Chapter 5
Clank, clank
The clinking of metal on metal made Gemma blink her eyes open. Her gaze immediately went to the clock on her nightstand, but the room was pitch black.
What the...?
Had there been a power outage?
No light streamed in through the window, and her body told her she couldn’t have been asleep for more than an hour.
A rustling sound made her dart her gaze in the direction of the door—although she couldn’t see a damn thing to indicate she was actually looking in the right direction.
Creak
Her skin puckered with goosebumps. Her heart rate pumped up a notch, and the sound was almost deafening in the quiet space. The air was charged with foreign energy. Someone was in her room. Had gotten through the lock. The power had to be out because no fluorescent light shined from the hall.
The moisture in her mouth evaporated faster than cotton candy on her tongue. Her gun was stowed in her bag, but that wouldn’t help her now. She lifted her hand to the nightstand and delicately brushed her fingers over the surface. She paused when she touched the smooth glass of her phone. Turning on the device would only draw attention to the fact that she was awake. She needed a weapon.
Her fingertips brushed the pencil.
She grabbed it in her fist and slowly shimmied out of the covers and to the floor. The door whooshed closed but didn’t slam. The intruder clearly wanted to be quiet.
Her rapid heartbeat whisked against her eardrums. Her flesh was numb. The skin on her knuckles stretched, but she wouldn’t loosen her grip on her weapon.
The scent of dust wafted from the carpet. Her knees pressed into the rough fibers beneath her. She had to make a move. She stretched her arm out to the side and rubbed the leg of the desk. If she didn’t find a way out of the traffic area, he’d trip right over her.
She scooted closer to the desk on her hands and knees. The swish of pant legs rubbing together reached her ears. A scream lodged in her throat. Yelling wouldn’t do a darn thing but alert the intruder.
Her legs burned with the desire to book it to the door. A breeze touched her cheek.
The person had walked right past her.
Oh god. Oh god.
A sharp whistle sounded.
Ice-cold terror froze her to the spot.
A silencer. He’d just fired at the bed.
Her chest expanded with an unspent scream. A flashlight clicked on and a glow lit the bed. Black-jean-clad legs stood in front of the white sheets, his back turned to her.
“Shit!”
The man threw back the covers.
The adrenaline firing through Gemma’s veins sent her surging from her hiding spot. She launched herself at his leg and slammed the pointed end of the pencil into his thigh. It sunk into thick flesh. She gave it a hard twist, and he buckled.
“Ah, fuck!”
His hand flew back, and the flashlight smacked her in the face. Pain exploded across her cheekbone. The device hit the floor and rolled under the bed. Gemma bolted to her feet. Her head spun, and she staggered back to the ground.
Crack!
Specks of drywall exploded near her head. She had to make a run for it.
Crack!
Another bullet fired quietly, but this time heat seared her thigh. She pushed herself to her knees and gasped. She had to get up, had to run before—
A hand snaked around her ankle and dragged her back. She screamed, and a fist slammed into her mouth. Her head bounced off the floor. Fire blazed through her face. The flashlight beneath the bed cast a dim yellow glow over her.
“Fucking bitch.”
She stared up at the man cloaked in shadows. A black ski mask covered his face. Only full pink lips and dark eyes were visible through the holes. He bent forward and clamped his hand around her throat. The tendons in her neck howled. He stood over top of her, his fingers squeezing the life from her.
Blood rushed to her face and her lungs floundered, desperate for a breath. He brought the gun to her temple and his lips worked into a smirk.
No! She couldn’t die like this.
Using all the energy she had left, she jabbed her fist into his manhood. The arm holding her throat gave out, and she twisted from his grip then lunged for him.
She slammed her closed fist into the pencil, still sticking out from his leg. He yelped and reached for the wound. She grabbed his arm and sank her teeth into his wrist. The gun clattered to the floor.
His fingers dove into her hair, and he dragged her to her knees. She thrashed and squirmed then kicked her foot into the gun’s long silencer, sending the weapon a few feet away.
He grabbed the front of her camisole top, just visible beneath her robe, and tore it. Cool air covered her skin and her breasts shook free.
A new blast of terror covered her body.
Crack!
The hiss of a silenced gun split the air. The man jerked, his head snapping back. Gemma’s chest rose and fell on a series of panicked breaths, but her attacker’s eyes widened.
