Page 142 of Fiery Romance

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I paddownstairs and begin my ritual of checking that every window and door in the house is locked.

One minor mistake can lead to a devastating disaster. I learned that lesson in the military and carried it with me into life as a civilian.

Nothing in this world is impenetrable. Humans are creative, especially when it comes to breaking laws. If someone wants to sneak into my house and rob me blind, they can—even with all my security alarms, cameras, and locks. But it makes no sense to make it easy for them.

I’m rattling the balcony doorknob when my phone pings with an alert.

Someone just pulled up to the driveway.

My eyebrows furrow. I wait, still and tense, as the car door opens and a woman walks out.

Island?

Why is she here?

I peer closer at the screen. She hurries out of her car, almost stumbling on the way. Frantically, she sprints toward my front door.

She must be in trouble.

My heart wrenches painfully.

I break out into a run.

During our last conversation, she made her stance pretty freaking clear. She couldn’t even look at me when Regan brought out the cake for her date.

What changed?

I flip to the worst-case scenario. Did that Byron-jerk touch her? Did he force himself on her?

My blood pools with fury. It snaps and crackles through me, tearing apart my rational mind.

If Byron put one finger on Island, I’m going to tear him limb from useless limb.

Like dynamite, I blast the door open just as Island coils her fingers to knock.

My eyes sweep her comfortable sleep shirt, shorts and fuzzy slippers. Her face is bare of makeup. Her hair is thrown into a bun with braids sticking haphazardly out of it.

She ran here.

In distress.

I’m going to kill him.

I pulse forward. My hands cup her soft cheeks and I tilt her face to the porch lights.

“Did he hurt you?” I growl.

The venom in my voice makes her pause. I see her stop, jaw slacking, eyes widening a bit. She watches me like she’s never seen me before.

But I don’t have time for her hesitation. I simply need to know how far Byron went in order to decide how I will dispose of his body. Whether his corpse will remain in one piece or whether it will be left in the desert for vultures to feast on depends on her words.

“What?” Island hisses.

My breath escapes slowly. I can hear each of my heartbeats. The adrenaline is familiar. It’s similar to how I feel before a mission. Only this is a step further.

This wrath is not for my country.

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