“You’re making a mistake. There’s nothing you can do to save her.”
“Wrong. Now get up. You’re going to take me to her.” She took a step forward until she had the barrel pressed against his head.
He stood slowly, and she watched him, wary for any signs he was going to struggle. But he seemed relaxed, and she followed close behind him until they were almost to the door.
The thrust of his elbow meeting her chin caught her by surprise, and she reeled back as he swung around. He didn’t hesitate as he reached out to pull the gun away and then landed a punch to the side
of her head. A flashing light and more pain and she was falling.
He kicked her in the side, and she cried out against the pain, trying to get into the fetal position to protect herself from his strikes. He knelt down, hovering over her, his hand at her throat. She clawed at his eyes, and she experienced more pain as he lifted her head before slamming it down against the floor. The shock of the pain took her breath, and she was stunned for a moment as she tried to open her eyes, only to have the scattering brightness from the lights bring them shut again.
She couldn’t fight. Couldn’t move her head or her arms. She waited for the next blow.
He was still fueled by anger as his hand ripped at the gown, the tearing sound of the fabric in her ears. His breath was in her face, near her ear as he whispered, “This is only the beginning.”
She opened her eyes as the shooting pain from her head subsided, and she stared up at the ceiling, praying it would be over soon. Praying that Darcy, her baby, wasn’t enduring anything as painful or humiliating…
From her fog, she saw movement behind Ayman as the door slammed open. A roar of anger filled the room. Then the figure was flying across the room, slamming into Ayman and pulling him off her.
Stand. Run.
But she couldn’t seem to move, and she tried to focus on the two figures wrestling before her. Hope and relief soared through her, and she choked on a near laugh.
Travis? How?
…
With Jace at his side, they’d managed to neutralize the men who met them at the door and force their way into the suite. At seeing their entry, four men had burst forward, guns drawn and ready to fight. But they had nowhere near the same training as Travis and Jace, and they easily outmaneuvered them, with only one fatality when the guy wouldn’t stand down—Travis had shot him before the guy put a bullet in his friend.
The body had barely crumpled when Meredith’s scream tore through him, sharper than any bullet, and he’d raced to the door and shoved it open.
Meredith was on the floor, Ayman on top of her. A white-hot rage like no other had surged through Travis. He was going to tear the guy apart.
Ayman had barely turned his head toward the door when Travis slammed into him, taking him with him as they rolled to the floor, away from Meredith. He stole a moment to see if she was okay, and his gut wrenched at the blood and swelling on her face, the dazed look as she lay there, the fight gone from her. It was the fuel he needed.
He would show no mercy.
It was only when the man’s head finally fell back, unconscious from the last blow, that reality seeped into his brain.
Meredith.
He reached her side and lifted her up, and she winced under his slight pressure. “Think…my ribs. Hurts to breathe,” she managed.
“You’re safe. They can’t hurt you or anyone. Never again.”
“Darcy.” She started up, as if to stand, but she stopped and gasped.
Hell, she could have a couple of fractured ribs. Maybe internal bleeding. He considered walking back over the guy, unconscious or not, to kick him until he heard the satisfying crunch of ribs under his foot. But that would involve letting Meredith go.
“Jace went to get her. She’ll be fine.”
The crash in the room behind him told him that reinforcements had arrived. The question was, whose?
A moment later, the room was filled with uniformed police officers, their guns raised as they looked around the room, assessing it. He tossed his own gun a few feet away so he wouldn’t be perceived as threat.
“Are you Travis or Jace?” one of them asked him.
“Travis.” Meems must have filled them in. Saving him a lot of trouble.