Accidental Protector: A Marriage Mistake Romance

by Snow, Nicole

  She examines the contents and gasps. “Assault rifle. Broken down. With a double drum?”

  There's no denying she knows her guns. A relief. “Yeah. You know how to reassemble?”

  “In an Arizona heartbeat. Dad loves stuff like this.”

  I let out a breath, not doubting her confidence, all the while wishing she wasn’t in a predicament where she has to reassemble a fucking high-powered weapon.

  Or anything else.

  “Listen to me, Lucky,” I growl, waiting for her eyes. “If anything goes down, you pick it up and fire. Don't stop till there’s no man left standing.”

  How did we get here? I'm ordering her to mow down Lucient and his wolves like a cheesy ass mafia flick. Only as a backup. If all goes as planned, she won't have to fire a single shot.

  She wraps a hand around mine. “There will be one man standing, Noah.”

  I give her a tight grin.

  Confidence is in short supply, but damn if I don't try.

  * * *

  Lucient’s Escalade pulls in between two buildings. I follow, and the car that appears in my headlights sends my heart pounding. A red Impala. Jess’ red Impala.

  The front fender is crinkled, where someone had backed into it the day before she’d come up missing. She called Aunt Judy, all upset, had taken a picture of it for insurance and auto body work.

  The Escalade doesn’t stop, just circles the car like a vulture, and then drives back out from between the buildings.

  “What’s he doing?” Lucky scratches her head.

  My throat burns as I shake my head. “I don’t know what the fuck’s going on.”

  A harsh truth I hate putting out in the open.

  I follow anyway, taking a back road that leads out of the warehouse district. It’s rough, the pavement deteriorated from years of being unused, forgotten.

  There are sirens wailing in the distance, but that’s not unusual for this area or time of night. Another drug bust going down, probably. Or someone caught wiring a car.

  My cell phone goes off like a screaming rocket.

  I glance at Lucky, questioning if I should let her hear the conversation or not.

  She nods, encouraging me to answer, as the ringtone blares away.

  Fuck it. We're past the point where she needs to know as much as possible. I click the button, letting the call come through the truck’s speakers.

  “There’s your proof, Bernard. Satisfied?”

  Lucient’s voice makes every nerve in my body twitch with rage.

  “It’s also proof that we aren’t so different,” he says. “You and I. Made from the same cloth. Neither one of us gives until we get what we want. Keep following.”

  Words I never wanted to hear. My jaw pinches so tight I think I'll break my teeth.

  I follow the Escalade as it takes a turn, heading back toward the freeway.

  “The difference between us,” he continues, “is that I pay my employees well. Very, very well. That bag of money I gave you for Harkness is just the beginning. Your little passenger will like the lifestyle I can give you, and her. Isn’t that right, Mindy?”

  Steam sizzles out the top of my head at the way he says her name like an old friend. The brutal fucking knowledge that he knows her name at all.

  Her lips are pinched, but it’s the fear in her soft green eyes that guts me.

  “You’re going to pass us,” Lucient says, “as soon as we get on the freeway. We’ll follow you tonight, up to Lake Tahoe, a place I know. Don’t worry, I’ll call you when it’s time to exit. We’ll talk there in more detail. Like gentlemen, now that you know I've kept my end of our little bargain. I’ll give you all the information you need to complete your next assignment, and you will, Bernard. Because you know by now I'm a man who gives his all. You see my generosity, and you know what's on the other side, should you decide to continue being rude, bull-headed, foolish.”

  I'll show you foolish and bull-headed, asshole, I snarl in my mind. Give me one chance.

  “Stay close ahead. We'll arrive in a little under an hour.”

  He clicks off.

  “What...what was that?” Mindy whispers, her brows pushed together, wiping her forehead with one hand.

  I don’t like this death march through the night.

  Haven’t liked any of it because it's giving him too much control. Near total.

  If I was alone, I’d follow through, make it my final opportunity to get Lucient alone, but fuck, I can’t take that chance. Not with Lucky’s life on the line.

