Page 19 of Claimed By my Fake Husband

An asshole who isn't long for this world, considering he's got a gun pointed at her.

I fling my car door open and sprint toward them, yelling to get the fucker's attention.

"Hey!"

His eyes shoot to me, caught off guard, and I punch him square in the face. The blow sends Tess flying into the grass.

She scrambles toward me while I face off with the greasy, suit-wearing motherfucker who had the gall to point a gun at my girl.

No. Not yours, Logan. Focus.

"What the hell?!" The guy grabs his nose, blood pouring between his fingers. "Who the fuck do you think you are?!"

He tries to level the gun at me, but I grab his wrist and squeeze until the tendons give him no choice but to drop it.

"Ahh! Get off me!"

Before I can say a word, Tess is in my peripheral vision, marching up to the guy and kicking him square in the crotch.

He curls in on himself, and I let his arm drop, turning to her.

"Tell me what the fuck you're doing out here."

Tess's eyes flare as she meets my stare, and the fury I'm barely holding back locks onto her instead.

"I—ugh, no matter what I say, you're not going to like it. I was trying to get dirt on Cilento." She glares down at the man curled on the ground. "But it was a double-cross. He got paid off."

I clench my jaw, fighting not to snap. "Of course he got paid off. The reward for you is enormous, Tess. Who the hell messages you out of the blue like that and doesn't set off alarm bells?"

Her stare rockets back to mine. "You knew about the reward?! The hell?!"

"That'swhat you're focused on? Not the fact that some asshole very easily lured you out of hiding to drag you off to Cilento? He was going to hand you over and let them gut you, Tess! He was going to kill you!"

I realize I'm shouting too late. A glassy sheen hits her eyes, but it's not tears, and it's not sadness.

Tess is fucking pissed.

Well. Welcome to the club, sweetheart.

"Don't you dare scream at me!" She levels me with a glare, arms crossed. "This is my job, Logan. My life's work. I will not let anyone take that from me. Least of all Cilento."

I have to hand it to her—that's ballsy. Brave, even. But it's also reckless, and it completely disregards the real harm that could've been done tonight.

"I'm not telling you to quit your job. I'm telling you that you need to put your safety first. Just once."

"While people out there die because of Cilento? No. My safety isn't worth theirs."

Goddamn, she's righteous.

A rustle in the grass drags our attention down. The gun-happy fuckbag is trying to crawl away toward his car.

I haul him up by the scruff of his shirt. "Not a chance, asshole."

"He's just some scum from the paper." She steps toward him, holding his eye pointedly. "Something tells me when he crawls back to his 'boss' without me, he's going to be in alotof trouble."

Understanding flashes across the scumbag's face. Tess has a point, but I still want to make damn sure he doesn't get away.

I pull the cuffs from my back pocket—the ones I grabbed before leaving the house—and lock one around his wrist, the other to the passenger door handle of his own car.