Bingo.

The idiots had just given him Leigh’s location. Hopefully he could keep it together just a few minutes longer. He cursed his injury and weakness. He wasn’t able to move with half of his usual stealth. Fortunately, luck was on his side and the only one who’d seen his movement was the kid. No one ever believed the new guy.

The maintenance room’s locked door might buy him a little time. Then again, if someone had the keys, the few seconds wouldn’t be enough. Regardless, his time was running out. He’d pushed past his limit.

He stayed as low as his leg allowed and made his way along a wall, toward the door in the back corner.

“Why are you so jumpy, man?”

“I’m not. I’m cool.”

The kid was anything but cool. He was one jitter away from a panicked eruption.

It gave him an idea.

He pulled out his lock pick kit and took out a couple of tools. Reining in his impatience, he waited. The moment the men relaxed, he threw his smallest pick to the opposite side of the room. The sound of metal hitting the floor was quiet, but clearly audible in the large, mostly concrete room.

As Rick had hoped, the kid’s anxiety only increased. “Did you hear that? Dave, is that you?”

“Chill. It was probably just a mouse.”

“No way. I heard the office girl say that everything in here has to be extra sanitary, because of the medical stuff. There aren’t supposed to be any rodents or bugs. I thought it was funny at the time, because of what we do back here. There’s nothing clean about what goes on here at night.” The kids voice rose in volume as his words tumbled out faster and faster. “Maybe we should leave. We’ll go in the storeroom, get whatever the boss is keeping in there, and take it with us. We’ll keep it safe and call him to come get it.”

“No. No way. It’s just a little darkness. Man up, for fuck’s sake. Just because it’s supposed to be clean, doesn’t mean it is. It was just a fucking mouse.”

Rick threw the largest pick in the same area. Then moved a few feet closer to the door. He was making progress, but this method wasted time he didn’t have. If they got into the utility room and turned the power on, he was screwed.

He threw two more picks, one right after the last. He needed something larger. Then he pulled the pocket mirror he used for seeing around corners. Useless in the dark, he wouldn’t miss it. He threw it just a few feet from the tools. In the silent, cavernous room the clattering sound clamored and echoed.

Finally, the kid lost his slippery grip on his remaining composure. “Shit!” Someone fired three shots fired in rapid succession. Light flashed in Rick’s periphery. He raced to the door and hoped for all he was worth that it was unlocked.

The world behind him erupted into chaos as someone else yelled. “Shut the idiot down before he kills us all!”

Rick shut out the cacophony and narrowed his focus onto one small pinpoint. The handle. He blocked out the pain, awkwardly running the remaining distance.

“What the fuck is going on here?” The guy who’d gone to look for the electrical panel had returned.

Out of options, Rick aimed at the ceiling and fired his own shot. He hoped the echoes would confuse them further.

“That wasn’t me! That wasn’t me! There’s somebody in here, I swear!”

He grabbed the handle and twisted. Thank the heavens, it turned. Yanking the door open, he lunged into the room and pulled it closed behind himself. The dim world spun around him as he leaned against the door and gasped for air.

He ditched his night vision goggles and peered into the spinning room. Looking for any sign of life, he listened to the chaos outside.

“Shit, I saw it, too.”

“I told you!”

The senior guy snapped at the kid. “Give me that fucking gun.”

Rick stood in a ghost town. His stomach dropped like a stone to his feet. He limped further into the room. To his left, he saw nothing but old file cabinets and a stack of cardboard boxes. To his right, a wall of shelves filled with industrial cleaning supplies and an array of chemicals. He might not be able to read all the warning labels in the dim room, but he suspected it was the kind of stuff you wouldn’t put in just any janitor’s hands. The entire wall was lined with gallon sized jugs. When he’d heard the men talking about special cargo, he’d been so certain they meant Leigh. Had they only meant the shit they used to cut the heroin?

Now what do I do?

He’d barely made it in there alive with the hopes of finding Leigh. Saving her was the only reason he’d had to keep himself together. Without her? He had nothing. No reserves left. And Leigh? God. Where was she? Could he have screwed this up any worse?

He smacked the back of his head against the door. “Fuck. Me.”

* * *

When gunshots barked right outside the door, she dropped like a stone to the ground. She had no idea what caused the commotion, but she wanted nothing to do with it or any stray bullets. When the door opened and closed just a moment later, she held her breath. Fear sent her heart racing, fighting to get out of her chest.

Then she heard two magical words. Six perfect letters.

“Fuck. Me.”

