Wyatt pulled a T-shirt on over his wet chest. The fabric dried as he brushed his teeth. He ran his fingers through his dark hair. It wasn’t long enough for a comb. The stubble on his jawline was a deep shadow now. He thought he’d let it grow.

If there was a question before last night about whether he’d get on his bike and ride out of St. Claire, it had been put to rest when Aly spent the night in his arms.

He didn’t know if the nightmares would stop instantly. He didn’t know if he would stop waking up in a cold sweat, but he felt a lightness he had forgotten was possible. Sharing the horror of Bhazni with her had opened his heart in a way he didn’t know was possible.

He flipped off the bathroom light, grabbed his room key, and walked into the hall.

“Good morning.” He smiled at one of the housekeepers.

She blushed and smiled. “Good morning, sir.”

Wyatt walked toward the staircase. He felt as if he could slide down four flights on the edge of the banister, but that was crazy. He jogged down the stairs. After breakfast, he would check in with Glen, but he planned on spending the rest of the day with Aly.

He would do whatever he had to help her break things off with Mitchell. He’d drive her to him. He’d call for her. He’d write an email or send the text. He didn’t care what it was. She belonged with him, not that bastard.

He rounded the second floor, smelling the fresh pot of coffee wafting up from the kitchen. He smiled, knowing Aly had made it for him.

He jogged down the last two steps and walked toward the reception desk. The light wasn’t on and the sign greeting guests wasn’t out. Something didn’t feel right.

He barged through the office door. “Aly!”

The door to her room was closed. “Aly!” He pounded on the frame, but when she didn’t answer he kicked in the door.

The hair on the back of his neck stood upright. “Get your hands off her.”

The man turned, peering at Wyatt over his shoulder. His hands were wrapped around Aly’s neck, pinning her to the wall.

“Who the fuck are you?”

Wyatt saw the fear in her eyes. Her cheeks were stained with tears.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Wyatt growled through clenched teeth.

“I’m having a conversation with my fiancée. So if you wouldn’t mind leaving us alone.”

“You’re Mitchell?” Wyatt took a step closer, but noticed Mitchell’s grip tightened around Aly’s neck. He stopped.

Mitchell’s gaze landed on Aly again. “Is he the reason?” he hissed.

She closed her eyes, the tears streaming faster now. “Please, Mitchell.”

“Let her go,” Wyatt demanded. He had to get his hands on Mitchell.

“Why, so the big bad meathead can have his way with her?” His eyebrows rose.

The growl rumbled at the base of his throat. He was close to ripping the smug look off Mitchell’s face. “Shut up. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Mitchell suddenly let his fingers loosen. Aly took a big gasp of air. “I think I know something about it.” He cocked his head toward Wyatt.

Wyatt shoved past him and pulled Aly against his chest. “Are you ok?”

She nodded. “I’m fine. He was just surprised.”

“Surprised? I wouldn’t say I was surprised.” Mitchell’s eyes hardened. “I stop by to take my bride to breakfast and find her dressed like a common whore, sneaking into her room. And not only that. She tells me she doesn’t want to get married anymore.”

His eyes bore into Wyatt. “Then you show up. Suddenly I have a clear picture of what’s happening here. The call I got yesterday from a friend that happened to see my fiance at the bar with another man is all making sense.”

Wyatt peeled Aly from his chest and stepped in front of her, creating a barrier from Mitchell. He could feel the air around this guy was reckless. There was no telling what he would do or say.

“I think you should leave, Mitchell. You don't own her and she can leave you if she damn well pleases. ”

“Is that so?”

“You don’t deserve her.” Wyatt towered over him. He didn’t want to embarrass Aly by saying she had told him all the details of their relationship, that Mitchell had treated her like shit. Hadn’t given her any full commitment. Her story made perfect sense now that he was staring at the man who had given her the ring. He could see pure evil in this man’s eyes.

“I gave her my ring. We are getting married. Some random hobo passing through town isn’t going to change that.”

Wyatt felt the pins in his lungs, he was trying to hold himself in before he did something stupid. He didn’t want to unleash in front of Aly. But the sneer in Mitchell’s voice was sending him over the edge.

“She has a say.” Wyatt breathed.

“I told you, Mitchell. I don’t think we should get married. Just go. I haven’t seen you in two weeks and you show up like this? No. I want you to leave.” Aly’s voice sounded firm.

“You know the only reason you’re saying that is because of him.” He pointed to Wyatt.

“No it’s not. And if I had any doubts, you certainly erased them when you threw me against the wall.” She glared.

Mitchell shrugged. “You know he’s using you, right? He would have snatched up any girl that was willing, just to feed his ego. That’s what guys like him do. I know all about how he’s a Green Beret that kills for a living. Everyone in town is talking about it.” He paused, snickering. “Oh, you didn’t know? He didn’t tell you about how many innocent people he’s probably slaughtered? No? Hmm.”

Mitchell stepped to the side, watching the aftershocks of the bomb he had dropped.

“You’re a fucking tool,” Wyatt snarled. “Get out! Get out of here before I rip you to shreds.”

“See? Trained killers have a nasty temper.” He waggled his finger in front of Wyatt’s nose.

Aly staggered backward, her legs hitting the bed. “Killer? Innocent people?”

Mitchell walked to the bedside table and snatched the ring from its case. His face was still pinched with rage. “I’ll find someone else in a heartbeat. Never had a problem before. I was doing you a favor by marrying you, Aly. Don’t come crawling back to me when he leaves you in the middle of the night to go back wherever it is he came from.” He shoved the ring in his pocket, and walked out of the door.

Wyatt had to check himself hard or he would run after Mitchell and tear his limbs from his body without a second thought. He had possibly just destroyed the best thing he had in his life.

“Aly?” He turned to her, but face was frozen with fright. He reached toward her, but she shrank.

“Don’t touch me.” She ran toward the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

Fuck.