Page 1 of Marked for Danger

Prologue

Sitting propped up on a gurney in the back of the ambulance, legs stretched out in front of her beneath a thin white blanket, fifteen-year-old Izzy Garcia’s tear-welled gaze took in the scene through the emergency vehicle’s opened back doors. Her hazel eyes followed the young man being placed in the back of a police car, her heart giving a breath-stealing thump when he turned his head in her direction.

A line of shivers raced down Izzy’s spine, the chill not created by a passing breeze but rather the young man’s cold, accepting gaze. With his hands cuffed, nose bloodied, and his hair a disheveled mess, there wasn’t a stitch of regret to be found.

Not that she’d expected there to be.

“What’s going to happen to him?” The question sounded flat, even to her.

The kind detective sitting on the tiny built-in bench to her left followed Izzy’s line of sight. “Tonight?” She shrugged. “He’ll be booked, processed, and placed in a cell until his arraignment.”

“And then?” She needed to know.

“Then it’s up to the judge. But the charges against him are serious.”

Breaking and entering, assault, attempted murder…yes, she supposed those were some serious charges.

Hugging herself, Izzy ignored her throbbing jaw and rubbed her sore wrists. Like the inside of her right thigh—where she’d been repeatedly punched in order to spread her legs open—the skin there was already starting to bruise.

“When will he get out?” A tear fell down her tender cheek.

“Depends on how good his lawyer is. I know it’s hard, but try not to think about that, okay?” The pretty redhead put a cautious hand on Izzy’s shoulder. “All you need to worry about right now is letting these guys take care of you, and getting some rest.”

Rest.

Izzy nearly choked at the thought. She’d been knocked around and nearly raped less than an hour ago, and she was expected to just forget all that and what…take a nap? Not likely.

“Where will I go?” More tears fell as she watched the police cruiser drive away.

But before the detective could answer, the paramedic who’d initiated treatment reached out and pulled the back doors shut. Though it shouldn’t have been, the sound of metal slamming together was deafening.

Frowning, Izzy looked to her left. She wanted to ask the nice female detective why it had sounded like that. Why she could still hear the vibrations rippling through the enclosed space. But the detective who’d been by her side from the moment she’d arrived was gone. And in her place…

No!

Izzy’s heart flew into her throat, its heavy beats slamming against her insides with a force unlike any she’d ever felt before. Because the eyes staring back at her now belonged to him.

The person who’d come into her bedroom tonight. The man who’d put his hands on her, despite her repeated attempts to say no. Attempts stifled by a rough hand pressed against her lips.

Hand to her mouth. Heavy body on hers. Fist to her thigh. Another hand forcing her wrists between their bodies, the delicate bones there grinding painfully together as she fought to get free.

And when he’d realized the control was all his, that hand on her wrists had started to move lower. His unwanted fingers pulling at the elastic on the waist of her underwear. And then—

“No!” Izzy gasped, her entire upper body shooting straight up from the mattress below. Chest heaving with forceful, terror-fueled breaths, she broke up the heavy puffs of air with several hard, painful swallows.

Her lids closed and opened, the series of purposeful blinks slowly bringing her back to the present.

He’s not here. It was only a dream.

Only it wasn’t a dream. It was a memory. One Izzy had spent the last sixteen years trying to forget. But it was impossible to forget the very thing that had shaped her life every year—or rather, every month, week, day, hour, minute, and second—since.

Which reminded her…

She turned to the sleeping man lying beside her. Grady Thorne’s smooth scalp was a stark contrast to the thick and neat salt-and-pepper beard covering his strong jaw and framing his relaxed lips.

Lips that were intimately familiar with nearly every inch of her five-eight frame.

Lost in a sea of slumber, the sexy detective’s broad, muscular chest rose and fell with slow, even breaths. His expression was that of peace, despite the dangers and evil she knew he encountered on a regular basis.

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