Mine to Keep (NOLA Knights #3) - Rhenna Morgan Page 0,36

streak he seemed to have developed and only worsened his mood. “She is not for you to appreciate. She is for you to protect. Do I make myself clear?”

“Umm. Yeah.” A pause. “Sorry. I didn’t mean any disrespect.”

The reasonable part of him knew that. But reason hadn’t been the foremost driver when it came to Bonnie. Curiosity, yes. Appreciation and challenge, definitely. But common sense hadn’t factored since she’d called him bossy to his face.

She strode into view, her head down, backpack firmly stowed on her shoulders and hands jammed in the pockets of her jean jacket. A distracted pose he’d never seen on her before. Especially, not this late at night. Either she was deep in her thoughts, exhausted from another double shift, or both. Neither was wise for a woman like her walking home this late at night. “You know your assignment. Be ready for her in the morning.”

He ended the call without another word, and the silence in the truck’s interior swelled. What was the kinder path? To let time provide the answers? Or face her tonight and state the facts clearly? Were she anyone else, he’d undoubtedly choose the latter, but the mere thought of hurting her more than she’d already suffered was untenable.

She rounded the corner of her apartment building, headed toward her unit.

Odd. She didn’t normally leave her light on, but a pale light glowed behind the closed blinds.

A prickling awareness whispered across his shoulders and down his arms, and the muscles in his torso tensed. It could have been an oversight by the maintenance crew he’d coerced the landlord to send over. Or a subtle message from the landlord himself that all the repairs and improvements Roman had demanded had been seen to.

She stopped in front of the door, keys in hand.

Movement from the parking lot registered in his periphery, the reflection of the streetlight flashing against the glass of a car door opening.

Not right.

Too coincidental.

He quietly exited the truck and rounded the tailgate, volleying his attention between the parking lot and Bonnie.

She opened the door.

A shadow moved behind the blinds and Bonnie’s sharp scream cut through the night.

Fuck.

He moved on pure instinct, his boot heels pounding against the asphalt. Quick steps registered on his right, but the more prevalent threat was directly in front of him—a thin male wearing jeans and a dark hoodie chasing Bonnie out into the street.

Her eyes widened at the sight of him, shock and confusion at first, followed hard by relief. Her pursuer noted his presence one heartbeat too late. In three swift moves, Roman had him on the ground, his knee obliterated and his arm torqued behind his back. “Who do you work for?”

Bonnie yelped behind him and a masculine voice shouted, “Let him go.”

The man from the parking lot.

A lookout for whatever job they’d been about.

And now he had Bonnie braced in front of him as a shield with a knife held to her neck.

A chilling cold swept through him, a flash of light against the blade drawing all his focus to where the edge pressed against her pale skin.

Bonnie rolled high on her tiptoes, instinct pushing her to gain distance from the threat. She stared at him. Her breaths huffed out short and ragged. “Roman.”

No more than a whisper, but the plea behind it was implicit. The terror and desperation behind her eyes reaching to the coldest depths inside him.

The man staggered beneath her shifting weight, the bulk of Bonnie’s backpack between them making his hold more difficult to maintain. Despite his bold actions, uncertainty and inexperience were written in every line of his expression.

“Oh, I will let him go.” Roman quickly checked the man beneath him for concealed weapons, then released him, stood and squared his shoulders. “But you will die.”

Roman stalked toward him, slow and deliberate.

Her captor’s hand quivered.

Bonnie whimpered and blood blossomed at the edge of the blade. She tugged the man’s forearm, trying desperately to get away, but her eyes stayed locked on Roman.

“She bleeds,” Roman said, not stopping. “For that, your death will be slow.”

The man panicked, shoved Bonnie to one side and bolted.

But Roman was faster. Fueled with fury and focused on his prey. Ready and willing to render punishment.

One grab. One twist of the wrist and the blade was in Roman’s hand. He rammed it deep. A strike to the kidney.

The man jerked inside Roman’s unyielding hold and his pain-filled cry rang out into the night.

“That is for touching her,” Roman growled. He yanked the blade free,