Page 99 of When He Hunts

A woman’s limp body that he slung over his shoulder and began carrying away from the plane.

A woman who didn’t fight him. Who didn’t struggle at all. A woman—sweet hell,no.A woman who was dead?

A woman…who was his Luna because the sonofafucker carrying her had just walked in front of a runway light. Luna’s dark hair slid away from her face. Her eyes were closed. Her face slack.

A roar built in his throat, and Ronan broke from Kane and Gray as he lunged for his wife.

Chapter Twenty-Three

“She’s not dead,”Kane rasped as he locked his arms around Ronan’s waist and yanked him back.

And she wasn’t.

Luna had just twisted and heaved and lunged to the side and broken free of her abductor’s grip.Good fucking job, princess.She staggered briefly, and then she was running away from the creep. A creep who’d fallen to his knees because she’d managed to kick him in the groin and elbow him in the face during her escape.

She was running right for the waiting hangar.Running right for me.Only his dumbass friends were holding him back. What the hell was that about? And then?—

“I will fucking shoot you!” A bellow from the freaking pianist. Because that was the man who’d had her. The man who was now aiming a gun at her fleeing back.

Why was the place so deserted? The storm? Bullshit. Others should be out on the runway. Security personnel who’d been inside. This madness should not be going down.

Not unless someone wants the scene playing out this way.

“Let me go or die,” Ronan told his friends. Because if they thought he was just going to stand there and watch Luna get shot…

She’d stopped. Her back was to the piano player. Slowly, she turned toward him. “My husband…”

I’m right here, princess.

And he realized that Gray had drawn his weapon. He’d taken aim at the piano player.

“My husband is going to kick your ass,” she promised the fucking piano player. “Then he’ll probably wind up feeding you to the gators.”

The pilot had climbed from the plane. He was walking slowly behind the piano player. Cameron. Harris had told him the pianist was named Cameron.

“Shoot the prick,” Ronan ordered Gray. “Now.” Before the fool pianist pulled his trigger on Luna.

“We need him alive for the hand-off,” Gray groused. “He’s not going to shoot her. My guy said Marcus wants to handle her himself.”

His…guy? And then it made more sense. Gray and his schemes. Shit.

The pilot was almost right on top of Cameron. And the pilot was pulling out a weapon…

Cameron spun around. With zero hesitation, he just fired.

The pilot went down.

Gray’s hold slackened. Ronan flew from his friends and hurtled toward Luna even as Cameron laughed in the rain and turned back toward her with his gun aimed and up and—Ronan shoved her out of the way. She never saw him coming. He pushed her to safety and leapt at Cameron even as the sonofafucker was firing.

On the damn runway.

In a place that should have been so secure and safe.

With federal agentsrightthere.

Ronan felt the bullet blaze over his arm. He didn’t care. He hit Cameron. The piano player fell back and landed onto the runway. Ronan sprang down at him. His fist slammed into Cameron’s face over and over again.

Cameron tried to swing up his gun.

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