Page 28 of Guarded Secrets
She stepped backward, trying to put as much distance between herself and the knife as possible while keeping him in her line of sight.
He glanced over her shoulder, eyes widening. “Fuck. Dammit, bitch, gimme me the purse.” He spoke fast, his voice cracking as he bounced on the balls of his feet. Then he lunged for her, grappling for the strap of her purse. She jerked away from him, phone flying from her hand to spin across the pavement. She flung her purse as far as she could hoping he’d go after it and not hurt her. Nothing in the purse was worth her life.
He darted after it, but had taken only a couple steps when a shirtless and barefoot Owen streaked past her, over two hundred pounds of pissed-off former Marine slamming into the younger man with the impact of a semi.
They both hit the asphalt, the knife skittering under the car. In seconds Owen had him face down on the pavement and was holding the mugger’s hands with one of his own, his knee planted in his back.
Holy smokin’ moly. Owen Hardesty was one beautiful man. The sheer physicality of all those gorgeous muscles in motion was a sight to behold. Then the reality of the situation crashed into her.
A kid had tried tomugher. Sisters wasn’t New York or LA. She’d visited both cities and been perfectly safe. And now in her little mountain town, a kid had tried to take her purse by threatening her with a knife.
Owen’s head swiveled as he scanned the area, then began to pat down his detainee. He found nothing in his pockets.
“Did you see anyone else?” he growled at Keeley.
She hadn’t even considered her mugger might have an accomplice. She looked around. “I don’t see anyone.”
Owen snapped out orders rapid-fire. “Stay out of reach of this little shit and get your phone. Call 9-1-1.”
“No, no. Don’t call the police,” the little shit wailed. “I’ll get in so much trouble. I can’t breathe, man, I can’t breathe.”
Keeping the kid’s hands behind his back, Owen removed his knee.
Keeley gathered up her phone and purse, and took a moment to slow the breath wheezing in and out of her lungs.
She could’ve been hurt, but she was safe.
She needed to get herself together. Thankfully her phone screen hadn’t been damaged. She fisted her hand with her index finger outstretched to keep it from shaking and called the emergency number. She was pleased her voice remained steady as she described the situation and gave their location.
When she disconnected, Owen ordered, “Now reach in my pocket and get my keys.”
She shoved her phone in her purse and stepped over the kid’s legs to slip her fingers into the slit pocket of Owen’s sweats and tug out his keys. Her agitation must’ve been broadcasting out loud because he said, “Look at me.” Her gaze found his and his calmness steadied her, settling over her like a warm blanket. “You’re safe, Keeley.”
Her breath came out in a whoosh. “I know. I’m sorry I’m such a wimp.”
“Not a wimp. Just not used to this kind of situation. But you’re safe now.” When she nodded, he said, “Open the back of the Bronco. There’s a black duffel in there. Open it, find the zip ties, and bring them to me. Got it?”
She nodded again.
She did as he’d directed, and in short order, Owen had the restraints in place. A siren wailed in the distance. He rose to his feet, leaving her mugger curled on the asphalt.
Owen swung around, and before she could draw a breath, his hands cupped her face, his thumbs brushing over her cheekbones. His gaze drilled into her, skimming over her face as if absorbing the details. His touch set off a power surge she felt from her head all the way to her toes. She wanted to burrow into him and hold on.
“You okay?”
She gave the briefest of nods. “Yes. You’re here.” She should totally shut up before she revealed too much.
He drew her closer, his expression fierce.
“Are you hurt?” she asked. “You hit the ground hard when you tackled him.”
Intense was Owen’s default mode, but she was witnessing his normal intensity on steroids. She imagined the adrenaline surging through his body amplified whatever was going on in his head.
The wailing of sirens drew closer.
“I’m fine,” he murmured. His gaze followed his thumb grazing over her face and then lower to her lips, returning to burn into her eyes like blue flame.
He had to’ve felt the puff of her exhaled breath as his thumb pulled on her bottom lip. Her hands gripped his wrists. If he kissed her, and he sure looked like he wanted to, she’d need to hold on to him to keep from spinning off into the night.
