A Hero to Hold

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A Hero to Hold Page 24

by Linda Castillo


  A few seconds later, Lena told her to stay calm and to keep a low profile. Help was already on-site. Daring to relax the tiniest bit, Eva slid the phone back into its holster.

  All she had to do was stay calm. Easy enough. She stepped off the seat.

  The sound of the door opening sent fear exploding in her veins. She flushed the toilet, took a breath and exited the stall.

  The man she thought to be in charge waited for her. He leaned against the door, the weapon in his hand lying flat against his chest. She decided that all the intruders were under thirty. This one looked to be early twenties. Though he appeared younger than the others, he was clearly the boss.

  Eva steadied herself. “This is the ladies’ room.” She stared at him. “Baño femenino.”

  He laughed. “Si.”

  Oh crap. She squared her shoulders and took a step toward the door…toward him. “I need to be back out there helping your friends.”

  He shook his head. “There is plenty help already.”

  Eva swallowed back the scream mushrooming in her throat. There was no one to hear. This jerk was slightly taller than her five-seven. He was heavier and more muscled than her for sure, and a hell of a lot meaner. But she might be able to take him…if not for the gun.

  As if he’d read her mind, he smiled and pointed the muzzle at her head. “On your knees, bitch.”

  The shaking started so deep inside her that she wondered how she remained standing, yet somehow she did. “The police are coming.” The words shook, too, but she couldn’t keep her voice steady if her life depended on it. Right now the ability to continue breathing might very well depend on her next word or move. “If you’re smart, you’ll tell your friends and you’ll run. Now, while you still can.”

  He nodded, that nasty grin still stretched across his lips. “Yes,” he agreed, the word sounding more like des with his thick accent.

  Since he made no move to rush to his friends and warn them, her advice had clearly fallen on deaf ears. “So you don’t care if you get caught?” She shrugged. “You want to go to prison? Then you can be somebody’s bitch.”

  He charged toward her, pinned her to the counter of the row of sinks behind her. Of their own volition, her hands shot up in surrender. “Just trying to help you out. You…you don’t want the police to show up and find you distracted. If you go now, they won’t catch you.”

  She hoped like hell the guy had enough self-preservation instinct to realize she had a valid point.

  “You talk a lot for a dead girl,” he growled as he jammed the muzzle against her temple now. “You give me some of that—” he slid his free hand down her belly, forcing it between her thighs “—with no trouble and I’ll be gone so fast you’ll still be begging for more.”

  Trapped between him and the counter with his damned gun pointed at her brain, she couldn’t move, didn’t dare scream. Her heart flailed against her sternum. Stay calm. Your fear makes him stronger.

  “Okay, okay.” This close she smelled the whiskey on his breath, could fully comprehend just how inebriated he was. Bleary eyes. Slurred speech. No wonder he wasn’t worried about the police. She drew in a shaky breath. Play along until you come up with a better plan. “What do you want?”

  He laughed. “Suck me.”

  She nodded as she slowly lowered her hands. The muzzle bored into her skull a little harder as she reached for his fly. He was fully erect, bulging against his jeans. Bile rose in her throat as she unfastened the button, then lowered the zipper. She told herself over and over she had no choice as she reached into his open fly. He didn’t have on any underwear so he was right there. She closed the fingers of her right hand around him while somehow managing to restrain the shudder of revulsion.

  In hopes of putting off what he really wanted, her hand started to move. He made a satisfied sound, his eyes partially closing. “Oh, yeah, that’s a good start.”

  She worked her hand back and forth faster and faster, felt his body tense. Watched his eyes drift completely shut.

  Now or never.

  Eva ducked her head, jammed her left shoulder into his gut and pushed with every ounce of her body weight. At the same time, she released his penis and grabbed his testicles and twisted as hard as she could.

  He screamed.

  The weapon discharged.

  The mirror over the sinks shattered.

  He grabbed at her; she twisted her upper body out of reach, spinning them both around. The muzzle stabbed at her chest; she leaned away from the gun and rammed into him even harder. Another shot exploded into the air as they both went down. His head hit the counter, making a solid thump as his neck twisted sharply. They crashed to the cold tile floor. The air grunted out of her lungs. Eva was still squeezing his balls when she realized he was no longer moving.

  Disentangling herself from him, she scooted a few feet away. His eyes blinked, once, twice…he mumbled something she couldn’t comprehend.

  Eva scrambled to her feet and backed toward the door. She should reach for his weapon…she should grab it and run…

  The door burst inward, almost knocking her on top of the man on the floor.

  Another of the gunmen stared first at her and then at the man on the floor whose fly was flared open with his erect penis poked out.

  Before Eva could speak the man grabbed her by the hair with his left hand and the gun in his right shoved into her face. “What did you do to him?”

  Shaking so hard now she could hardly speak, she somehow managed to say, “He tried to rape me, so I pushed him away and he fell…he hit his head.”

  The man shoved her to the floor. She landed on her knees. “Help him,” he snarled.

  Eva moved closer to her attacker. His eyes were open but he didn’t look at her. When she touched his neck to measure his pulse he mumbled but his words were unintelligible. Pulse was rapid. His body abruptly tensed. Seizure. Damn.

  “We need to get him into the ER now.” She pushed to her feet. “He may have a serious head injury.”

  The man grabbed her by the hair once more and jerked her face to his. “Do you know what you’ve done?”

  A new stab of terror sank deep into her chest. “He attacked me. I was trying—”

  “If he dies,” he snarled, the muzzle boring into her cheek, “you die.”

  Suddenly the gun went upward. His arm twisted violently. A pop echoed in the room. Not a gunshot…a bone…

  The man howled in agony. His body was hurled toward the floor. He landed on the unforgiving tile next to his friend.

