Page 91 of The Healer

He laughed. “I love how irresistible you find me, Lona-love. Want me to ease the ache between your thighs before I drift off?”

She gasped, her core twanging with eagerness. “No.” Softening her tone, she clenched the steering wheel. She was stronger than this. “You were right. I need time to…recover.”

Meeting her gaze in the rearview mirror, she narrowed her eyes and glared. She was a Devereaux Strickland and made of sterner stuff. With a curt nod, she faced forward. Time to prove it.

“Sleep. I’ve got this.” Digging in the pocket of the door with one hand on the steering wheel, she plugged her earbuds into her phone and chose more upbeat music. The miles sped by against an eclectic mix of sixties to eighties beats. The night sky darkened to ink black, and by the time she stopped to refuel, a few more hours had passed.

Rhys slept on. She pumped the gas, then hurried inside the store, eager for a coffee and something sweet and gooey. While she poured two grande coffees, shoving extra sachets of sugar into her back pocket, agitated talking snagged her attention. Leaving the coffees on the counter, she peered over the rows of shelves at the hooded man in front of the till. He had left his blue truck running with its lights on.

“Gimme the cash,” he hissed.

Lona bit her lip to stifle a gasp. Unfucking believable. Couldn’t he have waited five minutes? The clerk stiffened, his dreadlocks falling across his wide, angry eyes.

Shit.

She ran her gaze alone the aisle. Just candy bars, and oh, something gooey. Taking a few bars, she shoved them into her back pocket and crouch-walked to the next aisle. What she needed was something sharp…like a pen. She slowly peeled the cheap pen from its wrapper and crouch-crept closer to the robber.

Rhys was going to kill her for this.

She lunged, growling when a candy bar fell out of her back pocket. A kick to the man’s knee brought him down, and his phone flew out of his hand, flipping into the air to skid across the linoleum floor. But she pinned him with a knee on his sternum and the pen at his internal carotid artery.

“Quit moving. Once I penetrate your neck, you bleed to death in minutes.”

The man stilled.

The clerk ducked for something behind the counter.

Ilona kept her focus on the man…a youngster, no more than seventeen.

“This way lies death.” She sucked in a sharp breath. “I’ve seen too many your age die of knife or gun wounds.”

“Who the fuck are you, lady?” The boy wriggled, and she pressed the pen’s nib in. He froze.

It would take a stab to penetrate his skin, but he didn’t know that.

“I’m a doctor.” She smiled, patting his shoulder. “Choose a different path or die young. Your choice.”

“I didn’t fucking ask for career guidance.”

She arched a brow. “And how many old folks in your line of business do you know?”

A shotgun loading whipped her head to the clerk behind the counter. He had the damn thing aimed at her, as well.

She sighed. “Listen…,” she read his name off his tag, “Tommy, did you at least call the police?”

He shook his head. “I can’t. He’s my brother.”

“Well, fuck me, James.”

All gazes spun to the door where Rhys leaned against the frame with his long legs crossed at the ankles. He folded his arms, and that slow sensual smile she couldn’t get enough of crawled across his lips. She loved that he had taken on Evie’s curse phrase, but now wasn’t the time to moon over him.

“What are you doing, Lona?”

She glanced between the two boys. “Not saving the day?”

“With a pen?” Rhys chuckled.

At that husky sound, she swore her ovaries leaped to life.

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