Page 68 of Imperfect Saint
Millie never would have left the door ajar. Even if she thought she was safe up here in her tower, she shut her door and always locked it behind her. He knew because he’d insisted on it, insisted that she take care of herself when he wasn’t around to keep her safe himself. She’d kissed him so sweetly after that talk and sworn she would always keep it locked. There was no way she would have left it open now even if she knew he was on his way over.
Something thumped hard in the apartment and a cry of pain echoed out to him in the hallway. In the blink of an eye he was moving. Maybe Vaughn had been right all those weeks ago, maybe Hunter did lead with his heart sometimes. But right now his heart was inside that apartment and he wasn’t standing outside even a second longer trying to figure out how to approach the situation when she could be in there, hurt, and needing his help.
On instinct he reached for the gun he kept on his hip while he was on duty and cursed when he came up empty. It was locked up tight in his car. He never took it inside Millie’s apartment because he knew she wasn’t completely comfortable with the weapon.
It didn’t matter. He didn’t need a weapon. When it came to protecting Millie he would fight with his hands and feet and teeth if need be.
Hunter pushed through the door and was instantly overcome by the smell of something burning. He made a quick turn into the kitchen and gaped at the mess he found. Water and noodles covered the floor. The stovetop burned bright red from the heat where it was still on. Something in a back burner was smoking and though the fan hummed furiously trying to dissipate it the smoke was rolling up to the ceiling causing the smoke alarm to beep in warning.
Movement out of the corner of his eye had him spinning towards the living room and when he did he stopped short. What he saw sent cold, dangerous fear sliding down his spine. It was Millie but, she didn’t look like his Millie in that moment and nothing confirmed that more than the gun she was holding in her hand, the gun that was pointed at the man lying on the floor, crying in agony, glass glittering as it protruded from somewhere that must be dangerously close to his kidneys.
Hunter didn’t spare the man on the floor even a moment’s care. He knew who it was without looking. There was only one bastard in the world that would dare to harm Hunter’s sweet, sensitive Millie. And that bastard deserved to die but God help him, Hunter couldn’t let it be by Millie’s hand or she would never forgive herself.
Whatever had happened here, however that asshole had gotten in this apartment and whether he’d landed on that piece of glass by accident or not, one thing was clear, he’d come here to hurt Millie and instead she was the one standing while Joshua Bell was on the ground.
Hunter wanted to smile. He wanted to cry. He wanted to rush to her and hug her and tell her that it was okay, that she’d won and that everything would be fine. But he knew better than to do any of those things when there was a hurt, bleeding, and emotionally traumatized woman holding a gun.
“Millie.” He spoke her name softly and when she didn’t so much as twitch he spoke a little louder, “Millie? Baby? Look at me. Look at me, Mills. Come on, babe. Look at me.”
He wasn’t sure how long he spoke to her, gradually raising his voice, never daring to shout for fear of startling her and having that gun accidentally discharged or even pointed at him. He just kept his voice soft as he tried to bring her back to reality. He darted a few glances down to see that the bastard on the floor was still flailing and cursing and he told him to shut up but it didn’t seem as though Joshua Bell heard him either. He started to worry he’d walked in too late, that this was some sort of nightmare and he wasn’t going to be able to wake any of them up from it when finally, finally, he saw Millie sway slightly on her feet.
“Millie.” He said her name sternly, a demand that she turn and look at him and to his utter amazement, she did.
Her gaze flickered over to him and her lashes fluttered. Her brows knit together as she looked at him, as if she couldn’t figure out what he was doing there. She blinked again and the hands she had wrapped so tightly around that gun dropped a couple of inches, giving him hope that she was coming out of the fog of her struggle to survive and whatever else her wounds had caused.
God, her wounds.
Hunter forced himself not to focus on all the blood and instead kept his eyes on hers, “Millie, baby. It’s me. Baby, it’s me. I’m here, it’s okay. You’re okay. Come here. Come to me.”
A tremor went through her and he saw her bottom lip quiver a moment before she gulped in a giant gasp of air and then sobbed his name out loud. She lowered the gun to her side and he swept forward to grab her when she made no move to come to him like he’d asked. His boots crunched in the broken glass and he carefully pulled Millie off her bare feet, lifting her into his arms and carrying her out of the wreckage of her living room.
He placed her on top of the island in the kitchen after hugging her as tightly as he dared and then he went to work. He took the gun from her loosened grip and checked it. Loaded and with the safety off, it was a damn miracle it hadn’t discharged already. He unloaded it quickly with deft precision and then set aside the pieces for the cops to take a look at when he realized it wasn’t the weapon he’d gone with Millie to purchase.
Hunter shot a glance back towards the living room, following Millie’s gaze, and he frowned. The man on the floor had gone still. The pool of blood surrounding him was beginning to look dangerous. He scowled but told Millie not to move, which he didn’t figure was a problem considering she was in shock, and then he crossed back over to check the bastard’s pulse.
It was faint, but it was still there. He’d passed out. That was all.
Hunter wanted to kick him. He wanted to take a piece of glass and slice his throat open. He wanted to kill Joshua Bell for ever having laid a finger on Millie, but he couldn’t let the asshole die. Not like this. Not if it meant that Millie would spend even a second regretting whatever actions she’d taken to defend herself.
Instead of kicking that piece of glass straight through the other side of the bastard’s chest, Hunter pulled his cell phone out and dialed the first number in his phone. As it rang, he moved through the apartment, turning off the stove, moving the burned food and disconnecting the fire alarm so that it would stop blaring. He told Vaughn everything that he knew so far and his brother promised to get there as soon as he could to evaluate the situation. After Vaughn hung up, Hunter did the only reasonable thing and called 911. With the responsible actions taken, he finally let himself return to Millie, who still sat ghostly pale on the counter, unmoving and barely breathing.
“Mills?” He said her name before he touched her but she still jumped, blinking at him as though he’d surprised her. “Baby, it’s me. I’m here. I’m here now. It’s okay. Everything is going to be okay.”
“Hunter?” She spoke his name, her voice barely a whisper, as if this was the first time she’d noticed he was here.
“Yeah baby. I’m here.”
“Hunter.” She said again but this time his name pinched into a sob and she fell forward against his chest, crying as he wrapped her protectively in his arms and held her. He rubbed her back soothingly. He promised her that she was safe. But it took precious minutes before she stopped shaking enough for him to risk pulling back from her.
She looked half dead and it scared the hell out of him. Her face was pale. Her eyes were bloodshot. She had a huge gash along her temple that ran up into her hairline and the blood had spilled down one side of her face, matted in her dark hair, and stained her clothes. She had other smaller cuts along her arms and legs and he could only assume those were from the entertainment center that lay in shards all over the living room. It was the cut on her hand that worried him most. It was a deep cut, lacerated straight through flesh and tissue and muscle, a straight line that he knew without a second thought would match the blood covering the piece of glass sticking out of that bastard’s back.
He glanced up, tears in his eyes, “Millie?”
“I stopped him.” She whispered, her bottom lip trembling again. “He was going to kill me this time but I stopped him.”
“You did. You did.” He nodded, pressing kisses against her mouth, her cheek, her forehead, anywhere he could safely touch her without causing pain, trying to reassure them both that she was alive and okay and in one piece. “You stopped him, baby. You did good, you did so good. I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I should have been here.”
“Shhh.” She leaned forward and put her head on his chest and he choked out a half sob, barely holding back the tears when he realized she was trying to comfort him.