It wasn’t the words so much as the weak, rasping voice that spoke them. Before her brain could tell her mouth to stop and be cautious, quiet, the stupid orifice opened.

“Rick?” For all she knew, she might be imagining things. She struggled to rise, but in her haste, she fell.

Footsteps rushed over and then big hands were on her, turning her until she sat on her backside. Then in the murky darkness, she heard the voice that she’d worried might be gone forever. Rick’s. “Thank Christ. Are you okay?” She wanted to sob with relief, wanted desperately to wrap her arms around him and crush him to her.

Yet, she couldn’t. She was as helpless as a turtle on its back.

“I’m fine. Please tell me you have a knife?” Her head buzzed with a hundred questions, but their situation went above and beyond dire.

Low, a little bit gravely and a lot tired, he spoke into her ear. “Yeah. I do. Don’t move.” She ached to lean closer and absorb his presence, his everything. He cupped her lower legs in his big palms and examined the ties around her ankles.

His hands shook as he pulled out his knife.

“Rick. I—I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. Your leg? I—”

“Not now. And it’s not your fault. Never. Let’s concentrate on getting out of here alive. Okay?” He sounded so tired, utterly drained of his usual strength. He should be in a hospital bed, not running a Dark Horse operation.

Speaking of which… Something didn’t add up.

“Rick. Where are the rest of the crew?” It might be Rick’s newly formed team, but considering the shape he was in, she didn’t think Trent would let him participate in a rescue mission. She might have only known him for a few months, but she knew enough about Trent Dawson to understand he would lock Rick down if he wasn’t up to a job.

His hands trembled on her legs. Alarmed, she looked at him closer. Was it the yellow tinted light casting the sickly hue to his skin? When sweat beaded on his forehead she feared it wasn’t. His breaths were short and shallow. He didn’t look up to walking out of the room on his own steam, let alone running an op.

Not to mention her overprotective brother Joe who, at the minimum, would be right in the thick of things, if not barging in and taking over. Something stank to high heaven.

“Sweetheart, don’t move.” Despite the noticeable tremble in his hands, he positioned the blade with precision beneath the tie.

“Yeah. You already said that. What’s going on?” When he wouldn’t meet her eyes, her stomach sank.

His only response was to cut her bonds loose. A million pins and needles stabbed her legs. An excruciating rush of feeling returned to her lower limbs. It was all she could do not to cry out. The trembling in her muscles made Rick’s hands look like immovable granite. He sat the knife down and, starting at her ankles, tried to massage some feeling back into her legs.

Outside the room, one voice rose above the others. The one who’d taken charge and seemed the most capable had returned. “What the hell is going on here? Give me that fucking gun.”

All the other voices started talking at once, spilling a tangled story.

“Something’s up. The door to the utility room is locked. It was unlocked when I got here. I found the key. Don’t let anyone out, nobody fucking move until I get the lights back on. Not a fucking millimeter.”

“We gotta go, babe. We’re sitting ducks.”

“Okay.” The only thing she knew was that she had to trust Rick’s abilities.

He considered the window then he looked back to her. “It’ll be a tight fit, but I think we can make it.”

He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her jeans and helped her to her feet. He didn’t have to tell her to hold still. She willed her shaking legs to remain steady so he could free her arms. A moment later, her arms dropped to her sides. If she thought the pain in her legs had been bad? The agony in her arms was about ten times worse.

She kept her misery in check by reminding herself that Rick had a gunshot wound, and he’d come to rescue her. His torment had to be a hundred times greater. And his willpower? Apparently, the man had more than a wounded superhero on a mission to save the planet.

“Help me move the desk, babe. We’re running out of time.”

He hurried to one end, and she went to the opposite. In unison, they lifted the heavy monstrosity and shuffled it over to sit beneath the window. His shoulders heaved with deep breaths as he straightened.

He braced himself with a long, steadying breath and used his arms to climb up onto the desk with an awkward hop. He pulled an odd hammer shaped tool from a pocket on the side of his fatigues and broke the window’s glass. He ripped off his tee, wrapped it around one hand and used it to clear the remaining shards from the frame.

“All right. Let’s go. You first.”

“But—”

With one look, he quelled her objection. He made a step with his clasped palms. She stepped up with one leg and swung the other into the opening. When it was through to her knee, he supported her so she could put the second leg through.

He grabbed her hand and slapped a set of keys into her palm. “Turn left and run one block. My car is parked on the far side of a red brick, two story building. Wait one minute. If I don’t show, go without me. Count to sixty, then get out of here. Find somewhere to call for help. No arguments.”

