Celtic Bride. Margo Maguire
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Robin’s grip on the man loosened and he easily pulled away, raising the bat. He grunted with the effort of his swing as he brought it down toward Robin’s head.
She ducked to the side, saving her life as the bat crashed into the top of her trunk, denting the metal hard enough that the blow must have tingled through her attacker’s arms and hands. He hesitated a moment, flexing his fingers, and Robin slipped away and reached into the car for Emma. “Come on, sweetie.”
Before she could release the latch to remove the carrier from the car seat, she was struck again. She absorbed another blow to the backpack that drove her to the ground.
“Stay down!” her attacker whispered on an angry curse. Yet, almost as soon as he’d issued the order, he was hauling her up to her knees.
“Take my purse. Take my car. Take whatever you want,” she begged, slapping at his gloved hands and struggling to get to her feet. “Just let me get my baby!”
“Shut up.” Huffing and puffing from the exertion of the attack, the man fisted his hand around the straps of Robin’s backpack and dragged her across the parking lot. This was more than getting her out of his way this time. He was hauling her to the alley behind the shop, around the far side of the loading dock, hiding them from any view from the parking lot, much less the street.
With her hood long gone, the rain splashed in her face, reviving her will to fight. “Let go of me!” Robin clawed at his grip. She twisted and kicked. “Please,” she begged. “I just want to save my baby.”
“Shut up!” He dropped her behind the delivery van, glanced up and down the alley as though making sure they were all alone. “I gotta do this.”
Cold, stark terror swept through Robin like the rain soaking into her clothes. She smacked at his hands as he ripped open her jacket and unhooked the belt at her waist. “Stop!”
He popped the buttons on her blouse and unzipped her jeans. The cold rain hit her stomach, soaked into her panties. Robin thrashed and clawed at him. She was in mortal danger, about to become the next victim of the Rose Red Rapist.
And her baby was all alone. Abandoned once more. Helpless, without a mother. Alone at night in the rain.
“Please. I have a child—”
“Quit fightin’ me.” He cuffed her across the face, stunning her. He rose to his feet and straddled her. “You want it this way? Then this is how we’ll do it.” As the man raised the bat, Robin kicked out, aiming for that most vulnerable part of his anatomy.
But the man was quicker. The bat switched its target, swinging into her calf and deflecting her blow.
But the bruising strike didn’t stop her. Ignoring the pain, Robin rolled into the man’s legs, knocking him back against the side of the van. With one swift, jerky movement she got to her feet and limped around the bumper of the van toward freedom.
“Emma?” Robin gasped the word on a determined breath.
But bruised and battered, she was no match for the stronger man. She never saw the bat this time. She only knew the stinging blow that caught her at the juncture of her shoulder and neck, spinning the world out of focus and knocking her to the asphalt.
This time, he grabbed her by the ankle and dragged her back to his killing place. He flipped her onto her back and stood over her. The stocking mask he wore obscured his face, but she had no doubt about the hateful displeasure in his voice. “Is this the way you want it?”
Robin got up onto her elbows and tried to scoot away. “I won’t leave my baby.”
But he followed. Shaking his head, he closed the distance between them. Her back hit the concrete wall of the loading dock and she knew there was nowhere left to run.
“This ends now.” The bat swung up again and Robin braced for the blow.
But it never came.
A white-haired ghost materialized from the rain with a guttural roar. Strong hands closed around the bat, wrenching the weapon from her attacker’s grip.
The bat skittered away into the darkness as the ghost lifted her attacker off his feet. Her mysterious rescuer wrapped a meaty forearm around her assailant’s neck and carried him off into the shadows. The attacker’s body went limp and her savior tossed him aside into the alley.
Robin grabbed hold of the wall behind her to push herself to her feet. But her knees buckled and her world blurred as the ghost’s craggy, disfigured face came into view in the light above the loading dock. He was real. Big. Frightening. He growled something her stopped-up ears couldn’t make out and lunged for her.
Icy blue eyes and her own scream were the last things Robin remembered as her world faded to black.
Chapter Two
“Lady? Lady!” Jake caught the woman before her head hit the pavement. Nothing like a scream of terror to make a man feel every inch the monster his nightmares purported him to be. Still, he adjusted the woman in his arms as gently as he could, then laid her on the wet asphalt. “You’re welcome.”
He squatted down beside her, trying to block some of the rain that hit her face, looking her over from head to toe. She was long and lean and pale as milk. The backpack she wore was soaked and stained from her struggles, but he lifted her slightly to pull the squishy pack beneath her neck to cushion her head. He snapped her jeans closed and pulled her raincoat together to cover her body. Thank God the bastard hadn’t completed what he’d started. Didn’t mean he hadn’t done some damage. Jake pushed aside the collar of her blouse. Carefully avoiding the puffy red-and-violet welt across her collar bone, he pressed two fingers to the base of her throat. Her skin was creamy soft, chilled by the rain. But she had a pulse. The scuffed-up raincoat was moving up and down, too, so she was breathing.
She just wasn’t awake.
He sifted his fingers through her wet brown hair, moving the heavy waves from side to side to check her scalp for any contusions that could explain her unresponsive state. Nothing but silky hair. Jake pulled his hand away, feeling a little guilty that his fingers had warmed and lingered, mistakenly thinking the first-aid check had felt like some kind of caress. He knew how to nip that sensation in the bud. Remember the scream. Forget the niceties. He gave her cheek a couple of gentle smacks. “Come on, lady. Open your eyes.”
He heard a moan behind him in the alley and Jake turned, springing to his feet. His gaze zeroed in on the loser with the mask who had the idiot idea he was coming back for round two. Jake almost felt sorry for the guy. The woman’s attacker had the skills of an amateur. He’d probably subdued the woman with an initial blitz attack. But he was out of his league going up against someone who could fight back. Even now, he was already advancing before he had his balance centered over his feet.
And then Mr. Amateur had the bright idea to pull a knife. The thin steel blade gleamed in the next flash of lightning. He choked out a breathy warning. “This isn’t about you.”
Jake glanced down at the woman behind him, lying still and vulnerable at his feet. Decision made. Without taking his eyes off the approaching threat, Jake pulled the hunting knife from his boot, flipping the weapon in his hand to warn the guy he knew how to use it. “It is now.”
That’s right. Mine’s bigger than yours, he taunted silently, watching the eyes go wide behind the stocking mask.
Just then a cat howled across the parking lot, and the attacker’s head jerked toward the interruption. Although the mewling was muted by the rain and thunder, Jake tuned his ears to the sound, as well, wondering if the guy was that easily distracted or if he needed to be on guard against some other threat. A quick glance revealed little except darkness, rain and the empty street beyond the parking lot.
Whatever had spooked the guy was evident in the rapid rise and fall of his shoulders as his breathing quickened. Or maybe he was finally wising up to the idea he wasn’t getting past Jake. With one last heave of breath, the shadowy figure cursed. “You