Protective Instincts by Shirlee McCoy

Author:Shirlee McCoy
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2014-11-13T05:00:00+00:00

ELEVEN

Jackson pulled up behind Officer Wallace’s police car and jumped out of the SUV, bypassing an old blue Jeep as he followed Wallace across the yard. Thank the Lord he’d insisted on driving his own vehicle to the police station. Otherwise, he’d have had to find another way of getting to Raina.

He didn’t think Wallace would have been amused if he’d hot-wired a car.

“Go back to your vehicle,” Wallace yelled, but Jackson had no intention of obeying orders.

He’d played along, answered a million questions about a crime he’d had nothing to do with. He was done playing. Raina was in trouble, and he wasn’t counting on anyone but himself to get her out of it.

“I said—”

“Let’s split up. You take the left. I’ll take the right,” Jackson cut him off.

“I don’t like this, Miller. You get hurt, it’s on your head. You get Raina hurt, and I’ll throw your butt in jail and let you rot there,” Wallace muttered, but he headed to the left and eased around the corner of the house.

Jackson moved to the right. His Glock had been confiscated at the police station, but he’d faced worse situations without it. Not an ideal scenario, but he’d make it work.

A saggy wraparound porch butted up against faded wood siding, mature trees growing so close to the house that their branches touched the windows. He stepped out from their shadows, scanning the backyard, Officer Wallace in his periphery. Raina was somewhere nearby. She had to be. That she’d been kidnapped again, was being held against her will again, wasn’t something he wanted to contemplate.

He stepped farther into the yard, spotted what looked like a pile of fabric near the trunk of an old tree. No. Not fabric. Jeans. A coat. White-blond hair.

“Raina!” he shouted, sprinting toward her.

She sat up slowly as he reached her side, her eyes glazed, blood dripping down her forehead. He pulled off his coat, pressing the sleeve against her forehead.

“Ouch!” She batted at his hand, but he held firm.

“You’re bleeding.”

“You’re going to be bleeding, too, if you don’t stop adding to my headache,” she mumbled, some of the color returning to her face.

“Are you threatening me, Raina?” he asked, sliding his free arm around her waist, relief coursing through him.

“I might be,” she muttered. “I get grumpy when I’m in pain.”

“Good to know.” He pulled his coat away from her forehead, eyed the shallow gash. “I don’t think you’re going to need stitches.”

“Also good to know,” she responded with a slight smile.

“You might have a scar, though.”

“I’d rather have the kind that can be seen than the kind that can’t be.” Her eyes drifted closed, and his heart jerked with fear. He’d watched people die from wounds that seemed minor, and he wasn’t going to let that happen to Raina.

“How is she?” Wallace crouched beside him, his jaw tight, his expression grim. “I’ve already called for an ambulance.”

“I don’t need an ambulance.” Raina’s head came up like a shot, all the color that had returned to her face gone.

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