The soft light of dawn highlighted his hard features. A new, darker light entered his eyes. In the few months she’d known him, she’d learned he lived life far too serious. She could count the number of times she’d seen him smile on one hand. Kylie, her six-year-old niece, had been responsible for most of them.

But this darkness? It scared her on a bone deep, visceral level. She didn’t know this man. A stone cold, merciless warrior’s eyes stared into hers, demanding her obedience. She was a stranger walking in an unfamiliar world. He lived, even thrived here.

She’d be an utter fool to disobey this new, somehow impossibly darker, Rick.

“Leigh. Promise me.”

“Okay. I promise. One minute. Please don’t make me leave without you. Please.”

“I’ll be right—”

Voices outside the door broke into their conversation. Unsurprisingly, they heard the kid above everyone else. “Light! Finally. I can see. Hey, the door’s locked.”

“Move out of the way, idiot.”

Rick crushed his mouth to hers in a hard, brutal kiss.

Then his mouth was gone, and the dark eyes returned. “Go.”

Her feet touched the ground. As if they heard his order, they ignored the screams in her heart and ran across the parking lot. When the first gunshot rang out behind her, she didn’t stop to look. She put her faith in Rick and kept running.

And praying.

Several more gunshots followed the first. Tears ran unheeded down her cheeks as an iron fist squeezed her heart. Following his directions, she ran to the truck as the soft morning world blurred through a wet shimmer. The moment his vehicle came into view, she fumbled with the keys until she found the one with the unlock button. The car chirped at her and she threw open the door and jumped into the driver seat. She put the key into the ignition. Thunder rocked the earth, shaking the seat beneath her.

Reflexively, she ducked her head and covered her ears.

Oh my god. Oh my god. Rick.

Her head popped up. Smoke billowed from the warehouse.

Forget waiting.

Forget waiting and driving away from that blast, from Rick.

She threw the car into drive and stomped on the gas. Tires squealed, but she didn’t stay to smell the burning rubber. She cut the corner and drove over the curb, driving back the way she’d just come.

She would not leave without the idiot.

Where the hell are Joe and Trent?

Racing around the corner, she half expected to run into him. But he wasn’t there. Other than the smoke pouring out of the warehouse, the early morning scene sat silent and still before her.

She braked, halting the car in its tracks. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she scanned the area. Then she saw him. Up ahead, lying on the far side of the parking lot was a body. Black pants, no shirt, dark hair.

Rick. Her Rick. Lying face down in the parking lot. She put her foot on the gas, speeding across the pavement. She pulled up directly beside him then braked to a hard, jolting stop. Hopping out, she raced to his side. She dropped to her knees and checked for a pulse at his neck.

Relief washed over her when she felt the rapid flutter against her fingers.

“Rick, come on. We have to get out of here. Where is your cell?”

“In the truck. Battery’s dead.” Each word spoken seemed a struggle.

“Then we have to find a phone and call an ambulance.”

He raised his pale face to meet her gaze. He was sweaty and filthy. Abrasions marked one cheek. She’d never seen a more precious sight than the light of his dark eyes staring back at her. “No. Get in the passenger side. The blast knocked me down, but I’m fine. We have to get you somewhere safe.”

“Rick, you need a doctor.”

The muscles in his upper arms bulged as he braced his arms against the pavement to push himself up. “Now, Leigh. Get in.” He stiffly rose and gripped her upper arm. “Marcus will arrive any moment. Who knows what his men are doing? We have to get you out of here.”

“Are you crazy? You’re hurt! I’ll drive.” A gunshot rang out.

“Leigh, damn it. Get in!” He barked the order and ushered her inside the vehicle. Once she was in, he slammed the door and limped at a run to the driver side.

A moment later, they were on the way.

He shifted in his seat, as if to find a comfortable position for his leg. His hand shook as he put it back on the steering wheel.

“Are you sure you’re okay? I think we’re far enough away for me to drive.” She prayed he’d let her take over. He looked ready to pass out. God, he’d been shot what? Twelve hours ago? This was crazy.

She couldn’t believe so much had happened in such a short time. All she’d wanted to do was drop off food for Addie. Feeling it might not be safe, he’d warned her against it. She hadn’t listened and nearly gotten them killed. Rick had been hurt. Her brother, Cara, they’d all been shot at. She could have accidentally drawn the orphaned girl into a shootout!

Another terrible thought punched her in the belly.

She’d assumed everyone had made it through that mess, simply because the alternative was unthinkable. But any number of horrible things could have happened to them. What if Rick was the only one capable of coming after her?

