The Marine Finds His Family. Angel Smits

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      Besides, what kind of mother abandoned her son? Especially one who’d raised such a great kid. What was going on with her?

      DJ sat on the bike, leaning back against the leather seat, frowning. She didn’t make any sense. Tyler’s face came to mind. His faith in his mother was unshakable. Faith like that wasn’t automatic—it was earned. Tyler staunchly believed in her. Staring into the darkness, DJ once again wondered why.

      What were her reasons for leaving Tyler? And why wouldn’t she tell him? Did she expect to just disappear?

      Suddenly, he no longer heard her footsteps. “Oh, hell no,” DJ whispered and kicked the bike into gear. The low rumble broke the quiet night as he followed her.

      * * *

      TAMMIE HEADED BACK to the diner. Probably a stupid idea to walk alone in this part of town at this time of night, but once again she didn’t have much choice. Where else did she have to go? She’d turned her back on DJ and—her heart hitched—she’d just given up Tyler. Probably forever. A sob broke from her chest.

      The sound of footsteps from behind reached through the fog in her brain—and blessed anger cut through her pain. She spun around, ready to give DJ a piece of her mind. “Just leave me alone,” she snapped before she saw the shadowed face of a stranger.

      He was a big man wearing dark clothing and a smirk that didn’t say, “Have a nice day.” She stumbled as she backed away from him.

      “Well, hello there.” His deep growl of a voice made her shiver.

      She caught her balance and started walking faster, hoping that the threat she saw in his face wasn’t real. Wishing that all of this—this place, this situation, this mess of her life—would just go away. Then it occurred to her that the darkness in his eyes could mean exactly that.

      Still winded after running from DJ, Tammie doubted she could outrun this guy, but she had to try. And she almost made it.

      Until his meaty fist grabbed hold of her ponytail and yanked her backward. “Not so fast,” he said in her ear, then paused. “Tammie.”

      Panic shot through her. How did he know her name? She didn’t remember him coming into the diner. That’s the only place she met anyone and she’d have remembered him. There was only one other answer...

      He laughed, and she nearly gagged at the thick cologne he wore—cologne that barely covered the other odors cloaking him.

      “Who are you?” She pulled away from him, feeling hair rip from her head.

      “Let’s just say a friend sent me.”

      A friend. She knew who he was talking about, but Dom was no friend.

      “Go to hell.” She turned to run.

      “No need to be nasty. Let’s do this easy.” He lunged, catching her arm and sending her off balance. She fell and landed on her knees. Pavement ripped through her skin and tiny rocks tore into her palms.

      The snarl of a motorcycle cut through her cries and a new anger bubbled up inside her. She mentally cursed. She didn’t want to need anyone. She didn’t want a savior, but, damn it, right now she needed one. DJ would do.

      The roar grew louder. She looked up. DJ and his bike appeared out of the darkness. Bathed in the streetlight’s glow, he brought the bike up on the curb and raced toward them. Tammie screamed.

      DJ used the bike to chase the thug away from her, the tires spinning toward the man’s legs and driving him back. Knocking him into the street.

      This time, DJ kept control of the vehicle and righted it before it fell. He spun the bike around, the smell of burning rubber thick in the air. Revving the throttle, he faced the thug, silently daring him to try something. The look on DJ’s face made Tammie shudder—was this her DJ? The light in his eyes was not warm and soothing.

      It was frightening. He was frightening.

      She tore her gaze from DJ and realized her attacker had disappeared. In the distance, hurried footsteps receded into the night. Bowing her head, she took in deep gulps of air. Trying to keep the panic at bay, and think straight, she longed to figure out how to gain control of her life. But once again, nothing came to mind.

      Silence reigned as DJ shut down the engine. She didn’t hear his footsteps, didn’t hear anything except her heart pounding and her breath ripping through her lungs. She couldn’t do this anymore. She just couldn’t.

      She was done.

      “Tammie?” DJ’s voice actually sounded hesitant. She looked up. Where had his anger gone?

      Hers returned on an adrenaline rush. “Where the hell did you learn to do that?” She crawled to her feet, refusing the hand he offered. “And why would anyone in their right mind know how to do that?” She stalked toward him. “What if you’d lost control like you did before? You could have hit the wall, or wrecked, or...or...or...” She hiccuped as horrific images of DJ splattered on the pavement blared in her mind.

      DJ looked entirely too pleased with himself. He had the audacity to grin. “Hey.” He shrugged. “I grew up on a ranch. Cutting horses and bikes. Same difference.”

      “You idiot!” She went at him, poking his chest with an angry finger. “Is that what you were trying to do earlier? To me?”

      “Yeah.” He grinned. “Did it right this time, though.”

      Anger bubbled up inside her. How dare he! “Don’t you dare teach Tyler anything like that.”

      “A simple thank-you would do just fine.” He took a step back, his eyes moving, assessing her—and not with appreciation.

      She knew she looked awful. The ugly orange waitress uniform, her hair falling around her face from where the jerk had tried to pull it out of her head, blood trickling from her knees and smeared on her palms.

      “Stop following me.” It was all she could come up with. There was no way she was thanking him, despite the fact that she knew she should.

      “Oh, excuse me for trying to help.” He stalked over to her and grabbed her hands, turning them palm up and cursing. “Come on. Let’s get you taken care of.” He didn’t let go and they were nearly to the bike before she tried to pull away.

      “I already told you I am not getting on that thing.”

      “I don’t think you have a choice,” he mumbled, looking past her shoulder.

      She followed his gaze. The big shadow was back. And he wasn’t alone. Two other men walked beside him.

      DJ hopped onto the motorcycle and kicked it to life. “Get on.”

      “I—”

      She hated motorcycles. The idea of riding on one scared her half to death, but the shadowed figures scared her more.

      “Get. On,” DJ said again, this time through clenched teeth. “Now.” Footsteps pounded toward them. DJ had a point. She jumped on and DJ sped into the night.

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