Page 114 of Ugly Beautiful Scars

The vehicle goes into a spin and two oncoming cars have to swerve around it. The other cars stop, pinning the SUV in place long enough for me to screech to a halt beside it. I reach through the driver's side window to unlock the doors, then pop Miller's door open.

I'm about to grab Miller to pull him out of the SUV so I can finish this, but he goes on the defensive. He shoves Londyn out first. Her hands and feet are bound, so I instinctively lunge forward so her head doesn't crack on the asphalt.

I get my arms around her and we go down together. She lands hard on her shoulder and gets the wind knocked out of her, but I manage to get my hand under her head just in time to provide a cushion. The ground scrapes my knuckles down to bone, but at least it wasn't her skull.

Pain radiates up my back from the twisted way I landed, but the adrenaline dulls the edges as I reach for the gun I dropped. I'm not fast enough. The SUV peels away, clipping the front of a stopped car before leaving a trail of sparks. There are too many onlookers in the way for me to try to blow out a second tire.

That bastard is escaping and I can't do a damn thing about it.

"Sean," Londyn whispers, trying to roll into a sitting position.

"Hey, stay there," I tell her, mentally aborting my mission to chase down Alan Miller so I can focus on what's most important: Londyn. "Where does it hurt, honey?"

"Arm. Head," she bites out.

"Anywhere in your spine or legs?"

"No. I can move."

"Okay. I'm going to lift you."

My back is screaming at me, and my right arm and hand sting and throb as I gather her up off the street and carry her to a bench on the sidewalk. She groans as I lay her down.

"My head," she groans. "It's all fuzzy."

I touch her hair and forehead gently, finding several bumps but no blood. As I pull out my pocket knife to cut the ties bindingher, I say, "We'll get you checked out. Mike will be here soon." The adrenaline is wearing off and my hands are starting to shake.

I almost lost her.

I'm desperate to wrap her in my arms and never let go, but she's just been through something. She could be in decompression mode and need some space. I can't just—

"Sean." Her voice trembles around the word as her hands reach out to me. She must see something in my expression, some need for reassurance, because she says, "Green. Please. I need you."

I pull her into an embrace, careful not to squeeze too hard. My entire soul relaxes having her close. Safe.

She buries her face in my neck and sobs. "Thank you. You came for me. Thank you." Her voice cracks. "You found me."

I try to engulf her fully in my arms, wanting to shield her from a world that keeps trying to hurt her. Like I can erase the last half hour from existence. "I'll always come for you."

Her fingers curl into my shirt, holding onto me like I might disappear. "I knew you would. I knew."

I pull back enough to cradle her face and gaze into her with everything I have. "That man is never touching you again. I swear it."

She nods. "I know. I know you'll keep me safe."

For the first time, I'm free of doubts about myself, doubts I've let plague me for too long. I know I've screwed up in the past. I've made the wrong decision. I let professional boundaries blur so much I lost focus.

But now, every doubt is replaced by something I know deep in every muscle and vein and atom of my being: I love this woman. She is my purpose and where I belong, and nothing is ever going to threaten that again.

As I press my lips gently to hers, feeling a completeness I thought I'd never find, I sense someone approaching.

I glance up to find Mike gazing down at us with a lot of worry and regret. "What do you need me to do?" he asks.

When I reluctantly release Londyn, her body starts trembling from the shock of the kidnapping. My back aches as I straighten. I hold out my palm to Mike. "Keys to your car." He drops them in my hand and I motion at my motorcycle. "I'll take Londyn to the hospital. Can you take my bike? And deal with the police." As if on cue, there are sirens in the distance because a bystander must've called this in.

Mike jets his chin to a red sedan parked along the curb, then starts walking toward my bike, which is laying on the ground and still rumbling.

My back curses a protest at me, but I gather Londyn in my arms again and carry her to Mike's vehicle. Once we're both situated in the car and I start the engine, Londyn reaches across the center console to touch my wrist. She glances at my shredded knuckles and the patches of white bone.

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