knife free, angling it to make sure enough damage was done to stop him permanently.

We both watched in stunned silence as blood pumped from the severed arteries, shards of broken crystal creating twinkling islands in the gruesome spreading pool.

A sob escaped me, the horror of the last few minutes crashing through me in the bizarre silence that had fallen over the room.

Ryker rushed toward me and used his body to block the sight of the man dying on the floor.

“Shhh. It’s okay. You’re safe now, my darling. I’m here. You’re safe.”