Page 54 of Boss Me

I scrambled to my feet—or tried to. My ankle ignited when I put weight on it. I leaned against a tree for relief, but pain shot through my shoulder. Fuck!

Still, I was in better shape than the dude on the ground. He flailed his arms toward Coco, who had a death grip on his leg. One of his ham hands smacked the back of Coco’s head, but the dog didn’t budge. If we didn’t get out of there, both of us were going to end up seriously injured.

I pushed off the tree and limped a few feet toward Cooper’s bungalow. “Coco, let go. Come.”

Did feral dogs know commands? Did Coco speak English? I hobbled another step and gestured with my not-aching arm. “Come, Coco.”

Releasing the man’s leg, he leaped over him and bounded ahead of me on the path to Cooper’s, barking an alarm. The man moaned, but no way was I going back to check on him. I limped behind Coco as fast as I could. Why hadn’t I thought to pick up some mace after the TSA confiscated mine at the airport?

The island had seemed so safe. The resort staff looked out for me. And I hadn’t seen so much as a panhandler since I’d left the city with the airport. This beautiful island where even the wild dogs were friendly had lulled me into a false sense of security.

Either I hadn’t realized how far I’d gotten from Cooper’s or my slow pace made the path stretch out into eternity. It seemed to take hours to get back to his place. Every few steps, I turned my head to peer over my shoulder to see if the attacker was following, but I saw nothing. Heard nothing but the sound of the surf and the chirp of the coquis.

At last, Cooper’s house came into view. Coco scratched at the front door, and it opened just as I dragged my aching leg up the step.

“Ben!” Cooper had changed into pajama pants, leaving the golden skin and the dark-honey hair of his chest exposed. “What’s wrong?”

I glanced behind me one more time and, seeing no movement from the path, hobbled the last few steps toward Cooper. My ankle, having gotten me this far, finally gave up, and I fell forward into him. He caught me, scooped an arm under my knees, and carried me inside.

I may have swooned.

20

COOPER

“Ben!” My heart hammered in my chest, beating through my ribs to get to the man on the couch. “Ben!” I knelt on the floor beside where he lay.

“I’m here,” he said, like I was the one who needed reassurance.

I did need reassurance. When he blinked open his eyes, I started to breathe again.

His cheek was red and abraded, and pieces of crushed shell stuck to his skin. When I touched his shoulder, he winced. I shoved both hands between my knees. “What happened?”

“Big, burly guy jumped me. No idea why. My laptop?”

“It’s here.” I nodded at the coffee table where it lay.

“And Coco?”

The damned dog had sneaked inside and now sat on the other side of me, his chin resting on Ben’s knee. “He’s here, too.”

“He saved me. Bit the guy.” Ben’s eyelids fluttered closed.

I glanced back at the dog. He had the nerve to raise his eyebrows, accusing me of negligence while he’d leaped to Ben’s rescue.

“Good dog,” I muttered.

“Ice?” Ben asked.

“Of course.” I stood and strode to the kitchen, glad to be useful. “Does your face hurt?”

“Not as much as my ankle or my shoulder.”

I froze in the middle of finding a dishtowel. “Your ankle and your shoulder?”

“Twisted them.”

Fuck. All my attention had been on Ben’s face. I hurriedly folded ice into two towels and carried them back to the sofa. I eased off Ben’s sneaker. His right ankle swelled. I laid one ice pack over it and the other on the shoulder that had pained him when I’d touched it.

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