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“Thank you.”
The man bucked underneath him. Miles applied more pressure with his knee and yanked the wrist hard, millimeters away from breaking it. The man yelped and cursed more foul than ever in response. “This isn’t worth it. Ryken can go to?—”
Miles put his free hand on the man’s head and leaned on it, instantly silencing him. “There now. No need to go cussing around the lady.”
Eva barked out a laugh, then held her head with a groan. He loved her barking laugh. It was as genuine as she was. He’d heard that laugh on a couple of interviews and one of the movies she’d been in.
“The rope,” she said. “I shall return, brave soldier.”
Miles laughed at that, more drawn to her than ever. She was the brave one. There were scratches on her arms and a future bruise on her face and she was complimenting him and running to get a rope like she was one of his men, working together like teammates, not a famous actress.
She hurried through the patio and into the rear door of the house.
Miles was left alone with the brute. He released the man’s head. “Can you control that flapping jaw or do you want me to break your arm?”
“I’ll be good,” he croaked.
“Good. Now, who is Ryken?” he asked. The police could query the man, but Miles would love to get some inside information that could help the innocent and beautiful actress stay safe. Maybe she would need Aiden Porter’s assistance. Miles could take her back to the house, get to know her, help out for the next four days until he had to get back to base on Tuesday.
“Nobody,” the man spit back.
“All right. The arm broken then?” Miles increased the pressure. He wouldn’t really do it, but this guy didn’t know that.
“You can’t,” the man squealed. “I got rights.”
“I’m not a cop. Just a friendly neighbor who doesn’t mind using your fragile little bones to find out the information I need to protect this nice lady.”
Eva hurried back out the patio door with a coiled rope.
“Ryken is who paid me,” the man screamed.
“Ryken?” Eva repeated. “Not Jorge?”
“Who’s Jorge?” the perp asked. Miles wondered the same thing. Did she have a stalker?
Miles released some of the intense pressure on the guy’s arm. “What did he pay you to do?”
“Just scare her.”
“You are a liar and a brute,” Eva said, handing the rope to Miles. “You tried to suffocate me.”
“I would’ve stopped when you passed out.”
Miles glanced up at Eva. Her face said she didn’t believe the guy. He didn’t know if he did either. Just scare her? That was risky, and dumb. Eva would have cameras and a security system. He wasn’t wearing a mask or gloves. He’d definitely be apprehended and prosecuted for attacking her.
“We’ll chat more in a second,” Miles said.
Then he went to work, roping the guy like he would a five-hundred-pound steer. The man squealed and protested and squirmed, but he was no match for Miles. He’d never roped professionally like Walker, but he could hold his own.
Finished, he stood and turned to Eva. Her eyes were wide. She looked from him down to her attacker and back up. “You trussed him up like roping a steer,” she said, her admiration evident. “Faster than Cole Patterson.”
It was a conscious effort not to puff out his chest. Cole Patterson was a legend. “I did the rodeo circuit in high school.”
“Where are you from?” she asked.
“Montana.”
“Back up the bus! I’m from Wyoming.”
