Page 81 of King of Pain

The voice makes me stop cold. That is not Luke.

Spinning, I gasp in a breath. Guerriero stands in the bathroom door looking at me like I’m some kind of snack and he’s starving.

I take a step back, bumping into the countertop. I try to scream but no sound comes out.

His eyes run up and down me, the only thing covering my body… Luke’s T-shirt.

“Luke,” it comes out a hoarse whisper. But then I get it out a second time, louder. “Luke!”

Guerriero gives me a wick smile. “No use.”

I tear my gaze from his, long enough to see the glass jar full of cotton balls on the counter.

Not giving myself a chance to change my mind, I pick it up and throw it at Guerriero. He easily deflects it, but it crashes to the tile floor, smashing into a thousand tiny pieces.

Was it loud enough?

I hope so. Because I’m in bare feet and the floor is now covered in glass…

Guerriero keeps walking. When he’s close enough, I try to dart around him but it’s no use.

He reaches out a hand, grabbing my arm, the other wrapping around my throat.

My eyes go wide as he squeezes. “You big problem.”

“Me?” I gasp out. “You.”

He gives me another cold smile. “I big. Yes.”

Is he talking about what I think he is? I don’t have a chance to be upset, I’m too busy trying to breathe as he squeezes harder.

My eyes bulge as I try to breathe but I’m losing, and my knees weaken as I sink to the floor.

“Sleep,” he whispers leaning close. “When you wake we’ve got?—”

But he doesn’t finish.

I catch a flash before Luke is on him, snapping the man’s head back.

I hear a crack before the hand at my throat goes limp. I don’t have a chance to be relieved as I collapse into a heap, gasping for breath. Luke scoops me into his arms, carrying me across the glass. I can’t even imagine what I look like.

“Is he dead?” I croak out.

“No,” Luke whispers against my temple, even as security personnel flood into the room.

“I’m so sorry,” one of them skids to a stop as the rest flood into the bathroom. “He knocked out one of the men on the perimeter. Scaled the balcony.” He points to the open French door.

Luke gently sets me on the bed and tosses a blanket over me, then turns back and whispers to the men.

I have no idea what he’s saying, and I don’t care.

Gently, I feel my own throat, testing for swelling, swallowing to assess the damage. Bruising only, I think.

The phone rings but Luke doesn’t answer. Instead, his weight settles on the bed next to me. “Just keep the covers over yourface for a few more seconds, love, and then we can check you over.”

“I’m fine,” I rasp out, my voice hoarse.

His hand settles on my hip. I hear the room clear and then he pulls the covers off of me.

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