  We roll onto the ramp and I swerve to the left.

  “So we're just going along with it?” Lucky keeps her gaze forward as we drive past the Escalade.

  I stare forward, mentally searching for a new plan. Improvising won’t work this time. One diversion from following Lucient, and he'll be gone for good. Next time he comes around, it'll be one of his minions with a gun to our heads, ready to pull the trigger.

  Going in head down and guns blazing won’t work. Neither will running away. The stakes are too high.

  A battle opens inside me. An enemy I’ve never had to face before rises. It’s not an ugly one. In fact, it’s beautiful, and real. And it has a name.

  Love.

  I love Mindy Austin.

  Mindy Bernard.

  My Lucky little wife who's made me the most fortunate idiot on the face of the earth. This angel of mercy beside me.

  There's no denying it. This love cuts deep. Strong. All encompassing. Has the ability to make me stronger than any vow, any army training or scum-chasing experience I’ve ever had.

  It’s also more dangerous because of its desire to make me do anything, everything to protect her.

  I’ve felt that before. For Jess, for Aunt Judy, but there are two kinds of love.

  It pisses me off that I have to put one up against the other.

  There’s an infinitesimal chance Jess could still be alive. It's kept flickering in the back of my head ever since seeing her car, despite my natural reservations to pin any hope on it.

  If I was alone right now, that's all I’d be thinking about.

  Jess.

  Alive.

  As much as I love her, she’s not the one I have to focus on right now.

  Jess and Aunt Judy are family. But Lucky's the love of my life.

  My missing half. Every sappy, sad line ever written by a man pining for his woman.

  Nothing – and I mean fuck-nothing – means more than she does now. No one's taking her away from me. Or me away from her.

  I have to end this. Keep her alive. Walk away in one piece.

  I reach over, grabbing her hand. I feel the way it’s trembling. Feel deep inside how much she means to me. This is why those men I served with, those married guys with wives and kids, always chose to assess the dangers of new deployments before committing.

  Some of us didn’t understand just how much more those men had to live for than we did.

  “Almost over, darlin'. We're gonna get out of this,” I say.

  Her fingers wrap tightly around my hand. “I know. Don't doubt it.”

  My decision's made. Saving her, my top priority, then saving myself.

  I just wish I didn’t have to say, “I’ll need your help.”

  She blinks and looks at me slowly, almost disbelieving.

  “Congrats, Noah Bernard. You've finally figured out that's what I’m always here for,” she says, wagging her spitfire tongue so sweetly I want to forget all this shit and just attack her little mouth. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Nothing's happened yet, but it's like half the weight lifts magically off my shoulders.

  Incredible what kind of black magic love must be.

  A plan forms, bits and pieces racing across my mind. I just have to pull it all together and then execute, with enough precision to ensure the final outcome, without destroying us.

  “Okay,” I tell her, finalizing the scenario playing out in my head.

  The Escalade is righ
t on my tail. Outrunning them isn’t an option. I don’t know the roads in the area well enough.

  “Start searching gas stations along this route,” I whisper. “Not convenience stores, but full self-serve fueling stops. Preferably ones that aren't staffed this time of night.”

  Without question, she pulls out her phone and starts typing with both thumbs.

  “There’s one...I think...maybe nine miles up the road? Yeah, just a mile east of the freeway. Open twenty-four seven and only takes credit cards. No debit cards and no American Express. Doesn't say whether it's staffed or not.”

  I glance at the Escalade in my review mirror. “Anything else around it? Other businesses?”

  She flips through screens on her phone. “From what I can tell, there’s an equipment rental place nearby, but that’s about it. Should be closed.”

  “Perfect.” I'm quiet, finalizing the details in my mind. “All right. Let's do this.”

  My heart goes full jackhammer in my chest, knowing this is, hands down, my most dangerous hour ever.