Nausea roiled in her belly, pushing bile higher and higher in her throat. The edges of her vision wavered and grew dim. She had to know, but couldn’t make herself ask the question that might trigger an answer capable of breaking her in two.

“Leigh? Stay with me. You’re safe now. Just a few more minutes and we’ll be in safe territory. Morning traffic is rolling in and they won’t chance a scene in front of witnesses. Marcus has too much to lose. C’mon, baby. Breathe. Slow deep breaths in and out.”

How pathetic was she? She was physically fine, safe, and here she was, on the verge of a panic attack. He’d been shot, was likely bleeding everywhere, and he was taking care of her.

Time to get my shit together.

“I’m okay.” She closed her eyes and forced the words out of her mouth. “Joe? Cara? Kate and Trent? How is everyone?”

“They’re fine. Truly. I was the only one injured. Well, not true. Cara’s ankle is probably twelve shades of purple, but it’s not broken. She refused crutches. Joe didn’t have the strength to fight her over it. Your parents are staying with Kylie up at the big house on Walker Farms.”

All the worry and fear whooshed out of her in one long exhale. Beyond a bomb shelter, she couldn’t think of a safer place for her family than the Walker’s horse farm. The place had always had an extensive security system in place. After her cousin Kate’s kidnapping, Trent had only increased its safety measures.

There weren’t words in the universe capable of describing the amount of relief those few words had given her. Yet it didn’t answer all her questions.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Her words softened with worry. “You look like hell, Rick. Really. I don’t know how you’re still upright.”

He was quiet, subdued. “I’ll be fine. Promise.” She wondered if he were trying to convince himself as much as he was her.

“What happened back there? I mean what caused the explosion?”

“Me. One of them shot out the lock in the door. They barged into the room, armed and ready to kill. They fired at me as I climbed out the window. I suspect all the chemicals in there didn’t mix well with bullets. There’s no telling what kind of flammables Marcus hid in there.”

“What do we do now?”

“We get somewhere safe until I can figure out what to do about this shitstorm.”

What could she say to that? She had nothing.

Despite the warm morning, shivers racked her body. She wrapped her arms around herself and waited. Wondered.

The morning world raced by as he drove them to God only knew where. They exited the highway and, just when she thought they were headed to Trent’s, the familiar scenery changed. The sprawling horse farms looked similar to Walker Farms in size and grandeur, but they didn’t have the same comfortable charm she loved.

Rick slowed the SUV at a set of enormous of gates. Black, elegant scrollwork surrounded the letter U. He pushed a button on the truck’s sun-visor and the gates opened. He drove them onto a long, winding drive flanked by towering oak trees. The setting would have any movie producer weeping with envy.

While she looked around slack-jawed, he drove them practically to the front door and parked. He grabbed the keys then his phone from the cubby under the radio. “I need to charge my phone. I have something for you.”

What planet was he on? Had blood loss made him loopy? “Are you crazy? I couldn’t care less about presents. You need a doctor—better yet, a trip to the emergency room. I need to call Joe. My family will be half mad with worry.” Stubbornly, he limped inside the ridiculously huge mansion with a single-minded focus that scared her. He looked well past ready to collapse. If she didn’t have nightmares from the guy who kidnapped her, the sickly pallor of Rick’s skin would surely bring them on. White as a sheet, trembling, she feared he’d pass out any moment.

He hobbled through the empty halls until he came to an office furnished with a desk and single chair. Like the rest of the home so far, it seemed cold and lonely. He stalked to the desk, attached a charger cable to his phone, and laid it on the desktop. His focus was scarily narrow. Nothing but getting that phone up and functioning seemed to matter, not even his life. She couldn’t imagine how whatever it was could be so important. Has he grown delirious?

As much as she hated interrupting, she had her own desperate needs. Her family. She had to let them know she was okay. “Do you have a house phone I can use? I really need to call Joe.” And an ambulance for you, big guy.

“The line works, but I haven’t gotten around to purchasing the actual handsets yet. My cell will be ready in just a moment or two. I need it for one or two minutes and then you can have it. Promise. Five minutes, tops.”

“Okay.” Hopefully, he’d cooperate with her after he took care of whatever madness held him in its tight grip. She rearranged her priorities and vowed to call 911 before she called her family. Her heart caught in her throat, blocking her argument.

He swayed a little on his feet as he stared down at the dead phone, waiting. She felt unsteady, shaken as her hands trembled. She couldn’t even imagine how terrible Rick must feel. He’d nearly driven himself to the grave in order to rescue her and he continued to forge ahead when it appeared a stiff breeze could knock him over.

