Celtic Bride. Margo Maguire

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СКАЧАТЬ hands up in surrender, showing he meant her no harm, she was cowering away from him, scrambling to sit up. He reached out one hand to help her and she scooted away on her bottom, until her back hit the wall of the loading dock.

      “Get away from me!” she rasped, her voice tight with fear.

      Could be an instinctive reaction to finding a man kneeling over her after fighting off that coward who’d assaulted her. Could be she’d just got a good look at his harsh, beat-up face.

      The reaction in those suspicious gray-blue eyes was enough to sour any attraction he might feel.

      “I’m not going to hurt you.”

      But she wasn’t buying it. No way. She pushed her hair out of her eyes to really size him up. If anything, the woman breathed harder, went even paler as she calculated his strength and the size of his fists. She was probably wondering how he’d gotten the scars and if he was as violent a man as he looked.

      He knew the military cut of his prematurely gray hair didn’t leave any handsome possibilities to the imagination. The face and bulk and no-nonsense demeanor created an intimidating combination that made his job as a bouncer/bartender an easy gig. They got the job done, too, when it came to keeping his friends few and strangers who asked questions he didn’t want to answer even fewer. The ugly mug was who he was. It had probably served him well in his former life—kept people from messin’ with him.

      Although it played hell when he was trying to convince a frightened woman he meant her no harm. “I’m not the man who hurt you.”

      She surprised him completely when she jerked her head in a nod. “I know. You’re bigger than he is. He was dressed in black from head to toe. You...startled me. That’s all.”

      Startled was putting it kindly. But at least she was thinking rationally. Probably no injury to the head, then. Cautiously, Jake pushed to his feet. Big mistake. Now he was towering over her. She visibly cringed. But six feet two inches of muscle, scars and a broken face wasn’t something he could change. He held his arms out to either side and kicked the ball bat over to her, giving her the option of arming herself against him if it made her feel safer.

      Not that he still couldn’t overpower her if he had to.

      She knew it, too. Smart woman. With a determined tilt to her chin, she braced her hands on the wall behind her and staggered to her feet, ignoring the bat. “Please. I have a child. I need to get to her.”

      Jake shook his head. They were alone in this alley now. “I didn’t see any kid.”

      “You didn’t...? Emma?” She straightened against the concrete wall and looked beyond the van. “She’s over there. He pulled me from my car.”

      Jake glanced behind him. Ah, hell. That explained the wailing he’d heard. It was the kid, crying, not a cat. “Is that your car?”

      She nodded. “I need to get...” She took two steps before her right leg buckled and she fell back against the loading dock.

      Jake darted forward, catching her by the arms to help her stay on her feet.

      “Don’t touch me.” She instinctively reached out to push him away. But just as quickly, her fingers curled into the front of his shirt. He felt the unsteady tug on his skin all the way down to his bones. “Apparently, I need your help. So I’m deciding not to be afraid of you.” She actually pointed a warning finger at him. “Don’t make me regret that.”

      At that brave statement, the corner of his mouth hitched up into an admiring grin and Jake adjusted his grip to firmly cup her elbow. “No, ma’am.”

      “You know, you’re not as scary when you smile.” As scary. Interesting distinction. The woman was smart and honest. She brushed the water from her face and gifted him with a smile of her own. “Thank you for saving my life, Mr....?”

      “Lonergan.”

      “Thank you for saving me, Mr. Lonergan.” She tried to adjust the backpack on her shoulders, but winced in pain and nearly doubled over. “Ow—”

      “Easy.”

      She braced her hand against his chest and fell into him, hanging on as his arm snaked behind her waist to give her the balance she needed. “I do need your help, don’t I.”

      The lightning overhead illuminated her face for a split second. Her lips pinched thin against whatever pain or dizziness she was fighting.

      While he waited, Jake asked, “What’s your name, brave lady?”

      “Robin.” She sucked in an easier breath, and then another. “Robin Carter.” She tilted her gaze to meet his. Her gray-blue eyes squinted against the fall of rain as she focused in on him. “My daughter?”

      Jake loosened his grip, expecting her to recoil now that she was getting a close-up look at the violence of his face. Instead, her fingers curled into his wet T-shirt, grabbing some of the skin underneath. The unfamiliar burst of heat that raced to the muscles she clung to reminded him just how long it had been since he’d had a woman in any way, shape or form. All of a sudden, he wanted this one. Badly.

      She was wrong not to be afraid of him.

      “Let’s go,” he said roughly, squashing those urges and pulling her into step beside him. Jake released her only long enough to grab the baseball bat. Even though her attacker was long gone, there was no sense in giving anyone the opportunity to be armed out here except for him.

      He helped her around the van, noting that her balance grew stronger with each step, even though she was still favoring that right leg. She lost her footing once on the slick pavement and her hand flew to the middle of his chest again. Jake tried to concentrate on the accidental pinch of chest hair and not on the needy tugs on his skin that awakened something primal and male deeper inside him. He easily took her weight against his side until her wet tennis shoes found traction again.

      “Emma?” She eased her death grip on his soggy T-shirt and kept moving forward, despite a hissing catch of breath.

      The woman was a slender rail of shapeless raincoat and stubbornness, although the top of her flattened wet hair reached his chin. His blood boiled to think how much damage that jackass with the baseball bat might have done to her. “How bad are you hurt?” he asked, scanning back and forth as they crossed the empty parking lot for any signs of Mr. Amateur or his accomplice coming back for round three. “He didn’t, um...?”

      “I’ll live. And no, he didn’t rape me. He... You stopped him.” So nothing major, although he was guessing a broken leg wouldn’t have slowed her march toward the abandoned car. The crying grew louder as they approached the blue sedan. Jake had to lengthen his stride to keep up with her quickening steps. “Emma? Mommy’s here.”

      Another flash of lightning gave Jake a better view of the car. Both of the driver’s side doors were standing open and the high-pitched sobs were coming from the backseat. Robin was steady enough to break into a limping run. “Oh, my God. Emma!”

      Jake let her rush ahead, sparing a few moments to make sure the lot and street and sidewalks were empty before he caught up to her. When he looked over her shoulder, he didn’t like what he saw. The car seat was sitting at a wonky angle in the car and the seat belt anchoring it into place had been cut, sawed through with something sharp. Like that amateur’s knife. СКАЧАТЬ