Page 33 of Viper

Well, this wasn’t exactly their first date. Nor was it the first time his attraction to her had driven him wild. But it was the first time they’d acknowledged that their relationship could move in a different direction.

He steered himself toward the washrooms. Reaching the hallway, he spotted a man wearing a serving uniform disappearing out the back exit. His blood ran cold. Before the door slammed shut, he’d caught sight of one long, sleek feminine leg. The man had been carrying someone.

Troy broke into a run. He yanked his weapon from the waistband at his back. Instinct made him race past the women’s room. Paige would’ve been out by now.

Shit, shit, shit.

He slammed the metal bar and the door banged open. Aiming his 9mm, he skidded into the parking lot. It wasn’t yet dusk. The streaked sky offered light.

The man in the serving uniform came into view—with Paige hanging in his arms. Troy sprinted across the gravel lot. The guy approached a sedan, the trunk open. Terror filled Troy’s mouth with acid. He wasn’t far. Forty feet. But the guy could get away. Stones kicked up as he ran.

“Stop!” he bellowed.

He pointed the weapon at the guy’s legs but was afraid he’d miss and hit Paige. He swung his aim to one of the tires and fired. The rubber blew.

He could see the man’s face now. There was no doubt it was Craig. The sick fuck dumped Paige into the trunk and slammed it shut.

Troy was close. He shot again and Craig cursed loudly when his side window exploded.

“Hands up!” he bellowed, as he advanced.

Craig ducked below the rear of the vehicle. Troy’s senses heightened. He kept his weapon locked above the trunk of the car, his footsteps steady on his approach.

Crack, crack!

Bullets whizzed by him. He ducked low to the ground. Fear ricocheted through him. He wouldn’t fire at the fucking car with Paige locked in the trunk. It was too risky.

“Come out, you bastard!” he bellowed. His breath came out rapidly through his nose, hot and ferocious. He’d caught the slimy sonofabitch, and this time, he wouldn’t turn him over to the cops. The fucker had gotten too close—had almost taken Paige right out from under his nose. He wouldn’t let that happen again.

The memory of Paige’s limp body dangling in Craig’s arms spiked fear in his heart. No sound came from the trunk. Not a scream, not a thump. Just silence. “If you hurt her, I swear to god!” he warned.

Only the constant drone of traffic from the street out front reached his ears. Then sirens whirred somewhere in the distance. Someone had likely called the cops.

He leaped to his feet, ready to take a bullet if it meant getting to Paige before it was too late.

He raced up to the vehicle and rounded the trunk. Craig was gone.

“Fuck.” Fuck!

He ran to the driver’s side, yanked open the door, and hit the button to release the trunk. The lid sprang up, and he rushed to it.

Paige lay flat on her back, her head tilted to the side, her lips slightly parted and pale. “Paige.”

His heart stalled in his chest. He reached for her neck and pressed his fingers on an artery. A weak but steady pulse found his fingers.

Goddammit. Relief and fear collided in his head. He jammed his weapon back into his waistband and bent to lift her, cradling her head against his chest and hooking his arm beneath her legs.

Her head fell back over his elbow, her neck completely limp. His stomach curdled with worry. “Paige, I need you to open your eyes. Now,” he blurted, as if commanding her would make her obey.

Sirens screamed as a cop cruiser pulled into the parking lot. Troy ran forward as an officer stepped out.

“She needs an ambulance!” he cried. “Hurry!”

He knelt on the ground and cupped her face. The cop spoke into his radio. Ever so gently, Troy stroked Paige’s cheek. Her eyes were sealed peacefully shut, her lashes resting like long, thin wings. She drew in small, barely audible breaths through her nose.

But her skin.

She was so pale. Almost gray now. Her lips white.