Roarke’s crew was at his other property today, so he had the radio cranked up, hoping the sound would help him focus. No such luck so far.

He knew it wasn’t real, but he’d swear he could still smell her—the scent of her hair, whatever she used on her skin, her sweat after she came. He was working in the master bedroom today, finishing up the framing for the large antique doors he’d sourced. Or trying to. If he closed his eyes, he could almost hear her moans, the way she’d panted when he’d been plowing into her from behind earlier.

He’d been trying to keep his eyes off the bed, from the twisted sheets he hadn’t bothered with. He’d found her panties after she’d left, tucked under the edge of the sheet. He’d thrown them in with his dirty clothes, but fuck, it’d been hard not to put them up to his nose, to smell them, her.

He straightened. The solo shower action hadn’t done a thing to satisfy him. It didn’t help that what kept punching into his head was how she’d looked after she’d watched him jerk off.

Her cheeks had been flushed, her bottom lip red where she’d bitten it, her nipples hard little points he’d wanted to lick and suck. Yeah, she’d been turned on. Big time.

He sighed when yet another news alert came over the radio, bit back his frustration. He’d had it blaring all morning and everything seemed to be on repeat. He was just about to flip to Bluetooth and his playlist when he froze.

“This is a breaking news alert. University Hospital along Randall Road is closed as police respond to a hostage situation that started around 12:30 p.m. today.”

Roarke frowned and glanced at his watch. Thirty minutes ago.

“The public is encouraged to stay out of the area as police deal with this standoff. If people have a non-emergency concern requiring care, please seek attention at another medical facility. University Hospital personnel and medics are ready with ambulances to transport those coming to the hospital requiring immediate emergency attention.”

He lowered the nail gun to the floor, felt his focus zero in.

“At this time a man is believed to be holding several hospital personnel at gunpoint near the hospital’s ER.”

Aw, fuck.

Roarke’s gut clenched and he felt the familiar rush of adrenaline, welcomed it. Marina was at work. Who the hell knew if she was anywhere near the ER?

“The police will be providing updates as more information becomes available. This is a developing news story so stay tuned. We’ll bring you those updates as we have them.”

He grabbed his phone. It took a split second for him to decide not to call her. A ringing phone could be a distraction in a heightened situation, a dangerous distraction.

He unclipped his tool belt and let it drop with a loud thud. He grabbed the keys to his truck, headed to the front door, already mapping out the fastest route to the hospital in his head.

It was stupid, he knew it was. He didn’t even know what the hell he was going to do, but he sure as fuck wasn’t going to sit around here with his finger up his ass waiting for another news report. Not when Marina could be in danger.

There’d been no additional information on the radio by the time Roarke made it to the hospital. Three cops cars were parked out front of the hospital and a SWAT van pulled up just as he cruised past. They hadn’t closed off any roads yet, so he pulled into a side street and took the first open spot. It wasn’t really a park, but what the fuck?

He walked toward the back of the buildings. Shit, the place was huge. He scanned the crowd of people who came running out of a side door. None were Marina, but he recognized one of the nurses. The one who’d thrown a fit when he’d taken out his own IV.

Roarke grabbed her arm as she hurried past him. “Where’s Marina?” he bit out.

She looked at him in confusion. “I…”

“Marina. Where is she?”

“She’s… ER today. I think. I didn’t see her. Oh, God…”

His gut tightened along with his hold on her arm.

“Did you see the intruder?”

“Just a glimpse. I remember you. You were—”

“One man?”

The news said one, but the information might not be accurate.

She nodded. “What—”

“Are you sure?” Roarke pushed.

“Yes.”

“He’s armed?”

“Yes. He—”

“What type of weapon?”

“I—I don’t know. A gun, I don’t know what type. I—”

“Demeanor?”

She frowned. “Demeanor?”

Roarke bit back the impatience. “Did he seem agitated? Calm? Angry? Confused?”

“Ah…he—he seemed upset, he was yelling. I think he said something about the hospital hiding something from him.”

Shit. Possibly mentally unstable.

“Where is he now?”

“He came in through emergency. I was coming back from break when I caught sight of him. I think—I think he was heading toward the PACU.”

“The what?”

“PACU. The post-anesthesia care unit. You—you were there when you came out of the OR.”

“How do I get there from here?” He motioned to the door she’d just come out of. “If I go through that door?”

She shook her head. “It’s complicated. I…”

“Focus. I need clear, directional instructions. The fastest route.”

“Okay, um, through the doors, straight down the corridor until you get to the very end. Take a left. There’ll be a set of elevators. Go up to the first floor. Go right, through a set of double doors. To another bank of elevators. Go back down a floor. When you come out you should be right there. You’ll see the signs…”

Roarke let her go and turned toward the door, already creating a virtual map in his mind.

“Wait. You can’t…”

He ignored her, rushed for the door, dodging the people still filing out. He bypassed the elevator and took the stairs, two at a time, ignoring the twinge in his leg, accepting that he’d probably pay for it later. He tried a light jog down the empty corridor, favoring his left leg as much as possible and took the stairs again back down.

