Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 54836 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54836 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
“237 East Blueberry Lane,” Gawen said. Then, a curt, “Thank you,” before he slammed the receiver down.
We were both moving in unison, rushing toward the door as the captain barked out commands to others.
By the time we got outside, the uniforms were waiting with their cruisers, including one of our current K9 units.
Gawen and I each slipped into separate passenger seats, and we were off, flying through town.
East Blueberry Lane wasn’t in Navesink Bank. It wasn’t even in one of the neighboring towns. Which meant we were another twenty minutes behind by the time we were closing in on the location.
I was familiar with adrenaline. I’d been in more than a few dangerous situations, especially back when I was working beat.
This wasn’t that.
This was different.
I couldn’t call it anything other than an anxiety attack.
Because this was personal.
Because I had feelings for this woman.
Because I knew what she was currently enduring.
Because I couldn’t protect her.
Because I’d lost track of time.
Because I hadn’t been there when I said I would be there.
That bastard had exploited that gap in her protection, grabbed her, and taken her away from me.
Well, I was getting her back.
Hopefully before he traumatized her too much more.
My stomach was twisted in a knot, making nausea rise up my throat, forcing me to choke it back down.
My heartbeat was thrumming an uneven beat in my chest, making a sweat break out across my skin, and a tremor to start in my hands.
The siren was screaming, adding to that overwhelmed sensation coursing through me, overtaking me.
As we turned onto Blueberry Lane, my head was on a swivel, trying to find house numbers, and cursing the homeowners for not having their lights on, for not somehow being intrinsically aware of the horrors that were taking place right in their own neighborhood.
“Down at the end,” the uniform told me, making my gaze follow his out the windshield.
There were no lights on, and the entire property was blanketed in darkness.
It wasn’t until we were peeling into the driveway, with the cruiser’s headlights on the front of the property, that I could see anything.
And what I saw was Mari.
Standing behind her attacker.
With something around his throat.
Her chest was heaving.
Her eyes were that of an animal caught in headlights on a dark road at night.
I threw the door open and rushed out.
The second her gaze focused past the lights and onto me, she backed away from Brandon, leaving him to fall forward, gasping for breath.
There was a split second before she was flying at me, throwing herself into my arms.
The uniforms rushed forward around me, guns drawn, barking orders at Brandon.
I was even partly aware of Gawen calling for an ambulance.
But almost all of my attention was on the woman clinging to me, her entire body shaking, her arms like a vice grip around me, cutting off my air.
Even so, I wrapped my own arms around her, holding her tight as her breath hitched, and a cry escaped her, muffled by my shirt.
“It’s okay. You’re okay now,” I told her, my hand stroking down her back. “He will never touch you again,” I added, watching as the uniforms cuffed and dragged Brandon to his feet.
He looked like shit.
Blood was trickling down his neck, little spots dotting his shirt.
A bruise was creeping across his cheek, and a matching one was starting across his neck.
I watched as one of the uniforms shone his flashlight on the ground. Toward what Mari had dropped when she’d seen me, what she’d been using to strangle her attacker.
Her shoe strings.
She’d hit, cut, and strangled this guy.
She’d fought fucking tooth and nail for her freedom.
And had we not shown up, I was pretty sure she would have managed to get herself free. If not by downright killing him, then choking him out, and running for help.
“You’re such a survivor,” I murmured, giving her another squeeze even as the sound of the ambulance ambled down the street toward us.
“Are you hurt?” Gawen’s voice asked, strong and steady, and somehow smooth and reassuring, as he moved next to us. “Do the paramedics need to check you out?” he asked.
Her head shook against my chest.
“You should let them look at you,” I urged, rubbing her back.
“I’m okay,” she sniffled, trying to pull herself together. “He needs the ambulance,” she added, pulling away, and angling her body away so that no one but me could see her wiping her face free of tears. “I almost killed him,” she said. “I would have killed him,” she added.
“You have a God-given right to use any force necessary to save yourself from a man who was going to rape, torture, and murder you,” Gawen said, giving her a nod for emphasis.
“It’s over,” she said, sucking in a deep breath that escaped with a strobe-like pattern. “He’s not going to ever do this again.”