  Not because of the enemy, or the odds, but because the outcome means more to me than all the others combined. “When the time's right, I’m gonna need you to drive the truck, Lucky.”

  “Okay. I can handle that. Um...how will I know when the time's right? Care to be more specific?”

  “You’ll know.” I drop the center console cover back in place so she’ll be able to climb over it real easy. “Darlin', I promise, trust me and you’ll know.”

  21

  Leaping at Fireflies (Mindy)

  I swear the last five miles have been the longest in my life.

  My heart is in my throat, and every time it beats, I almost choke to death.

  I can do this. I know I can, and he’s the reason.

  Ever since the moment we met, since I woke up next to this gorgeous, stubborn-as-nails lion-man, I’ve been challenged. Tested. Dared to look deep inside myself and find an inner strength I hadn’t known existed.

  It’s been amazing at times, trying at others, and fricking terrifying now, but I’m glad it’s happened. Old Mindy wouldn't recognize who I've become. And New Mindy wouldn't be me without this trial by Noah Bernard, love and frustration, heaven and hell, and always, always total awe rolled into one man.

  I glance sideways at Noah and close my eyes as the ultimate mark of new me fills my head.

  I'm not afraid to follow my heart. Not anymore. Never again.

  This new me found something the old me never, ever would have.

  The one missing piece, the one man who's put every other person in my life in the neat category where they belong.

  I love my family and I always will. Mom, Dad, my sisters. I’ll always care about others, too, but he’s the reason I’m on this earth. The one person who I’ll put first forever. The man I love. The man who brought out the real me.

  I hear the click of a blinker turning on, and open my eyes, glance behind us, and draw in a breath of fortifying air. It's about to get real.

  I won’t let him down. No matter what I have to do.

  The Escalade speeds up, its lights shining brightly in our back window.

  At the same time Noah exits the freeway, the phone rings. He hits the answer button on the dash screen.

  “Bernard? What are you –”

  “I need gas,” Noah interrupts. “Forgot to fuel up before coming out here and I'm running real low. There’s a stop up the road. Look it up. I'll just be a minute.” He hits the disconnect button before Lucient can respond.

  I have no idea if we really need gas or not, can’t see the gauge from here, but it doesn’t matter. The gas station is part of Noah’s plan, and though I could ask, learn more, I’ve discovered it doesn’t matter.

  He’ll tell me what I need to know and when. I trust him.

  Anything more would only muddy my already overactive mind and turn my nerves to mush. Getting me questioning what, where, when, how, why, and if, plus every other stupid doubt that springs forward.

  He knows that about me, and for now, I appreciate his silence.

  The fuel bank is little more than a lighted awning over several gas pumps. Unmanned, thankfully.

  There’s a building a short distance away, sharing the same pavement. Large rental equipment is parked near the building. Highway rigs like graders, bulldozers, and big dump trucks.

  Noah steers the truck up by the pumps. The knuckles of his hands on the steering wheel are bone-white.

  We look at each other, saying nothing and everything. I have to force-swallow the lump in my throat as my heart fully understands his sorrow, his pain, and most intently, his love.

  I give him a we-got-this nod, and then hold my breath as he opens his door. As soon as it closes, I roll my window down. Just enough to hear.

  Slowly, I nudge open the console lid. My father has the same rifle, and I’ve never in my life been so happy he insisted I learn about every make and model.

  Swiftly, because I’ve done it before, I start assembling the gun, keeping it low to the floor where Lucient's men can't see, whenever they show up.

  Another door slams. I glance up into the rear-view mirror.

  Crap. They're here.

  “See how easy this can be?” Lucient asks, waving a hand at the desolation surrounding the place. His slicked back hair and beady eyes make him look strangely inhuman.

  Too much like a predator playing with its food before devouring it.

  I don’t believe I’ve ever experienced this level of hatred for a total stranger.

  It’s massive. Deep. Strong.

  Biting my lip, I click the last piece of the gun in place.

  Without a word, Noah turns away from the truck and grabs the gas nozzle, ignoring the devil literally on his side.