Blood gushed from the front of his neck, and his hold on her loosened. She scrambled away. Her butt hit the floor and she scooted backward, not taking her eyes off him. He covered the wound, his gaze drifted to the air above Gemma’s head, and then he dropped like a stone.
Her body shook violently.
He’d been shot. Someone had—
A warm hand touched her back. She cried out and spun around, grasping her ripped shirt and falling robe. The flashlight was still on the floor, its yellow light shining on her.
Dallas squatted next to her. Deep, angry lines creased his face, but concern lit his hazel eyes. He rubbed his palm up and down her arm.
Her reserve broke. She threw herself against his chest and sucked in a breath. A sharp squeak escaped her lips. “Dallas?” The smell of cedar struck her, confirming his presence.
“Did he touch you?” Each word came out hard and pronounced.
She collapsed further against him. She wasn’t alone now. The rush of fear in her system slowed—still present but not crippling. The scent of his sweat touched her nostrils. Heady and masculine.
“Gemma. Tell me now before I lose it.”
She shook her head. “No. He just—he ripped my top.”
A stream of curse words came from his mouth. He caught her shoulders and pushed her back a few inches. Even with both of them on the floor he still towered over her. Dallas was a wall of protection she hadn’t realized she needed until now.
His gaze dipped to the drooping neckline of her shirt. A red stain tinted his face, and he jerked his attention to her eyes. “There’s two men downstairs. We need to hurry.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I’ll tell you later.”
She turned toward the man sprawled on the floor.
“He’s dead,” Dallas said, under his breath.
She nodded. It seemed to be the only action she was capable of. “Yeah, okay.”
The lights flickered on, blasting her retinas. She blinked and covered her eyes.
Through the speaker on the ceiling came a message in Spanish. Her brain couldn’t work fast enough to translate. Thankfully, it came again in English. “Ladies and gentlemen, we apologize for the brief power disturbance. Please remain in your rooms.”
She held her robe closed and stood. The pain in her right thigh radiated up and down her body, paralyzing her muscles. She gulped and wavered. Not now. She couldn’t pass out.
Dallas’s arm swooped around her waist. “You’ve been shot.”
“No shit,” she rasped, as he swept his other arm under her knees and carried her to the bed. Blood ran down her thigh, soaking her robe and pajama shorts.
Dallas disappeared into the bathroom and returned with a towel. “Let me see.” He jerked up his chin, indicating she move her hand.
“There’s no time,” she said, shaking her head wildly. The rest of the men could already be on their way up. They had to keep moving. She snatched the towel from his hand. “My bag’s in the closet.”
Frustration tightened his jaw, but it didn’t hide the worry in his eyes.
“I’m fine,” she said, wheezing. “Just grab it.”
He went to the closet and yanked out her bag that she’d stored at the hotel since she’d arrived in Cali. The muscles in his arms bulged near the short sleeves of his shirt. He went into the bathroom. Toiletries clanked.
He exited the bathroom and set the bag on the bed. “You can’t leave like that. Let me fix it so you’re not a walking target.”
He had a point. If by some stroke of luck they made it out of here, the blood rolling down her leg would cause a scene. She gave one curt nod.
He dropped beside her and took the towel from her white-knuckled fingers. “I don’t think the bullet’s in there, but we need to examine it.” He mopped up the blood, keeping one end of the towel pressed to the wound. “Hold this.”
She did as he asked and waited while he went to the bathroom again. He quickly returned with a hand towel. He positioned it under her then wiggled it between her legs, his knuckles brushing the inside of her thigh. An electric current shot to her loins. Goodness. How could she be turned on at a time like this?
“This might hurt.”
He cinched the material around the injury. She let out a howl and stomped her good foot. “God, Dallas!”
“Sorry.” He dug inside her bag and pulled out her loose-fitting jogging pants. He helped her to her feet and reached for her robe.
“I can do it.” She flicked away his hand with shaking fingers but couldn’t undo the knot. Somehow the fabric of her robe kept her breasts concealed.
He batted away her hand and undid the tie then swept off her robe. He took out a long-sleeved shirt and fitted it over her head and the ripped camisole top. Next, he grabbed her shorts and tugged them down her legs.
Heat flushed her skin. Finally, he helped her step into the joggers then pulled them up to her waist.
