Page 83 of Serve ’N’ Protect

Cassidy pushed from the wall, using the momentum to get her legs going toward the door. Feet—and legs—please, please don’t fail me now.

With her muscles being far stronger than they used to be, she made it to the door all right, but just when she reached for the handle a large hand clamped around her upper arm, yanking her backward.

He hauled her against his Sherman tank–like body, partially knocking the air from her lungs. She curled the fingers of her free hand into a fist then rammed it into his gut.

He loosened his grip on her arm but didn’t release her. “You little bitch.” His fingers dug deeper, painfully, into her flesh, eliciting a very unladylike curse.

No way was she letting this sonofabitch take her down without a fight. “Let. Me. Go.” Using every bit of her newfound strength, she planted one foot behind her then drove her knee up as hard as she could, smashing right into the family jewels.

“Fuck!”

Score! Direct hit.

He released her arms, hunching over so quickly his chin whacked against the top of her head, and she flinched.

Taking full advantage of what she fervently hoped would turn into a royal case of black and blue balls, she spun back to the door. This time, she did get her fingers around the handle, only to have them torn away as he encircled her waist with his beefy arms and threw her face-first to the floor. Her head slammed against the hardwood planking and she cried out. She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the pain to diminish and her vision to stop flashing with tiny white lights.

Still on the floor, she turned, bracing her arms. Instantly, her palms began to sweat, and the direness of her situation slammed home.

Unlike the burglar, this man wore no mask. He’d made no attempt whatsoever to hide his face. He didn’t care if she saw him, which could only mean—

Terror lurched in her gut as he reached under his jacket. Something glittered in his hand. A gun. Not Markus’s. This one was silver with an elongated tube attached to the end of the barrel. A silencer.

He’s going to kill me.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Markus hefted the box into the back of his SUV, disrupting Ghost, who’d been snoozing happily while he’d been inside the store. Flowers weren’t enough, and he’d already gone that route. Considering what had happened between them, jewelry was too presumptuous.

He patted the top of the box and grinned. As grand gestures and peace offerings went, this was unusual but perfect. It wouldn’t mean squat to just anyone, but to Cassidy it would mean the world and that was his intention. She’d know it came from the heart. His heart, which was exactly what he wanted to offer her. If it wasn’t too late. If it was, he’d spend his last breath convincing her it wasn’t.

Ghost inspected the box excitedly, his thick white tail dancing in the air and his nostrils flaring as he sniffed all four sides and the top.

Markus pointed to his dog. “Not for you.”

Ghost uttered a discontented whine then lay back down with his snout between his paws.

As he closed the tailgate, the difficulty level of this mission seemed to jump a few levels into the danger zone. Compared to what he was about to do, protecting the President was a cake walk.

He drove back onto the highway, his thoughts going in another grim direction. It had taken the one person who’d let him down and hurt him most in the world to die for Markus to learn the most important lesson he would ever learn: Life was too short to give up the best thing that had ever happened to him. If this ended in disaster, at least he’d go down knowing he’d tried.

Ten minutes outside Leonardtown, his phone rang with a number he didn’t recognize. “York,” he answered.

“Markus, this is Ian Morgan.”

Even if Cassidy’s father hadn’t given his name, he would have recognized the man’s Irish brogue anywhere. Cassidy must have told him what a jackass he’d been, and Ian was calling to chew his ass out.

“What can I do for you?” he asked, tightening his fingers around the steering wheel as he braced for the verbal impact.

“I’m calling for two reasons.” The sound of someone yelling for a pound of masonry nails told Markus that Ian must be at the hardware store. “First, Cassidy wouldn’t discuss the details of why you’re not together anymore. The fact that she won’t tells me how much she still cares about you and from what I witnessed on Christmas, I was under the impression that you felt the same way. Was I mistaken?”

“No, sir.” He flipped on his turn signal to take the Leonardtown exit. “In fact, I’m on my way to her house to rectify the situation.” He hoped, anyway.

“Good. She’s better with you. Smiling. Happy. We all see it. But she’s not at her house,” Ian added. “She’s been staying with us for the last week.”

“Why?” Markus pulled off the road and parked in the gas station. Warning bells began clamoring in his head. Cassidy loved her family to death but had made it clear how much she cherished her space. If she was staying with her folks, something was wrong.

“That’s the second reason I’m calling.” Ian’s deep intake of breath came through over the phone, making those warning bells in Markus’s head ring louder. “For her safety,” Ian said. “Yesterday, she was nearly killed.”