  Lucient turns too, leaning an arm on the tailgate of the truck. “Look at me, Noah.”

  Very slowly, Noah turns, fresh contempt branded on his face. Probably because Lucient just used his first name.

  “Listen, whether you believe it now or not, we will make a good team. Half the men I've recruited over the years used to despise me. Others come more willingly. Eagerly. More often than not, those are the type who let me down.” His eyes are pitch black.

  Jesus. If I realize what he's implying – Jess – then Noah gets it too.

  He doesn’t look my way, gives no signal, but a gut feeling tells me to shift over to the driver’s seat.

  Keeping my head down, I scramble over the open console and slide low into the seat, barely bumping the steering wheel. I drop the assembled AR in the open console and grab the wheel with one hand, the ignition switch with the other.

  The potent stench of gasoline fills the air, more than it should.

  A glance in the side mirror shows me Noah doesn’t have the nozzle in the tank. Not all the way. Gas trickles down the side of the truck, over the tire, onto the ground.

  Lucient is still talking, alternating boasting and subtle threats, something about how his deep connections and Noah’s military skill will make them a power no one will reckon with. Not even the cartels farther south, or the biker gangs like the Grizzlies across the California border.

  I swallow so hard it hurts. Tense. Waiting.

  What happens next strikes so fast, I barely have time to think, let alone comprehend my next move.

  Thing One opens the driver’s door of the SUV suddenly, and shouts that gas is running onto the ground.

  He doesn't even get a chance to finish.

  Noah jerks the nozzle out of the truck and dowses a stunned Lucient before the man has a chance to move.

  Leaving everything to instinct, I start the ignition. Noah throws the still flowing gas hose toward Thing One. Thing Two jumps out of the SUV and storms forward. There’s a sudden flash and flames light the entire ground, stabbing up around us, orange daggers jerking deep into the darkness.

  Noah grabs Lucient – I think – throws him over the tailgate and jumps in, wrestling him to the bed of the box al
l in one swift, silent, seething movement.

  Flames lick the truck as I hit the gas.

  “Crap, crap, crap!” I mutter, doing my best to steer.

  There are shouts, bangs, but nothing louder than my thudding heart, echoing in my ears.

  I can’t tell where the noises are coming from. Not exactly.

  Lucient and Noah are rolling in the bed, fighting, the loud metal bang of their bodies in a war reverberating to the driver's seat.

  Thing One and Thing Two are running after us, almost about to grab the tailgate. My foot’s already pushing the gas pedal to the floor, so I fish tail the truck, throwing up rocks at them.

  Nearing the end of the parking lot, I wrench the wheel, and hit the road. Thing One and Two fire their guns, so I flip the wheel again, and steer the truck behind the line of heavy equipment.

  Shots keep coming, pinging off the heavy metal of the trucks and equipment, shielding us.

  Slowing the speed as I approach the end of the row so I can wrench on the wheel one more time, I mentally prepare myself.

  Now.

  Everything goes spinning. Before the back end of the truck finishes whipping around, I hit the gas again.

  The opening between the equipment show Thing One and Thing Two running for their Escalade. It’s surrounded in flames. Hopefully disabled.

  Adrenaline rips through me. We’re going to win this. Holy hell – win!

  I just have to finish. Solidify. Touch the finish line.

  Whipping the steering wheel around, I race over until the driver’s side of the truck faces the flames. Thing One and Two turn sharply, hoisting up guns they must've reloaded by now.

  I slam on the brakes, grab the AR, and start firing.

  The percussion makes my arms burn to my shoulder blades. The smell stings my nose. The sound is freaking deafening, but I don’t stop, can't stop, not until both drums are empty.

  Thing One and Two are on the ground. Alive or dead, they're down.

  I whip around, lift up in my seat enough to see into the pickup's bed. A fist impacts the back window the instant I do. I scream, staring into Lucient's hateful, bloodshot eyes.