“There.” He slung her bag over his shoulder and placed his arm under her elbow. “Bear your weight on me.”
She nodded, all her gusto leaving her body with the force of a tide. She had to keep it together.
***
It took everythingin Dallas not to pick up Gemma, who was hobbling down the hallway at his side, but they didn’t need to draw attention to themselves.
It’d be bad enough tomorrow when housekeeping went to Gemma’s room and found a dead body. He punched the elevator button and a few minutes later, there was a ding.
Gemma sighed with relief. Inside the elevator, he hit the button for the main floor and the doors shut. The cart sped downward. He shifted his focus to her. Gemma’s gaze was fixed on the ground, her face as white as a sheet and her dark hair a tangled mess.
Quite frankly, she looked like shit.
Hot shit. But that was Gemma. Not much could steal her appeal.
He gave her arm a jiggle. “You okay?”
Her muscles tensed in his hold. “’Course.”
The elevator dinged again and the doors slid open. A quiet lobby met them. Keeping her tucked close to his side, Dallas scanned the large windows at the front of the building. They could exit via the side door, but he’d still need to lead her to his car and pass the guys in the SUV.
He pushed open the front door. The night air hit his face, warm and thick. The SUV was still idling about thirty feet away and a man stood on the sidewalk next to it pacing.
“Tell him to hurry up!” a man called from the driver’s seat out the passenger window.
“I’m going in. He’s not answering.”
Gemma quivered against his ribs. They stepped onto the road and crossed the street.
“That was them.”
“Yeah.” He ushered her around the front of the car and opened the door. She climbed into the passenger seat and he circled the hood.
The driver of the SUV locked eyes with him.
Rage pulsed against Dallas’s forehead. An urge to pull out his gun and shoot the cocksucker thrummed through him.
Instead, he climbed into the driver’s seat and pulled away from the curb. Gemma sat with her head pressed back against the seat. Her face was scrunched and her hand gripped the gunshot wound.
Shit.
He covered her knee with his palm. “Hang tight.”
A long, slow exhale pushed through her nose. “I’m fine,” she said, the declaration thin. “Where are we going?” She broke off on the last word and her body folded forward.
He flicked his gaze from the road to her hunched form. He could pull over, but there wasn’t much he could do inside the car. “I’ve got a room a few blocks away.”
“Tell me—” She groaned. “Tell me why you were at my hotel. You were gone.” Her free hand closed around his wrist, and she squeezed.
“I sat outside for a bit.” He cleared his throat. “I was talking on the phone to my associate and then my brother. As soon as I pulled out, I saw the SUV roll up and it didn’t seem right. Once I saw the guy with the gun, I had a feeling they were there for you.”
“Mmm.” She was squinting, and her lips were so pale they were almost white. “I’m glad you stayed.” Her voice shook, and unease pressed against his sternum.
He’d heard their scuffle from the hallway. But nothing could have prepared him for seeing the douchebag about to rape her.
The image would forever be imprinted in his mind.
One minute later and Gemma’s outcome could have been far different. She would have fought, though, and from the looks of what he’d walked into, she’d done a good job pissing the asshole off.
Amusement tickled his insides. “Was that a pencil I saw sticking out of his thigh?”
Gemma’s loose laugh broke the silence. “What can I say? I didn’t have my gun.”
“And you bit him too?”
She swiveled her head toward him. “How long did you watch before you stepped in?”
He snorted. As if he could’ve watched that show for a second longer than he had. “It transpired pretty quickly. I entered the room with my gun ready, but when I saw he’d dropped the weapon with the silencer, I went for that instead. Figured it’d buy us time to get out before we were asked any questions.”
“Fair enough.” Her head tilted toward her window and he gave her uninjured leg a shake.
“Hey.”
“I’m fine,” she mumbled again, her brow tented with annoyance.
If she said that one more time he’d snap. He caught her wrist and squeezed. “Damn it, Gemma. Stay awake.”
No response.
Ah, hell.
If he had to take her to a hospital, shit would get bad. His motel came into view and he steered into the parking spot. He hustled out of the car and ran to the passenger side.
As he opened the door, her slack frame and closed eyes delivered a savage punch to his solar plexus. He seized her, but she didn’t stir.
I can’t lose you now...