He pushed a button and the phone lit up. He touched the screen a few more times, but she was more concerned with making sure he didn't pass out than with whatever he was doing with the godforsaken phone.

Then she heard it and understood.

A small, timid voice filled the air. “Uh. Hey. I hope this thing works. I saw him take her. That guy with the blond hair. He carried her over his shoulder like a sack. Um. I took a picture of his license plate.” The world around her tilted, and she placed her palms flat on the desk for stability. Addie. In the midst of all the chaos, Addie had called him.

Bright morning sun poured in through the large window, casting Rick in shadow. He touched the screen and the sound of a ringing phone filled the tomb silent room. She held her breath, waiting through two of the longest rings Leigh had ever heard. Then the line connected.

Addie spoke, getting right to business. “Did you get her back?”

Rick nodded his head once to the phone, indicating that she should answer.

Leigh swallowed the grapefruit in her throat. “Hey, sweetheart. He did. I’m safe. What about you? How are you?” What Leigh really wanted to know was where the girl was. Was she hiding near her home? A million worries raced through her head.

“I’m okay.” Addie paused, as if uncertain. “Um. You’re really okay? He didn’t hurt you or…” There was another pause. When something dark and sinister filled the air, Leigh didn’t know whether to vomit or punch a hole in the wall. “He didn’t do anything to you did he?” The stark fear in the girl’s quiet voice put a stranglehold on Leigh’s words.

As far as Leigh knew, there was no reason for Addie to be so scared of someone she’d never met. Unless she’d run across him at some point.

Rick cursed. A string of vile, hate-filled profanity filled the air, shocking Leigh out of her stupor. “No. I’m fine, sweetheart, really. Whe—?”

Anxious terror laced Addie’s words. “Is he in jail? Did they catch him?” Her small voice rose in pitch and volume. It was a fear not born of suspicion, but of experience.

Leigh’s blood drained to her feet as she answered the girl. “No, Addie. Not yet, but we will. We’ll get him.”

An oppressive cloud of panic filled the atmosphere as the girl’s words tumbled out. “He’s still out there? Oh no. I gotta go. I gotta get out of here.” The panicked chant continued for a few seconds longer then abruptly cut off as the line disconnected.

When an invisible, yet palpable snap of rage lashed through her, Leigh looked up to the source. Rick. He stepped away from behind the desk, a juggernaut, hellbent on murder. That’s when she saw it. One leg of his black pants was darker down the front, soaked through. With each step, he left smears of crimson in his wake. She rushed to stop him, putting herself in his path. “Rick, you can’t. You need a hospital.” Like, yesterday.

“Move.” The gentle hold on her shoulders contrasted with the barely leashed violence straining his voice.

“No, Rick. You can’t.” She braced her hands against the hard muscles of his chest.

“Leigh. Move, baby.” His hands left her shoulders and went to her waist. She was tall, and had never shied away from meeting a man head-on. Rick’s six-foot-plus frame easily dwarfed hers.

Drawing on every bit of her patience and determination, she cupped his face in her palms. “You have to get your leg tended to. You won’t be able to save anyone when you pass out.” She implored as she tried in vain to catch his focus. She met his gaze with hers, but he wasn’t seeing her.

Sweat broke out on his forehead. “I have to find her.” He swayed on his feet as he moved her aside.

“Damn you. You can’t go. You don’t even know where she is. You don’t know where he is. You’ll be lucky to make it out the front door.” Again, she raced to stand in front of him. Chest to chest, they danced a dance of fear and anger. Leigh feared for his life and his anger burned hot enough to blister the skin from her bones. Yet, she knew she was safe from his rage. Though his fury might be enough to drive him to his very grave, he’d never lay a single finger on her. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she tried with all her might to stop him.

The door behind her burst open and hit the wall with a bang. When she whipped her head around, Joe and Trent stood there.

“Joe! Help me stop him!”

Rick swayed again as he tried to move her out of the way. She followed, trying to block him. He gripped her hips and tried to lift her. She wriggled from his hold, braced her shoulder low against his chest and planted her feet on the floor, linebacker style.

Then she held her breath and prayed to the heavens.

Then he toppled backward, taking her with him until they both fell to the floor with a bone shaking crash.

Thudding feet raced to them. Large hands gently grasped her upper arms. Male voices spoke hurriedly. Dimly, she heard one of them calling for an ambulance.

For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, she placed trembling fingers on Rick’s neck. Holding her breath and concentrating with everything she had, she thought she felt a faint flutter. Hopefully.