HelenKay Dimon - Copy That

“You’ll pay for that” was all he said.

The terse phrase was enough to get her moving again, sore knee and all. She scrambled up the back of the couch, clawing her way over shredded cushions and slipping over the top toward the window. Just as one leg hit the floor, he grabbed the other. Two baseball glove–sized hands held her ankle in a viselike grip.

“You’re not going anywhere, sweetheart,” he said as he started twisting her foot.

She shifted her hips to keep him from breaking it. “What do you want?”

“Came here looking for one thing but looks like I’ll be leaving with another.” He leered at her as he spoke.

The sick gleam in his dark eyes touched off a frenzy of panic inside her. Her hands shook and the urge to throw up almost overtook her. It had been years since she’d experienced violence. She blocked it so that she could function every day, but the memories kicked to the surface now.

“Please let me go.”

The man just laughed. The deep sound, so menacing in its promise of pain, cut across her nerves.

Keep fighting . The words flashed in her brain and ran through her, soaking into every pore.

When one of his palms slid up her calf to the back of her knee, she knew she had a chance. Waiting for just the right moment, when his sick need to control overcame his battle stance, she kicked out as hard as she could. Her heel crashed into his jaw, sending his head flying backward as he yelped in surprise.

She heard the crunch and then she was free. Momentum sent her flying back against the window. She reached for the curtains to steady her weight. With a roaring rip, the rod gave way and she fell on her butt. Wedged between the couch and the wall, she struggled to get her legs under her.

With a rage-filled cry, her attacker reached over the sofa and pulled her to her feet. The bright red cheeks and clenched teeth didn’t scare her half as much as the gun in his hand. She had no idea where it had come from, but it was pointed at the center of her chest.

“You’ll learn.” He practically spit as he talked. His fingers dug into the bare skin of her forearm.

“I have money.” She didn’t, but she needed time.

The house sat off the main strip filled with tourists and shops, but people walked by all the time on their way to the water. If she could stall long enough, a witness might see her by the window, call the police to check it out.

His gaze crept down the front of her blouse. “You have everything I need right on you.”

Disgust clogged her throat as she glanced around looking for something—anything—she could throw through the front window. She spied the overturned lamp on the floor and plotted the best way to drop to the floor and grab it with a man holding on to her arm hard enough to cause bruises.

She’d just resigned herself to a broken arm when she saw a blur of movement behind her attacker. Black hair and stone-cold blue eyes. Six feet of lethal male machine.

Her heart slowed to a jog as the tension rushing through her eased. Everything would be okay now.

Garrett Hill had come home.

The usual military haircut and fatigues were gone, replaced by hair brushed down almost over his eyes and faded blue jeans. In the weeks away, his smile had disappeared but one thing looked the same—his strength. A tight black T-shirt stretched across his wide shoulders and chest, highlighting every muscle.

She’d never been so relieved to see anyone in her life. Her shoulders sagged and she had to fight off a smile when an openmouthed stare replaced the attacker’s snarl as Garrett shoved a gun into the back of the other man’s head.

“Let the lady go, nice and slow.” Garrett reached around and grabbed the other man’s gun.

“This isn’t over, Hill.”

“Sure feels like it is.” Garrett nodded his head at her. “Come over here.”

She didn’t even make it to the other side of the couch before the attacker lunged. He threw his body backward, aiming his head right for Garrett’s chin. Garrett shifted in time to deflect the blow, but the attacker turned around. They were face-to-face with the gun trapped between them. Both of their hands held the weapon as Garrett elbowed the other man in the side of the head.

Already injured, the attacker pulled back. Garrett used the opening to wrestle the gun away. It made a short pffft sound as he shot the attacker in the knee.

The man went down with a whoosh, squealing and moaning as he dropped to the hardwood. Glass crunched under him where he rolled around.

She watched the blood stream onto the floor right before Garrett slammed his weapon against the attacker’s head, sending him into a deadly quiet sprawl.

Then Garrett was there, right in front of her. “Are you okay?”

She tried to look past Garrett’s stiff shoulders to the still body below. “Is he dead?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

“I don’t understand. Who is that?”

“No idea.”

“I don’t—” The words died in her throat when he touched her shoulder, bringing her gaze back to him. She couldn’t remember a time in the year since she’d moved in when he’d touched her. “How can you not recognize him? He was in your house.”

“There are two things you need to know.” Garrett waited until she nodded before continuing. “First, we need to get out of here right now.”

She didn’t exactly disagree but she wanted to understand. “Don’t we need to…?”

His eyebrow rose. “What?”

“I don’t know. Something.”

“Okay, then. My second point.” He held up another finger. “I’m not Garrett.”

For the most part, Jeremy Hill thought the woman took both pieces of information pretty well. Didn’t balk or ask questions as he steered her to the front door and onto the porch, which was good since he had only a few minutes to get her calm and out of there.

Not many people could face down a trained killer, handle some scary and unexpected information and stay on their feet. Add in a nasty bout of manhandling and she should be screaming by now. But her facial expression didn’t even change.

He was impressed.

He had no idea who she was or why she was here. If he had more time, he’d appreciate the sweet pair of legs sticking out from under those shorts. He almost swore when a double kick of attraction and envy hit him. Garrett had kept quiet about this woman. Part of Jeremy understood why.

Of course, Garrett shouldn’t be with any woman except his fiancée…or was it former fiancée? Jeremy wasn’t sure where that relationship stood, but Garrett’s last message had suggested trouble. Not that Jeremy had time to worry about that now.

The woman in front of him started blinking. “Did you hit your head?”

From the look on her face he wondered if she had. “Uh, no.”

“Fall down?”

He held up both hands, including the one with the loaded gun. “Okay, let me just stop you before you run through every possible injury scenario. I’m fine.”

She snorted. “You sure sound like Garrett.”

Not the first time he’d heard that. “Probably because I’m his brother.”

“Brother?”

“Yes.” The confusion hadn’t left her eyes, so he nodded to emphasize his answer. “He didn’t tell you he had an identical twin?”

Her chest rose and fell on a hard breath. “No, but I guess that would explain it.”

“Not a surprise. He tends to be private.”

She snorted. “There’s an understatement.”

Seemed she did know Garrett. In their respective lines of work, the brothers kept their personal lives secret. It was an unspoken way of protecting each other. Their bond could transcend weeks, months even, without communication. They didn’t need to announce it in every conversation.