When he cracked open the door to the floor he winced.

“Where is she? Where have you hidden her?”

The shout was loud, panicked. Demeanor definitely not calm or rational.

“Sir, please…”

“Shut up. Stop with the lies.”

Shit.

Roarke swallowed back the bitter taste in his mouth. That’d been Marina’s voice. He’d hoped like fuck she’d made it out, that she was somewhere else, but he’d had a sinking feeling since he’d heard the news report. His instincts had never let him down. Not once. He was alive because he’d learned to listen to them.

He slipped into the corridor and eased into the first treatment room. He grabbed the hospital gown at the foot of the bed, toed off his boots and socks and yanked off his work pants. He thrust his arms through the gown and hoped like hell he could pass for a patient.

“Tell me where she is. Now. I know you’re keeping her here.”

“I swear to you she’s not here. She—she left.”

Marina’s voice trailed off and Roarke took a deep breath. He stepped back out into the corridor, keeping close to the wall. When he reached the corner, he got his first good look at the threat.

Middle aged man. Average build. Unkempt. The way he held the gun told Roarke he hadn’t had any specialized training. Possibly mentally unstable. And fuck…he stood with his gun pointed directly at Marina.

She was pale, standing out in front of a group of hospital staff and patients, cowering behind her. She opened her mouth when she saw him. He gave a slight shake of his head, hoping like hell she would know he didn’t want her to draw any attention to him.

Fear. He thought he knew what it was, that he’d lived with it long enough, learned to conquer it on a daily basis. He’d had no fucking clue before this. Even as a SEAL he’d never felt this type of fear before. He’d put himself in danger all the time. Every fucking day. Risk was part of what he’d done, what he’d signed up for. He might have even got off on the adrenaline rush of it in the beginning.

But this? The churning, twisting cold that felt like shards of glass in his veins? He’d never felt anything like it before because right now Marina was directly in the line of fire, putting herself between the assailant and the others. Protective. Calm. Brave. And un-fucking-acceptable.

He stepped forward. It was go time.

The man’s eyes snapped to him, but he kept the gun steady on Marina.

“Get over there.” He motioned with the weapon to the group, just as Roarke had anticipated.

Roarke lifted his hands away from his body, continued to take easy, slow steps until he stood in front of her, blocking her from the guy’s view, until the gun pointed directly at his own chest.

“It’s cool, man,” Roarke murmured.

Now that he had his attention, Roarke inched to the right. The gun wavered, but followed his movement.

Thank fuck.

“Hey, don’t move,” he demanded.

Roarke spread his arms wide out in front of him. “Take it easy, man,” he murmured, keeping his voice low and even, moving another few inches.

“I said don’t move.”

Roarke kept his movements slow, but kept moving to the right and forward until he was sure Marina was clear behind him.

“You’re scaring everyone, man,” Roarke offered. The man’s eyes widened as if that had never occurred to him. “All the women, they’re scared. What would your wife think about that?”

When the gun lowered, when his eyes shifted from him to the group of nurses, Roarke was ready. And made his move.

He grabbed the gun and stepped into the man. Before he had a chance to react, he’d jerked it to the side and out of his hand with the momentum of his movement, ignoring the screams behind him, blocking out everything but what was right in front of him.

The guy’s eyes went wide, but it was too late. Roarke had already emptied the clip along with the round in the chamber. And fuck if it hadn’t been fully loaded. He tossed the useless weapon on the floor and froze when the guy pulled out a knife.

Roarke ground his back teeth together until his jaw clicked. Anger rose inside of him in a wave, like a red haze over his eyes. A knife. Did it have to be a knife? Couldn’t it have been anything other than a Goddamn knife?

Roarke charged him before he had a chance to get into an offensive position. He grabbed the hand that held the knife. And twisted. Hard.

The snap of bone was loud. It was swallowed up by the scream of pain that quickly followed.

“I’m sorry, man,” Roarke grunted. “But no one points a gun at anyone I consider mine and no one—and I mean no one—pulls a fucking knife on me. Not ever again.”

He kicked the guy’s legs out from under him. Roarke should have felt bad when he hit the ground hard, cradling his hand, but he didn’t. He just hoped like hell he didn’t have any more weapons.

Roarke took several deep breaths, tried to get the adrenaline rush under control. He reached for the cold, the calm, the controlled, but he couldn’t get a handle on it. The rage continued to roll through him, the fear almost a living thing inside him he couldn’t harness.

He held the knife out away from his side when he heard the rumble of boots behind him.

“Freeze.”

He lifted his arms up and away from his body. He didn’t feel like getting shot, not today. He glanced over at Marina. Even though she had her hands over her mouth, he could see she was pale. Her eyes were wide and her gaze when it met his was glazed. Probably shock.

Didn’t matter. Nothing did. Because she was safe.

And then all hell broke loose.