Naughty Stranger (Dangerous Love 1)

So calm. So steady. God, she felt instantly better being held by him. “Yes, yes, I’m not shot. Are you okay?”

He nodded and cupped her face, looking both torn and devastated. “I can’t stay.”

“I know. Go.”

His eyes were tight, full of regret, and anger, and things she’d never seen in his eyes before. He was on his feet a second later and she watched him run toward the stairwell door. The moment he opened the door, gunshots rang out.

Logic failed to enter her mind. She couldn’t lose him. “Boone,” she screamed, jumping to her feet and charging toward the stairwell.

Chapter 16

The glow of the hospital lights faded as Boone kept his weapon aimed ahead of him. He’d dodged a couple shots and fired at the fucker and missed. He’d also heard Peyton scream his name, sheer terror, but he pressed on, desperate to protect her. In the next few seconds, the attacker had taken out the cop that had been stationed at the hospital’s back door and gotten himself under the cover of the forest that rested behind the hospital. Boone slowed his breathing, trying to listen to his surroundings. Off in the distance, cars drove on the highway, and he heard a few car doors opening and shutting, as well as an ambulance somewhere on the highway. But in this forest there was nothing, no sounds, not even birds making their appearance known.

Boone held his breath as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He listened closely, waiting for a sound to show him the way. A lesson he’d learned from his father while hunting. Something that he hoped this bastard had never been taught.

Patience, son, his father had once told him. Then don’t hesitant and take the shot. That had been the lesson. One Boone appreciated now. And he realized when he heard the crack of a stick behind him that the man Boone chased had given himself away by trying to hunt Boone.

Boone spun in the same second he heard the gunshot followed by the bullet hitting the tree over Boone’s shoulder. Boone only had one chance now, and he wouldn’t let this guy get away again.

Twice this fucker nearly killed Peyton.

Never again. No one hurt her. Not anymore.

Acting on instinct, Boone charged forward, only seeing the shadow of the man next to him. The perp dodged him once, but Boone stayed right on his heels as the man ran forward, weaving his way in between the trees. Another sharp right put Boone behind a tree, and he knew the perp was close. Again, Boone stopped. Listened. Waited. Until he heard the click of the trigger to his right. He trusted his instincts. He charged like he was taking a man down on the football field and hit a solid body.

The man grunted beneath him as they hit the forest floor, and Boone pinned him to the ground with his forearm on the guy’s neck. “Stay down,” he growled as the man fought, giving Boone a hard right hook, knocking him backward.

Right as the perp leaped up, Boone lurched forward again, tackling the fucker to the ground. He pinned one of the perp’s arms beneath his knee, and the other he held tight with his grip, pressing the man down into the forest floor.

“Stay the fuck down,” Boone repeated, breathless.

“Fuck you.” The guy slammed his head into Boone’s, sending Boone falling back on his ass. Then a piercing pain slammed against his skull as the man smacked his gun against Boone’s head.

Boone ended up on his knees and shook his head, trying desperately to clear the fog. His eyes were on his gun on the ground in front of him, his vision blurry. The forest floor made waves around him, but Boone concentrated on his gun, hoping to hell his vision would clear.

“It ain’t personal, man,” the man said, his voice coming closer. “She had to go, and you got in the way.”

Boone held his breath, going back to his childhood, remembering his father’s lessons. Patience. He heard the swishing of the man’s clothing as he raised his arm, obviously to aim his weapon at Boone. Then take the shot. Boone acted, twisting his body, and did the only thing he could do. He grabbed his gun and fired off a shot. The gunshot echoed across the night, the silence gone, the sound of death coming.

Boone landed on the dirt. Hard.

He groaned, rolling onto his shoulder and pushing himself up, his gun still aimed at the perp.

He kept his gaze trained there, with the side of his head throbbing and wetness trickling down his cheek, as footsteps thundered, coming closer toward the right. “Boone?” Rhett called.

“Here.” He took another step closer to the perp, who began gurgling blood.

“On your six,” Asher said, his voice coming from behind him.

“Peyton,” Boone said. “Where is she?” He’d heard her come for him.

“Safe,” Rhett said. “I stopped her from coming into the forest. She’s with your father.”

Boone exhaled. Safe. She was fucking safe. His chest finally began to lighten, his gut no longer clenched.

When Rhett and Asher sidled up to Boone, the gurgling stopped, and the man’s wide-open eyes stared up at the sky he’d never see again. Boone had never taken extrem

e measures before—in New York City as a beat cop or anywhere as a detective. He hadn’t needed to. He could always talk them down. Nothing about tonight made him feel good. Not any of it.