  Eva wheeled around, readied to scream but swallowed back the sound as she recognized Dr. Devon Pierce, the Edge creator and administrator.

  “Check the corridor,” he ordered. “If it’s clear, go to my office and hide. I’ve got this.” The man on the floor scrambled to get up and Pierce kicked him hard in the gut.

  When Eva hesitated, he snarled, “Go!”

  She eased the bathroom door open and checked the corridor. Clear. She slipped out of the room, the door closed behind her, cutting of the grunts and awful keening inside. Her first instinct was to return to the ER to see if her help was needed there, but Dr. Pierce had told her to hide in his office. She didn’t know what he was doing here but she assumed he was aware somehow of all that had happened. Perhaps the emergency protocol automatically notified him or maybe he had been in his office working late. Bottom line, he was the boss.

  She hurried along the corridor, took a right into another side hall past the storeroom and the file rooms. Fear pounded in her veins as she moved into the atrium. Pierce’s office was beyond the main lobby. She held her breath as she hurried through an open area. When she reached his secretary’s office and the small, private lobby she dared to breathe, then she closed herself in his office. The desk lamp was on. Apparently Pierce had been in his office working. She reached for her cell.

  Before she could put through a call to her sister, she heard rustling outside the door. The roar of her own blood deafening in h
er ears, Eva glanced quickly around the room. She had to hide. Fast!

  With no other option she ducked under his desk, squeezed as far beneath it as she could, folding her knees up to her chin and holding herself tight and small.

  A soft swoosh of air warned the door of the administrator’s office had opened.

  She held her breath.

  The intruder—maybe Pierce, maybe a cop—moved around the room. She had no intention of coming out of hiding until she knew for certain. The sound of books sliding across shelves and frames banging against the wall clarified that the intruder was neither Pierce nor a cop. Footfalls moved closer to her position. She needed to breathe. She pressed her face to her knees and dared to draw in a small breath. Black leather shoes and gray trousers appeared behind the desk. Her eyes widened with the dread spreading inside her.

  Definitely male.

  The man dropped into the leather executive chair and reached for the middle drawer of the desk. His rifling through the drawer contents gave her the opportunity to breathe again. He moved on to the next drawer, the one on his right. More of that rummaging. Then he reached lower, for the final drawer on that side. She prayed he wouldn’t bend down any lower because he would certainly see her.

  She held her breath again. He shifted to access the drawers on the other side, and his foot came within mere centimeters of her hip. He searched through the three remaining drawers. Then he stood. Sharp movement across the blotter pad told her he was writing something. Finally, he moved away from the desk.

  The door opened and then closed.

  Eva counted to thirty before she dared to move. She scooted from under the desk and scanned the room. She was alone. Thank God. The books and framed awards and photos on the once neatly arranged shelves lay scattered about. Her gaze instinctively dropped to the desk.

  I know what you did.

  The words were scrawled on the clean expanse of white blotter paper. For ten or more seconds she couldn’t move. She should go…get out of this office. Whatever that—she stared at the note—was about, she didn’t want to get dragged into it. The men who had stormed the ER had all been wearing jeans or cargo pants, not dress trousers and certainly not leather loafers. Just go!

  At the door, she eased it open and checked the administrator’s private lobby. Clear. She’d almost made it out of the secretary’s office when she heard hurried footfalls in the corridor. Renewed panic roared through her veins.

  With nowhere else to go, she ducked under the secretary’s desk.

  The footfalls moved across the carpeted floor. She heard the sound of Pierce’s office door opening. The man was popular tonight. Had the guy who’d written the note forgotten something?

  A soft curse came from the general direction of Pierce’s office.

  Eva hoped SWAT was ready to storm the place. She would hate to survive a bunch of crazed thugs or gangbangers or whatever they were and be murdered by a man wearing dress trousers and black leather shoes.

  “Eva!”

  For a moment she couldn’t breathe.

  “Eva!”

  Dr. Pierce. She scrambled out from under the desk. “Yes, sir. I’m here.”

  Fury or outrage—something on that order—colored his face. “The police are here. They’ll need your statement.”

  Thank God. “Is everyone okay? The gunmen have been contained?”

  He nodded, then frowned. “I thought you were going to hide in my office.”

  She shrugged and in that instant something about the expression on his face made her decide to keep what happened in his office to herself. “I heard someone coming. I freaked and hid under the secretary’s desk.”

  “Someone came in here?”

  He had to know someone had. He couldn’t have missed the disarray in his office or the note on his desk.

  She nodded. “I couldn’t see what was happening, but I definitely heard footsteps and the door to your office opening and closing.”

  “You didn’t get a look at who it was?”

  She shook her head. Was that suspicion she heard in his voice?

  When he continued to stare at her without saying more, she offered, “Is everything okay?”

  “Yes.” He smiled, rearranging his face into the amiable expression he usually wore. “It is now. Come with me. We should get this police business squared away so we can return to the business of healing the sick.”

  The walk back to the emergency department was the longest of her life. She could feel his tension in every step he took. She wanted to ask him again if everything was okay but she didn’t dare stir his suspicions.

  Right now all she wanted was for this night to be over.

  Don’t miss FINDING THE EDGE by USA TODAY bestselling author Debra Webb, available in Mary 2018 wherever Harlequin Intrigue Books® books and ebooks are sold.

  www.harlequin.com

  Copyright © 2018 by Debra Webb

  ISBN-13: 9781488099298

  A Hero to Hold

  First published as A Hero to Hold by Silhouette Intimate Moments in 2001

  This edition published in 2018

  Copyright © 2001 by Linda Castillo.

  All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 22 Adelaide St. West, 40th Floor Toronto, ON M5H 4E3, Canada.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  ® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.

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