In a low crouch, he shoved Mia’s shapely naked ass ahead of him across the linoleum floor, then pressed her against the solid barricade of the center island, his body forming a shield.
No more shots. For now.
Mia stared at him blankly as he scanned her face, her naked breasts, her satiny belly, and the dark fluff between her legs for injury. Her cheeks were drained of color, her eyes all pupil. Glass sparkled like diamonds in the messy strands of her dark hair. Several tiny cuts on her throat leaked bright red blood, but other than that, she appeared unharmed.
“Are you hit?” He kept his voice low and calm as he ran both hands up her back, over her arms, then finger-combed her hair, dislodging glass, which pinged like hail as it hit the floor. “Mia? Are you hit?” A calm came over him and he went into work mode. Cool. Focused. All his senses wide-open to receive data.
“My heart’s manic, but I think I’m okay. We should call Detective Hammell. What’s a hunter doing way out h— Oh, my God! The hit man found me!”
The hit man had found her a week ago.
They’d hired another one. One who’d get the job done, no questions asked.
Fuck.
This time they’d sent a sniper.
Who?
Several options. Cruz knew what he’d been paid. If it was anyone comparable, they wouldn’t miss next time.
He had to make sure there wasn’t a next time.
She sucked in a breath as if in pain, but no cry escaped her lips. Instead, she ran searching hands over his chest in return. “Are you hurt?”
“No. I’m fine.” His shorts were still around his ankles. He contorted his body to yank them up. “Go upstairs, get the Beretta, and stay hidden until I come for you.”
“What?” She blinked him into focus, eyes suddenly sharp as she grabbed his wrist in a life-or-death grip. “No! Where are you going?”
His SIG was in the drawer right above his head, and he was already opening it to fumble around inside. “Outside to put an end to this.” He checked the clip and took off the safety.
“You don’t have shoes on,” she observed, sounding shell-shocked but also pissed off as she crouched there, naked and vulnerable.
Her vulnerability scared the crap out of Cruz. He pushed the fear aside. It wouldn’t do her any good. Someone was out there. Someone who’d probably watched them having sex while he took aim. Someone who’d come to do the job he hadn’t completed. Someone who wasn’t going to be swayed by beguiling blue eyes and perfect tits. Someone who was already executing his backup plan.
Cruz tamped down his fury into a nice, neat, manageable ball of cold rage. Colors became brighter. Sounds crystal clear.
Time to go hunting.
“Listen up. Get your ass upstairs. Stay away from windows, keep the lights off. Get the Beretta and hide in the closet. Shoot the first person who comes through the door. No matter who the fuck it is.”
“The first person who comes through the door better damn well be you. Put shoes on, for God’s sake, and be careful.” Her fingers tightened on his wrist. “I love you,” she told him thickly. “I’ve never in my life said that to another man other than Todd. Come back in one piece, or I’ll kill you myself.”
Heard. Computed.
“Don’t even think about coming outside, hear me?” Not waiting for a response, he put a hand on her shoulder, needing—wanting—more. He was already fucked. It was no longer just about sex. That entanglement was bad enough. What disarmed him was the unexpected emotional connection that somehow had been forged between them. No time to think about that now. If ever. He didn’t know who waited outside for him. “When I turn off the light, move your ass. Low and fast.”
Slithering across the floor, he used the jamb to shield his body as he reached up to flip the switch. The kitchen was plunged into moonlit darkness. Not dark enough. Cold moonlight shone through the broken window. He gave her a shove on the ass. “Go. Go. Go!”
She went. He listened to the soft thump of her feet taking the stairs, then raced down the hall when he heard her footfalls over his head as she ran into the bedroom. His work boots were on the porch. Not that he would’ve cared if he had to go out there barefoot. But he didn’t have to.
Closing the back door behind him, he waited for the click of the lock. The door was flimsy as hell. Not the original solid oak. One good kick and the lock would break. Hurriedly he shoved his feet into his boots, allowing his eyes to adjust to the speckled moonlight. Scrub grass. Shadows, the glint of water. The smell of swamp and greenery accompanied by the roar of the gator.
• • •
Even though she listened for the slightest sound from outside, Mia jerked in response to the muffled crack of a gunshot in the distance. Her heart leaped into her throat, then started to feel as if it were skittering frantically inside her chest.