Mine to Keep (NOLA Knights #3) - Rhenna Morgan Page 0,37
eager for the feel of the hard steel sliding home once more.
Movement sounded behind him. Scuffles at first followed by heavy footfalls moving away fast.
Not the man on the ground.
Bonnie.
The beast inside him roared, the coppery bite of blood whetting his need for vengeance.
But he couldn’t let her run. Couldn’t risk failing her again if others watched and waited for a chance to lay hands on her.
He let the man fall to a heap on the asphalt and raced after her, his strides eating up the distance between them in no time.
“Bonnie!” He caught her half a block away and pulled her against him.
She fought him, flailing and kicking for all she was worth.
He spun her to face him. “Bonnie. It’s Roman.”
Her movements ceased on a ragged sob. For long seconds, she stared up at him as if unable to focus, tears streaming down her cheeks. She clutched his shoulders and squeezed. When she spoke, her voice was little more than a rasp. “Roman.”
As soon as she said it, her knees buckled.
He caught her and pulled her against him, the tremors that rattled her body so powerful they reverberated through his own.
A car door slammed in the distance and an engine roared to life.
The corner where he’d left his prey lay empty.
Not good. Especially with both of them exposed on the street without a weapon.
He hefted Bonnie into his arms and ducked into the shadows of the boarded-up building beside them just as a silver sedan spun out of the parking lot and gunned down the street, weaving unsteadily from one side to the other.
TIF-183.
Louisiana plates.
A recent model Chevy sedan.
A lead. Finally. Albeit one earned at a high cost.
In his arms, Bonnie wept, her head heavy against his shoulders and her gut-wrenching tears dampening his T-shirt. For all the bravado and moxy she’d shown in the time he’d known her, she was utterly gutted now. Stripped of the last of her defenses by one too many hurdles.
Odd, how content he was to remain hidden with her in the shadows. To keep her cradled close. To keep the world at bay for just a moment longer and surround her with his strength—even if that infernal backpack she carried with her everywhere made the task that much more difficult.
He rubbed his cheek against the top of her head, the deep auburn strands that so matched her bold personality like silk against his skin. More than anything, he wanted to press his mouth to her forehead. To nuzzle her temple and whisper sweet words designed to still her tears.
But he was a killer. One short on pretty words and vulnerable in a tenuous situation with an innocent in tow. He inhaled deep, the light flowery scent that clung to her skin filling his lungs and testing his resolve. “Breathe, malen’kaya koroleva. You are safe, but I need to get us out of here.”
Her sobs hitched and her arms tightened around his neck, as though just the thought of moving from the shelter he’d created rattled her very soul. “I can’t. I just—”
“You can. You will.” Even uttering the words knifed his conscience. But he knew the streets. Knew that whomever had come for her tonight wouldn’t be long in returning. Especially given the wounds he’d inflicted on the men who’d gotten away. “Once you’re secured, I will give you all the time you need, but for now, you must be strong a little longer.”
She hiccupped on a deep breath and rolled her head so her forehead pressed against his collarbone. With a few more sniffles behind her, she loosened her arms and lifted her head enough to nod. “Okay. I’m good. You can put me down.”
She wasn’t good.
More like dancing perilously close to the edge of an emotional chasm.
But he refused to let her fall. A week ago, she might not have had anyone to keep her tethered, but now she had him. His family and their resources. He’d mentored many people over the years. Helped them find their purpose the way Sergei had guided him all those years ago. Granted, he’d only focused on boys in foster homes or orphanages thus far, but he could do the same with Bonnie.
Starting now.
He eased her to her feet and held her by her waist. “Steady?”
“Yeah.” Despite the positive response, she kept her gaze trained downward.
He tipped her face to his with two fingers beneath her chin, needing the visual confirmation as much as her words.
Fatigue, hopelessness and surrender stared back at him, the harsh