Page 33 of It Takes a Thief
Hit and run? God.I assumed it was an accident. Am I being naive? Thinking back, the SUV did turn and barrel straight at us. Heart in my throat, I listen to the rest of Linc’s conversation.
Ryder utters a curse. “She’s okay?”
“A little scraped up, but, yeah, she’s okay.”
“Text me the location where it happened and I’ll pull any footage from nearby cameras. Hopefully, we can get a lead.”
“Thanks. Call me the second you find something.”
“Will do.”
They disconnect, and I clasp my hands together because they’re shaking. “You really think that was on purpose?”
The grim look on his face answers my question. “Yeah, sweetheart. I do.”
Chapter Twelve: Linc
Once we’re back up in Merritt’s penthouse, and I’ve checked it from top to bottom, I can breathe again. I’m a level-headed guy, and it takes a helluva lot to upset me, much less put me in a tailspin.
Merritt almost being run the fuck over? Seeing her beautiful face lit up in those headlight beams? Hearing the squeal of tires? That caused sheer panic to punch through my gut.
The damn SUV came barreling straight at her. Thank Christ, I was there and got her out of the vehicle’s deadly path in the nick of time.
Because that was no fucking accident. It was intentional, and I’m going to find the motherfucker who’s behind this. When I do, he’s going to pay in spades.
A dark anger erupts within me, spreading through my body. I glance over and see Merritt standing there looking lost, arms wrapped around herself. My attention zeroes in on her scraped elbow and upper arm, which only further ignites my fury.
“We need to clean your arm,” I say through gritted teeth. “C’mon.”
I lead her into the half bath and use some soap and water to gently clean the wounds. Luckily, they’re only surface scrapes, but it could’ve been so much worse. She’s quiet throughout my ministrations while I’m mentally contemplating how I’m going to find and then beat the ever-living shit out of whoever did this.
Once I’m finished, she lets out a shaky sigh.
“I don’t understand,” she whispers. “Why would someone want to hurt me?”
I don’t say it, but whoever this asshole is, he wants to do more than merely hurt her. After the calling card left in her pillow, and now an attempted hit and run, we’re dealing with someone who has murder on his mind.
“No one is going to hurt you,” I promise her. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Who’s going to take care of you?” she asks quietly.
Surprised by her words, I search her blue eyes. So innocent and full of concern. “What?”
No one has ever looked out for me. Not when I was growing up, and certainly not now. I’ve always taken care of myself. Fought tooth and nail for everything I have.
“That car almost hit you, too, Linc. If anything would’ve happened to you, I never would have forgiven myself.” Her voice drops. “I’ll help protect you, too.”
Her concern, so sweet and unexpected, blasts through my carefully-constructed walls like a TKO from the great Georges “Rush” St-Pierre. To have this slip of a girl bravely offer to protect me infuses my chest with a weird sort of warmth.
“We’ll protect each other,” I say, voice rough, and she nods.
Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I wring out the washcloth I was using and lay it on the edge of the sink.
“All done,” I say. “I don’t think there will be any scarring.”
“Thank you.”
“Welcome.”
