Page 88 of Anchor Point

She landed hard on her knees and scrambled back to her feet.

“Rosie,” I screamed.

She whipped her head in my direction. “Mom!”

I bolted as fast as I had ever run. To her. My baby girl.

A man stumbled out of the building behind her, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Rosie changed direction, leading him further out of the building.

“You little bitch,” he growled, running and reaching, nearly catching her by the shirt.

He heard my footfalls just as I leaped into the air, shoving my feet toward him in the most epic side kick I’d ever done.

We landed, and I screamed for Rosie to run.

Beside me, the man rolled from his back to his side, then rose on hands and knees.

“Thoren,” I gasped, heaving myself upright, trying to catch the breath I’d knocked out of myself when I hit the ground.

He pushed to stand. “Wrong brother, bitch. But I like how you think.”

Thoren was a twin. The realization stunned me. His first punch was unexpected. He got in that one good shot, and then I turned my righteous fury loose on him. I pummeled him, throwing everything I had into smashing the bastard who had hurt my daughter—hurt my people.

With a roundhouse kick that caught him across the jaw, we both went sprawling in a duet of grunts.

I recovered first, scooted over, and landed on him, hard. I planted my knee in his back, wrenched his arm behind him with one hand, and clenched a fistful of hair with the other. “You son of a bitch,” I screamed, yanking up and back until he cried out in pain.

“Get off me, bitch,” he growled.

I wanted nothing more than to smash his face into the ground.

“Easy, Chief.” Around me, voices started filtering in, lowering the red haze my vision had become.

“On your left.”

Mike Harrison. One of mine.

I relaxed my pose slightly and realized I was snarling.

“I got it from here, Chief.” Mike placed his hand over mine, allowing me to release my grip.

I looked up into his warm brown eyes.

It was over. We’d stopped him.

Other hands slipped under my elbow, helping me stand. I stared back at the man who’d done so much damage to our town, to my family. Mike snapped handcuffs on Loren Watkins— arson suspect, murder suspect, and attempted kidnapper.

“Liv.” Mac’s choked voice cut through my stunned daze. I found him standing off to the side with our shaken daughter wrapped around his torso, his thick, strong arms holding her safe.

And on legs that felt like jelly, I stumbled to them.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Mac

I’d been standing with Thoren and Nate, waiting to give direction to the medics on which hospital to take Cal, Burgess, and Mo to, surrounded by a mix of concerned PD and FD crews, when a radio call-out sounded from the PD radios.

“911, NPD. Respond to the area behind First Baptist Church. Possible abduction in progress. Fourteen-year-old female, unknown male. Caller states she thinks she saw them in the area.”

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