Page 4 of Stalked By the Navy Seal

I step closer to them, my fists hanging by my side, ready to send him six feet under. “I’m making it my business. Now, unhand her.”

“I don’t know who you think you are, but—” he doesn’t finish that sentence as my right fist makes contact with his face, knocking out about two of his teeth.

He shoves her roughly to the ground, and I grab his coat and punch him again and again until his face is a bloodied mess.

I’m about to deliver the last devastating blow when someone grabs my hand. “That’s enough. Please…”

It’s her, and she’s touching me, looking at me with those blue eyes that had me under their spell from the very first time I saw them. And now that I’m seeing them up close and personal, they are even more beautiful than I thought.

All the rage in my body evaporates like smoke, and my hand, which is still fisting the lean man’s coat, loosens, letting him fall to the ground.

Not caring if the asshole is still breathing or not, I turn to her and cup her fragile face in-between my palms. “Are you okay?”

She nods, the terror in her eyes as they dart to the man on the ground, clear as day.

At that moment, it dawns on me that he’s the one she’s been running from and is currently terrified of. The urge to snap his neck like a twig returns, but I push it down. My only concern is the fragile looking woman standing in front of me.

“Who are you?” she asks, her eyes frantically searching mine.

“Someone who will make sure he never hurts you, ever again.”

I see relief wash over her delicate features for a second before she falls forward into my arms and starts sobbing hysterically.

As I stand there, holding her as she cries, I realize with a chilling finality that I’ll never be able to let her go.

Chapter Three

Riley

I’m still in a daze and shaking like a leaf in the wind when the stranger who came to my aid picks up the things I bought from the store that had fallen to the ground. He slowly walks me over to a car parked on the other side of the road.

Opening the passenger’s side, he tries to help me get in, and I wince from the pain shooting down my sides. I hit the ground pretty roughly when my stepfather shoved me to the sidewalk. From the immensity of the pain, I’m afraid I may have broken a bone or maybe two.

Big arms wrap around me and gently guide me into the car before crossing over me to fasten my seatbelt. I catch a whiff of the lemony scent of the man’s hair, probably from his shampoo, before he closes the door, walks over to the driver’s side, and gets in.

For the first time since he came to my rescue, I finally get a good look at him as his huge frame settles into the driver’s seat. By society’s standards, he is a handsome man with a square-shaped face and a well-defined and clean-shaven chin featuring a prominent and strong jaw.

My eyes fall to his large arms, which were just wrapped around me a few minutes ago. I’d be blind not to notice the muscles rippling across them with every movement he makes as he tries to start the car.

From where the sleeve of his T-shirt stops on his right arm, I can see a black and red tattoo that looks like the talons of a bird peeping out.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice deep as a bass drum rolling over me. I find myself struggling to form a coherent sentence with his gray, steely eyes fixed on mine.

I swallow hard. “I think so.”

“Let’s get you back to the Riverside Motel before the cops show up. I’m pretty sure someone has called them already.”

As he pushes the shifter into drive and enters the nearly empty street, I start to ask him how he knows that I’m staying at the Riverside Motel, but I stop myself because I don’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth.

The truth is that if he hadn’t stepped in when he did, my stepfather would’ve driven me home, beaten me ‘til about half an inch of my life, and locked me up ‘til Deadeye Dante came to take me as his prisoner or whatever the hell they were calling it.

I would have been lucky if he even fed me while I was locked up, but this tattooed stranger currently driving me to my hideout for the past two days, saved me from that fate. I should be thanking him, not questioning him, at least for now.

Besides, I can’t put my finger on it, but something about him makes me feel warm and safe. It’s strange that I feel this way, considering we just met, but I feel like I can trust him with my life.

“We’re here,” he says as he pulls the car to a stop in front of the motel before turning to face me. “I know you’re in pain, but you must try to walk past the receptionist’s desk without showing it. If she suspects you’re hurt, she might call the police. Who knows what could happen if they show up here? Do you think you can handle that?”

I nod in agreement. “Yes, I can.”

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