Page 90 of Hero Mine

He decided not to push about what exactlylong daysmeant. It may not be anything more insidious than having put in hard hours.

Instead, he pulled her to him, one hand sliding to the small of her back as he lowered his mouth to hers. She melted against him, her body fitting perfectly against his larger frame as she rose on her toes to deepen the kiss.

When they finally broke apart, they were both breathing harder, and the fatigue that had lined her face had been replaced by something warmer.

“I missed you too,” he murmured against her lips.

“Your place?” she suggested, her fingers playing with the collar of his shirt. “It’s closer.”

“Best idea I’ve heard all day.”

They drove the short distance to his apartment above the garage in comfortable silence, Joy’s hand resting on his thigh. He pulled into the side lot and killed the engine.

As they stepped out, Bear’s attention flew to the gate to the scrapyard. It was slightly ajar, moving in the light breeze.

He’d locked it. He always locked it.

“Bear?” He walked around the truck, Joy’s voice seeming distant as his senses heightened, focusing on the faint sounds coming from inside the fence.

Movement. Someone was in there.

He put a hand on Joy’s arm, motioning for her to stay quiet. “Someone’s breaking in to the scrapyard,” he whispered, nodding toward the gate. “Call Callum.”

Her eyes widened as she processed his words. “Breaking in? What do you?—”

“Just stay here, and call Callum.” He wasn’t missing his chance to catch this guy.

Before she could respond, he moved silently toward the gate, years of Marine training taking over. The moon provided just enough light to make out the intruder. Make thattwo. They were near the back of the yard, hunched over what looked like a pile of discarded auto parts.

They hadn’t spotted him yet.

The chain link fence creaked as Bear pushed the gate wider, and both heads snapped up. Bear couldn’t make them out with the hoods of their sweatshirts pulled so tightly around their heads. Without hesitation, they bolted—splitting in opposite directions.

“Hey!” Bear shouted. He paused for a second, not sure which one to chase, then broke into a run after the taller figure who’d headed toward the tree line behind the property. The other had run toward town.

The thief was fast, clearly familiar with the terrain as he darted between trees and leaped over fallen logs. Bear followed, his boots pounding against the cold earth, breath clouding in the night air.

The gap between them narrowed—Bear was gaining. Twenty feet. Fifteen. He could make out a dark hoodie, the flash of pale skin as the thief glanced back.

Then the figure veered sharply left, cutting through a dense patch of underbrush that Bear knew bordered the creek. By the time Bear navigated the thorny branches, his quarry had vanished into the darkness.

“Damn it,” he growled, spinning in a slow circle, listening intently for any sound of movement.

Nothing.

The night had swallowed the thief completely.

Bear had never been a sprinter, but he could hold his own. That son of a bitch was nimble as a damn gazelle. Frustration coursed through Bear as he started back toward the garage. Maybe he would’ve had better luck with the other one.

As he jogged, a sickening realization stopped him cold.

Joy. He’d left Joy alone. What if the second guy doubled back after her?

Cold fear replaced frustration as Bear broke into a full sprint again. What if Joy had panicked? What if she’d tried to confront him?

His mind cycled through increasingly horrific scenarios as he ran, his heart hammering against his ribs. He burst through the tree line, the garage coming into view, and scanned desperately for any sign of her.

The scrapyard gate stood wide open now, and relief hit him like a physical force when he spotted Joy inside, phone in one hand, flashlight in the other, methodically scanning the area.

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