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Ray Acosta would not get his hands on her. If he’d escaped from jail, there was only one thing that would be on his mind.
Finding Aspen.
Declan knew how they worked. The feds would swoop in and take her, uncaring if she were injured or not. They just wanted her for their case. They didn’t really care about her. If they did, they would have known their man had gone rogue.
His breaths were coming faster, and the anger built up in him and exploded.
Letting loose a yell, he slammed his fist into the wall. Shouts filled the air.
She belonged to him.
He slammed his fist into the wall again, ignoring the pain.
Thick, muscular arms wrapped themselves around him, pulling him back from the wall. His fist pulsed with pain. He didn’t care. He’d rather take the pain of a broken hand than experience the pain of losing Aspen. If they took her, he would never see her again.
“Aspen!” he yelled.
Curses sounded as he was taken down to the floor. He fought them, swinging his fist. Satisfaction surged into him as it connected with something.
“Dec! Get ahold of yourself,” Mac’s familiar voice snapped in his ear.
A knee was pushed deeper into his back while his arms were clamped down by two bodies.
“I have to get to Aspen,” he gasped, unable to move beneath the massive weight pushing him to the floor.
“Not like this. Get your shit together,” Mac said. “She’s going to need you, but I swear to God, if you don’t get it together, I will have you locked up.”
The fight left Declan. He relaxed his body and rested his head on the floor. Mac was right.
He couldn’t lose his shit right now.
His woman needed him.
“Are you good?” Iker asked, his voice a level above a growl.
Declan blew out a deep breath and nodded. “I’m good.” He closed his eyes and allowed the images of their night at the safe house to fill his mind. He’d held her in his arms while she slept. Her face had been relaxed and utterly beautiful. He’d held her close the entire night, barely sleeping a wink.
He wanted that again.
To hold her in his arms and never let go.
Aspen breathedin deeply and immediately regretted it. Her lungs burned like fire, and her throat felt as if someone had sliced it with razor blades. Her body was overcome with coughing, but a piercing pain in her legs made her cry out.
“Oh God,” she whispered, opening her eyes.
A bright light blinded her. She raised her hand to shield her eyes to allow them to adjust. She glanced around at her surroundings and found herself in a hospital room. A standard hospital gown covered her body. She was tucked away in a bed with rails up the sides. She moved her body as much as she could, wincing from pain. “Declan?”
Her heart raced with the thought of being alone. She swallowed hard and winced from the pain. She licked her parched lips, finding them dry and chapped.
She took in the room. Curtains lined it. The walls were glass, but the curtains provided privacy for her. A man sat with his back to the her outside the door.
He must be a guard.
But where was Declan?
The sounds of beeping had her turning and looking at the monitor that displayed her vitals. Memories of running from the building and the feel of the bullets slamming into her back crowded into her mind. She could still feel the white-hot burning sensation in her leg.
Oh God. She’d been shot!
