Page 17 of Claimed in the Dark

Brady!

I had to save him.

I had to get him out of here and get us away from this intruder.

Once more, the man reached out for me.

He curled his arm around me, catching me and pulling me close to him as he used his muscled arm to both lock me flush to him and clamp his hand over my mouth again.

I didn’t have the time to suck in another breath for a scream. He moved too quickly. Raising his other arm as he wrenched me slightly back, he fired a gun.

I froze. The sound of the pft of air chilled me.

Another figure dropped at the other end of the living room. Near the couch.

What—

He spun, still blocking me with his body as he held me close and aimed his gun again. Moving seamlessly, with athletic grace, all confidence, he aimed the gun with the silencer at another man. This one ran at us, raising something in his hands. The kitchenette light showed the temporary glint of metal reflecting as he lifted a gun at us.

Pft. Pft.

Two more jerks of his arm in a kickback as he fired twice more.

The other man dropped, flinging back from the impact of the bullets hitting his head. He dropped lopsided on the couch.

I trembled, shaking and panting with shallow breaths as the man held his callused fingers and palm over my mouth.

“Don’t scream,” he warned.

A demanding, smoky rasp of authority.

He held me so close, pressed against every inch of his hard body. Every inch of those bulging muscles stayed tense. Primed. Like he would overpower me again if he had to.

Shaking and trying to breathe through the anxiety, I darted my gaze back and forth, panicked and terrified that another intruder would pop up and threaten to kill me in my home.

Brady.

Please.