Page 24 of Her Remarkable Protector

The car jerks to a stop outside the hospital, and Chase is out before I can register it, rounding to my side like he’s been doing this his whole life. “Come on, we’re here. Can you walk?”

I try to answer, but all that escapes is his name. “Chase…”

He doesn’t hesitate. His arms sweep me up, lifting me, like I’m something precious. Me, the baby inside me, and the storm of panic I’m trying to swallow whole. His strength surrounds me, a wall against the fear inside.

“I need some help here!” he calls out, his voice booming.

The medical staff swarm us, efficient but detached, peeling me from his arms.

I should feel safe with these nurses. I should. But I don’t. I feel exposed—vulnerable in a way that has nothing to do with my body and everything to do with the man still standing at the edge of the chaos, watching, ready to let me go.

I reach for him without thinking, my fingers grabbing hold of his hand. “Swear to me,” I choke out, my voice splintering under the weight of it all. “Swear Damon Stone will never get near my baby. Do you hear me?”

“Yes.” His voice is low.

“Swear it!” I demand, my grip like iron.

“I swear,” he says, and this time his other hand closes gently over mine, sealing the promise like a vow.

The stretcher jolts forward, the world moving too fast. I don’t want to let go, but my body is done fighting. Exhaustion swallows me, but not before I let myself believe him. For the first time in years, I trust someone.

And it terrifies me.

But for now—for just this moment—it’s what I have.

9

CHASE

I pace back and forth, from the waiting room to the lobby, and back again.

What the hell just happened? Honor Deveraux didn’t just stroll into my life—she stormed in, kicked the door down, and made herself at home.

She’s feisty. She’s drop-dead gorgeous. Damn it, even her photo had me hooked before I could admit it to myself. But now? Now she’s in surgery, and all I can think about is how she clung to my hand, pleading, vulnerable, like I was the only person she had in the world.

It’s messing with my head. No—my heart. Red Mark doesn’t forbid getting emotionally invested in a case, within reason. But this?

Saving a kid in danger, keeping my comrades alive—that’s where my heart’s always been. But this feels… new. Like my heart sprouted a twin. And that twin doesn’t play by the old rules of Chase Samson.

Women have always been a revolving door in my life—mutual agreements, nothing heavy. A ‘see where it goes’ kind of thing. No grand declarations, no messy breakups. Clean. Simple. But Honor? She’s rewritten the damn script. The deeper I dive into this case—when I should be proving that attachment isn’t my thing—the harder it is to untangle myself from her. It’s like my new, cloned heart has grown Velcro and latched onto her.

Honor Deveraux, the woman I’m supposed to bring to justice, has become the one person I can’t seem to let go of. And the crazy thing? I’m not sure I want to.

I arrive at the lobby—for what feels like the hundredth time. My nerves are shot, my mind spinning, and I’m about to start pacing again when a man stumbles in, almost tripping over his own desperation.

“Honor Deveraux. She’s my wife. Is she here?”

Heads turn, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Hold on, Mr. Deveraux,” the receptionist says.

My skin tightens, and every muscle coils like I’m ready to spring. That’s her husband? That sure isn’t Damon Stone!

She lied to me?

“I’m Charlie Deveraux,” he says, breathless but forceful. “I came from out of town, and she’s not home. It’s her due date today!”

“Ms. Deveraux—I mean, Mrs. Deveraux—is still in surgery,” the receptionist replies carefully.

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