No, she didn’t want to die. She wanted to live a long and happy life with War. Maybe have a kid or two. Definitely get a pug. She wanted to walk along the beach at sunset. She wanted to make love with War under the moonlight. Rose had a million things on her to-do list. And dying?
Not on that list.
She let her hands fall limply to her sides.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Gary leaned in closer once more. Brought his snarling face right before hers.
Her fingers slid into her pocket. Curled around the ring that she’d put there earlier. The ring War had given to her. Her ring.
“You’re not making this any good!”
Oh, she was screwing this up for him? Great.
His lips pulled back as he bared his teeth at her and began to tighten the rope once more—
Her left hand flew up. She gripped the ring tightly and she raked the diamond across his face as hard as she could.
He screamed and backed up. A stumbling step. She flew to the side and raced away from the kitchen. The rope was still around her throat, but she wasn’t going to slow down, she was going to—
War.
She almost ran straight into him. He was on his feet. Right near the kitchen. Weaving a little, but upright. Still covered in blood. But up. “War?”
He grabbed her. Shoved her behind him. “G-go. Told you…g-go…” He yanked the rope off her neck. “Call…cops…”
“I will kill you both!” Gary promised. “You first, then her!”
“No.” That’s all War said. Just a deep, hard rumble.
A guttural yell broke from Gary. He surged toward War with his fists swinging.
War didn’t move at all. Rose was diving toward the couch and the gun that was still under it. She could get the gun and stop Gary. She could help War. She could—
Gary thudded into the floor near her.
She screamed and twisted her body.
War was straddled over him, and War pounded his fist into Gary’s face over and over. Gary was trying to fight back, but it was like watching someone swat ineffectively at a fly. His blows just seemed to rain off War.
Then War took the black rope, and he wrapped it around Gary’s neck. He tightened it as fear flooded into Gary’s expression.
“How does…that feel?” War grated.
Gary’s mouth hung open. Croaking noises emerged from him as his face became blood-red.
War didn’t let him go. Gary was still swinging at War, but his swats became even weaker. So weak that soon his hands fell to the floor.
His mouth was still wide open. So were his eyes.
She pushed up to her knees. “War?”
He didn’t look her way. “Call…cops.”
“War, he’s dying.”
He didn’t let go.
“War…” She inched toward him.
Gary’s body had just gone limp. He’d lost consciousness. How long would it take for him to die? “He’s not fighting.”
“He…shouldn’t be living. He…” War swallowed. “I won’t…last longer…have to make sure…no threat…you.”
He wouldn’t last longer? Oh, the hell, he wouldn’t. He was going to last for the next fifty years. At least. Sixty. Seventy would be fabulous. “War, let him go.”
He didn’t.
She jumped to her feet. Searched quickly and frantically and found the handcuffs that Odin had brought back to them. Rose raced to War, and she grabbed his arms. “Let go.” Because she could see—more clearly than ever—that his control was gone. War was operating on pure animal instinct.
His main instinct? It was to protect her. To eliminate any threat to her.
That threat wasn’t moving.
“War…look at me.”
War’s gaze lifted to her face. His dark stare seemed unfocused. Lost.
“He’s out. He won’t hurt me.” She wrenched up Gary’s hands and cuffed them. “He’s secure. Let him go so I can take care of you.”
“You…safe?”
“I am.”
His white-knuckled grip eased. As the rope loosened, her fingers slid to Gary’s throat. There was a weak, thready pulse. The bastard was still alive.
War fell back.
She grabbed for him. “War!”
His breath heaved out. “That’s…lot of blood.”
It was an insane amount of blood. Enough to have her losing her mind. She needed to put pressure on his wounds, but she also had to call for help because War needed an ambulance and Gary needed a cop car. She managed to find a phone, and Rose dialed nine-one-one with shaky fingers. It was only when she was giving the address to the emergency dispatcher that Rose realized her voice sounded like a raspy croak and that her throat burned and throbbed.
She put that pain out of her mind. It didn’t matter. Nothing but War mattered. The cops were coming. An ambulance was coming. War would be okay. No other option existed for her.
Her hands pushed against his chest. His blood immediately seeped through her fingers.
“Rose?”
“What is it?” When he didn’t respond and his eyes sagged shut, she yelled, “War!”
“Love…you.”
“I love you, too, so don’t you dare think of dying on me. Do you hear me? War? War? So help me…if you die on me, I will make you sorry that you were ever born.” Tears poured but she ignored them and kept up the pressure on his chest. “You don’t want to piss me off. So don’t you die. Please, War, please. Don’t die!”
Chapter Twenty-One
“You’re a lucky sonofabitch, you know that?” Odin helped himself to the yogurt on War’s hospital food tray. “You nab the killer, you get the girl, and you score more scars so your rep looks extra tough. Wins all around for you.”
War pulled his gaze away from the TV screen. His favorite reporter was about to come on the air. He didn’t want to miss the next segment but… “I wanted to kill him.”
Odin shoveled the chocolate yogurt in his mouth. “Why didn’t you?”
“Rose.”
Because she’d been staring at him. Eyes terrified. Body trembling. A red line around her neck from where the rope had been.
It had taken all of War’s strength to get off that floor and go after Gary. But there was no way he would have let Rose die. “I think she didn’t want me having his death on my conscience or something like that.”
Odin made a face.
“I know. My conscience would have been just fine.” He risked a glance at the TV. She wasn’t on yet. “But there were vics the cops didn’t know about. A whole hell of a lot more. That sick freak was at this for a while.”
“I hear there won’t be any deals for him.” Odin put down the empty cup.
“Not a damn one.” He’d get life in prison or death row. A jury would decide his fate. “I wanted that yogurt.”
“Um.”
War shook his head. He saw the segment he’d been waiting on pop up. War grabbed the remote and turned up the volume.
“Gary Strom has admitted to stalking and murdering eleven women,” Rose said as she stood in front of the courthouse. Her voice was grim, sad. “His confession came following a police search of his office—a search that uncovered records of his attacks dating back five years.”