Page 54 of Broken Love

I fast-forward the tape, watching as Caleb enters the back of the shop. Lilah confronts her at the counter. Every second brings me closer to despair, knowing that I’m about to see one of two possible conclusions: A — that Caleb was defeated and kidnapped, or B — that Lilah made me a widower. Neither option will make me happy, but one will definitely make me more pissed off than the other.

The fight begins. I can’t help but smile at the reminder that Caleb is a fucking badass. Sure, she’s beautiful and feminine and all that good stuff but that’s not what made me hard for her in the first place. It was the warrior in her that did that. There’s something undeniably sexy about a woman who can pin a full-grown man against the wall and make him beg for his mommy.

My heart sinks as a dark shadow enters in through the back and sneaks up behind her. Caleb had Lilah on the damn floor and Elijah just swoops in — that fucking bastard.

Fuck. I should have stayed. This would have been a fair fight if I had.

Caleb collapses into his arms and my rage wins.

Fuck this shit.

I’m getting my wife back.

Chapter 16

Boxcar

I’ve got the drive. I’ve got the determination.

Most of all, I’ve got Caleb Fawn’s secret back room to arm myself with.

The Harts probably didn’t even realize it was here and Caleb was smart enough not to draw Lilah’s attention toward it during their fight.

I walk inside and breathe in that old, nostalgic smell of assault rifles and gunpowder. I flick on the light to see guns lined along the walls.

A lot of guns.

Oh, Ms. Fawn. You haven’t changed at all, baby.

The alleyway door opens and closes.

I freeze, sensing hard boots tapping against the hallway floor. I scan for the nearest available weapon and my lips twitch at the sight of Caleb’s “special occasion” gun: her Model 60 Smith & Wesson revolver, obviously returned to her since Fox and Dani’s cross-country excursion a few weeks back. She never let me even hold it before and there’s no way I’m going to pass up the opportunity now.

I grab it off the wall and confirm it’s loaded as the boots step further inside the shop.

The Harts must have come back. Maybe they saw me go inside and decided to come finish me off. I won’t make it that easy, that’s for sure.

As I prepare to leap out, my heart stops in my chest. Every man has imagined themselves in this situation before. Guns drawn with the villain in their sights. A very grateful damsel hanging on their arm.

But no one really thinks about how terrifying it is.

Crap, I’m gonna die.

I take a breath, forcing the crippling doubt away before standing up and pointing my gun at the dark figure lingering around the shop.

“Hold it.” I lock my body, refusing to let it tremble. “Let me see your hands.”

The man pauses and his arms slowly rise in surrender. He’s much too tall to be Elijah Hart. He’s dressed very differently in a bold leather jacket and black jeans.

“Turn around,” I tell him.

He obeys and shifts to face me while I ease forward to get a better look at him. He’s clean-shaven with trimmed, blond hair and bright, blue eyes like he’s out of a goddamn fairy tale or something.

As I step closer, he sighs and drops his hands.

I twitch. “Hey, put them back up—”

“I’m not here for you, mate,” he says, his voice sharp with a thick, English accent. “You can drop your piece.”

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