Page 21 of Her Remarkable Protector

The door flies open, and a figure bursts out. “Leave him alone!” the woman commands. “Get out while you can!”

Honor Deveraux. It’s not the weapon in her hand that nearly throws me—it’s her gaze.

8

HONOR

Un-fucking-believable.

He’s here. Chase Samson.

No change of name. No attempt to erase himself. I didn’t even have to chase him. He has walked straight into my territory. And my God—he’s a presence and a half. Strikingly handsome, the kind of man who looks like he was born to save the day.

I’m pretty sure he was one of the two men I spotted sniffing around Great Falls. He was at a distance, but damn it—I should’ve known then.

Mira Stone sent him, didn’t he say? So the Circle still has him on their leash.

“Honor Deveraux?” His voice is smooth. Like I’m a Chihuahua yapping at a guest, not a woman holding a gun.

I lift my chin, unblinking. “You’re talking to her.”

“Put the gun down, ma’am. We can talk about this.”

Talk.I’ve got to hand it to him—he’s calm.

Back in Kalispell, I called him ‘Junior.’ Big for his age, torn between good and evil, but in the end decided to take a life. But now? There’s nothing junior about him. Late twenties. Broad as a bull. King Kong confidence.

But those eyes? Grayish blue—which I prefer to call stormy sky. Watching me now, hard and unrelenting. No flicker of recognition.

My finger tenses. This is it. Twelve years of imagining this moment, the weight of justice—my justice—bearing down on me. The trigger burns beneath my touch, loaded with choice.

“Put the gun down!” the younger man barks, stepping forward. Unlike his partner, his Glock remains at the ready. Ethan, I think I heard his name is—just a shadow backing up Chase’s towering figure. His sunglasses hide his face, leaving his expression unreadable.

Chase doesn’t flinch, his gun still holstered. Insulting.

His gaze pins me in place. He doesn’t recognize me—not a bit. To him, I’m just another criminal. A kidnapper. His mission is to apprehend me, to “save” Oakley. He doesn’t see me, not anymore. Maybe he never really did.

But my finger refuses to move further. If I shoot Chase, Ethan will take me out. Then what? Oakley will be left alone. And my baby?

A fissure of fear grips my throat, but I force it down.

And then—pain. It cuts through me like a blade, searing and sudden. I gasp, my knees buckling, the gun slipping from my grip as I clutch my belly.

My body betrays me, forcing the choice I’m too afraid to make.

“Honor!” Oakley rushes to my side in a panic. “Is the baby coming?”

Chase steps forward in a controlled rush. “Ms. Deveraux, are you okay?”

Those eyes—damn them. Still as devastating as they were all those years ago. Concern flashes there, swirling with something softer, something I refuse to name. But I can’t forget who he is.Whathe is. A killer I’ve sworn to destroy.

For now, though, Chase Samson will live another day—and maybe a few more. Like it or not, I need him. Survival means compartmentalizing, and it’s time to start. I force open the box I locked him in years ago—the one labeledProtector. The only moment he’s ever earned that title.

As a kid, the only currency I understood was pain and joy. That man never gave me joy—not once. He gave me the worst pain imaginable, the loss of my parents. But he also kept me from the pain of a bullet hole. In that moment, the currency shifted, became more complicated. I learned there’s a vast space between pain and joy—one of those things being safety.

Now, caught in the grip of a different kind of pain, I hate to admit it—I need him. And the stakes are higher this time. It’s not just me. It’s my baby. It’s Oakley.

“Don’t hurt her!” Oakley cries, shoving himself between us. His small arms spread wide, as if he could shield me from a man three times his size.

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