Page 56 of Island Protector

“Not a chance. I’ll be dreaming of you.” He bent his head to her ear. “The things I want to do with you aren’t all that sweet. “He nipped her earlobe, satisfied when she shivered. “Sleep well, Molly.” He loved the way her nose crinkled at that.

“Text me when you get home?” Her voice followed him down the steps.

“You got it.”

He was practically whistling as he walked away from the cottage and all they had done was make out a little. Outrageous but true. And he couldn’t wait to see her again. He might as well be floating down the street like a lovesick cartoon character. And he didn’t really mind. It felt right. Strange the way being with her filled him with a sense of belonging.

He was so deeply contemplating that, so lost in the wonder and warmth of holding her close, that he missed the first hint of trouble.

It was almost too late when the soft rustling of someone walking through pine straw registered in his brain.

He turned, and a blow aimed at the back of his head slid across his shoulder instead. He’d chosen the most direct route home and put himself in jeopardy.

On a curse, everything inside him switched to fighting mode. Throwing elbows and trying to land punches, he dodged the assault.

Only one attacker. Small mercy. Miles couldn’t see a weapon. Yet. The lighting sucked this close to the maritime forest that sheltered this side of the island from the ocean.

There was no point in running. Not much point in screaming for help either. He was better off trying to immobilize the guy until Knox showed up or one ofthe cops. If he was lucky, they could get a name, maybe an explanation for the attack.

“Did you trash my boat?” Miles shouted as he scrapped for any advantage. He took a blow to his jaw, a knee to his ribs. He fought back only to get tripped up by a sucker move that took him down hard. But when the guy came over him Miles twisted away and got to his feet.

The man had a dark, knit mask over his face and the hood of his black jacket pulled up, casting deeper shadows. It was impossible to pick out any distinguishing features, not even the color of his hair.

Miles noticed the gloves, also dark but not anything someone would wear for warmth or grip. More like the disposable gloves used in kitchens. He figured his attacker was trying to avoid leaving evidence behind.

“What the hell do you want from me?”

The attacker didn’t answer, just charged him like a bull, driving him back into the trees. Miles lost his footing and he heard a sickening crack when he fell back over a broken log. Was it the tree or his body? He was too stunned to sort it out.

Expecting a killing strike or at least to be searched and robbed, Miles was shocked when the guy kicked him one last time in the ribs before running off.

Struggling to breathe, he stared up at the sky. Most of the starry landscape was hidden by the tree canopy. He figured it was a safe bet that somewhere high in those limbs, owls and squirrels were laughing at him.

Were bizarre, random thoughts like that a sign of shock? Probably so. He had to get out of here. Get home. Rolling to his hands and knees, he gasped. Everything hurt. And every breath felt like a thousand razors slicing him from the inside out.

Broken ribs? Check. Along with who knew what else.

Where the hell was Knox? What good was having a protective shadow if they didn’t show up during a crisis?

Desperate, listless, he patted his pockets in search of his phone. But the device wasn’t with him anymore. He was too weak to look for it now. Maybe the jerk had taken it. Which would make searching a waste of his waning energy.

Whoever attacked him, they’d picked a prime spot to strike. Dumb luck, good strategy, or someone who knew the island?

He’d have to let someone else figure it out. His only goal was to get out of here. Find help. Miles dragged himself closer to the street, praying someone would find him soon. If he could make the street, maybe he could get to the clinic.

He took a few more shaky steps, fell to his knees, and crawled. And then the beating took him under and he passed out.

Chapter Fourteen

Molly practically floatedthrough the next morning. Bryce had woken up in a great mood, eager to get to school and tell Joey all about boat picnics and constellations.

Although Miles hadn’t sent her a text about getting home, she forgave the oversight. Being clingy wasn’t the way she’d start her first real relationship with a decent man.

Instead, she kept rewinding last night, feeling like the star of every romantic song and book ever written. All those claims that a woman would recognize her Mr. Right as soon as he kissed her suddenly seemed valid.

The way Miles kissed—as if he couldn’t get close enough—she was sure this was the real deal. Her experience was limited, but she was confident he’d wrecked her for other kisses. Her heart was in every thought, every moment, whether they were together or apart.

And maybe she was jumping the gun a little, but she wasn’t about to second-guess everything just because he didn’t text her as promised.

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