“That’s more like it, yes?” he says, his dark eyes glowing with satisfaction. “I like you better scared. Are you going to cry for me, ma cherie?”
Time slows as he reaches into his jacket and pulls out a gun. A pathetic sound is torn from my throat and my knees nearly give out. I can’t die like this. And for what? I still don’t know who this man is or why he’s obsessed with me.
“Not so brave now, are we?” he taunts as he lifts the gun up higher so it’s aimed right at my head.
I can’t take my eyes off his trigger finger. For one brief, terrifying second, I think he’s going to pull it and end my life right here in this remote cabin.
Instead, the gun slips out of his hand, which is still dripping with wet glue and paint. I watch the matte black metal object clatter to the floor and spin toward me. It takes my shocked brain a second to kick in, but I manage to bend down and grab the gun. I have no idea how to shoot the damn thing, but I feel better with it my hands, however shaky they may be.
“Now, now,” he says, holding his messy hands up. I’d laugh at the site of my stalker covered in art supplies, but I hardly have enough air in my lungs to keep from passing out. His eyes are still hard and determined and his sick smile is back, but his voice betrays his nerves. “Why don’t you—"
“No!” I shout, cutting him off. I don’t have a plan here; I just know I somehow gained the upper hand and I can’t risk losing it. “Get on your knees with your hands behind your head.” I’ve heard that in cop shows before, so it seemed like the right thing to say.
“Funny, I was planning on asking you the same thing soon enough.”
My stomach rolls at the implication of his words. Bile rises up in my throat at the thought of this man touching me, hurting me, forcing me to do unspeakable things.
He takes advantage of my shock and lunges for me, but he slips on the pile of magazines I was keeping at the foot of the table. The man smacks his head on the edge of the chair and shouts out in pain.
“Stay,” I yell at him, training the gun on the man lying prone on the floor. I’m trembling so much my teeth chatter, but I don’t dare move from my position. A sob wracks my body, but I swallow back the tears.
Just as I’m about to have a full-on panic attack, I hear the most comforting sound in the world. Logan’s roar rips through the small cabin, his heavy footsteps coming closer and closer until he’s standing in the kitchen, taking in the scene.
Our eyes lock and I know everything is going to be okay.
11
Logan
Spencer’s wide, terrified eyes meet mine, spiking my already dangerous levels of rage and adrenaline.
It takes me a second to comprehend the scene in front of me. My angel is standing in the kitchen with a gun pointed at a man covered in glitter, paint, and a myriad of other shit. What the hell is going on?
It happens in an instant.
The momentary distraction I provided Spencer made the intruder brave. He sweeps his leg under Spencer’s feet, causing her to fall backward and land with a thud. I lunge toward the man as the gun smacks against the ground, setting off a shot.
Spencer screams and the motherfucker tries reaching for the gun, but I grab his throat and pin him to the ground. With a knee on his chest and my hand squeezing his neck, I hold him in place while looking over my shoulder at Spencer.
She’s sitting on the floor with her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped around her legs.
“Are you hurt?” I growl. I know my tone is harsh but I can’t help it. This whole fucking thing is messed up and I’m bursting at the seams to beat this man into a bloody pulp.
She shakes her head no as a shiver runs through her body. I scan the room, looking for the gun. When I see it on the other side of the living room, I let out a breath of relief. The bullet hole in the front door puts me more at ease, knowing it didn’t hit my angel.
“Go to the other room, Spencer. I’ll take care of this.” I squeeze the fucker’s throat for emphasis, making him choke and sputter.
“No,” she says, her voice trembling. I stare at her for a second, not sure I heard her right. “I’m not running away scared this time,” she murmurs, her voice a little stronger than before.
As much as I want her to lock herself in the bedroom and hide in the closet until I’ve dealt with her stalker, I can’t help but also be proud of my woman. I have no idea what the fuck just happened, and I’ll never forgive myself for not being here, but Spencer was a fucking warrior today. She wants to see this all the way through to the end, and damn if I don’t respect the hell out of that.
I nod once, then lift the sputtering man up by his throat and slam him back down on the floor, knocking the wind out of him. Then, I flip him on his stomach, grabbing his right arm and twisting it behind his back. The man screams out in pain as I increase the pressure, then drag him to his feet.
Holding him in front of me, I walk two steps to the nearest wall and shove his face into it while keeping him pinned down.
"There's a zip tie in my bag," I tell Spencer, nodding toward the duffle bag next to the couch. "Front pocket."
She stands up on shaky legs but holds her chin high as she makes her way to the couch. Goddamn, she's a vision. The image of her pushing through her fear, even though tears pour down her cheeks, will be burned into my memory for all time.
I grip the back of the man's neck and turn him roughly before shoving him to the ground. He grunts but doesn't fight me. He knows I'd crush his windpipe in an instant. Spencer is by my side a few seconds later, handing me the zip tie. I twist the intruder's arms behind his back, around one of the legs of the solid oak dining table, then secure his wrists.
Once he’s subdued, I lean back and stare at his beady black eyes before surveying the damage. I smirk when I see a bump in his previously perfectly straight nose, blood pouring down his face from the break.
I cock my fist and punch him square in the jaw, pleased when he spits out blood and a tooth. The little shit whimpers, then glares at me.
“Fuck you,” he chokes out.
I wind up to hit him again, but then I feel a soft hand on my shoulder. Spencer is still right next to me, her brown eyes focused solely on mine. I want to rip this fucker’s throat out, but Spencer is silently telling me that’s not the right thing to do.
It goes against every single one of my instincts to step away from the man, but I obey my queen. This is her moment, after all.
“Who are you?” she demands, crossing her arms over her chest. I take in my brave warrior goddess as she glares at her stalker. She’s still pale and trembling slightly, but her jaw is set and her mind is made up. She’s not going to let her fear rule her anymore.
“Claude Dubois,” he sputters out.
“What do you want from me?”
His bloodied lips pull into a sickening grin. I’m about to slap the look off his face, but Spencer shocks the hell out of me by doing it herself.
“Bitch!”
I growl and take a step forward, clenching my fists at my sides. The urge to end his life courses through me, but I stand firm, letting Spencer continue.
She shakes her hand out, then grimaces when she sees the blood on her hand. She wipes it off and then crosses her arms once again. How is she so adorable and badass at the same time?