Page 11 of Aspen's Defense

Fuck.

I hit the gas. The engine revs, the tachometer and the speedometer shooting upward.

"I'm on my way," I promise. "I'll be there in three minutes, tops. Can you stay hidden and hang on until then?"

"I don't know," she whispers, her voice barely audible. "S-should I try to scare them off?"

"No. Fuck no," I growl. "Don't let them know you're there if you can help it." I may not know much about crime and criminals, but I know enough to know revealing that she's in the shop right now is the absolute wrong thing to do. Maybe it'll scare them off. Or maybe they'll decide to hurt her. That's not a gamble I'm willing to take.

Fuck my life. Not even an hour ago, I was convincing myself that she's safer here than in Seattle. If this is the universe's way of telling me to get with the program and do what Nash wants…it's a mighty powerful goddamn lesson.

"But…"

"I will spank your gorgeous ass if you put yourself in harm's way, Aspen." My hands tighten around the steering wheel. I push the truck harder, flying through a red light at ninety miles an hour. If anyone from the Sheriff's Office is out running radar, they're just going to have to chase me to the coffee shop to write me a ticket because I hear the fear bleeding out of her tone as indignation and anger move in.

Her first instinct was to flee. Her second is to fight. She's offended that they're stealing what doesn't belong to them. And she's pissed that she feels helpless. I haven't known her long, but I know her well enough to know one thing she doesn't do is helpless. Aspen is a fighter, the kind of woman who takes charge of her own destiny, and gets shit done.

She's going to grow more and more indignant the longer she thinks about the fact that she's hiding while someone ransacks the shop she loves. I need to get there before she has time to dwell on it for too much longer. Otherwise, God only knows what she's going to do.

"I didn't say I was going to do that," she huffs at me. "But should I try to get a look at…?" A loud clatter sounds down the line, far too fucking close for comfort. She knocked something over. There's no way whoever is in there didn't hear it. I still hear whatever it is rattling across the goddamn floor.

A male's voice sounds in the background, faint and far away, as if he's in another part of the shop, but still loud enough to set my teeth on edge. He definitely heard whatever she knocked over.

"Run," I growl at Aspen. "Now. Get outside as fast as you can."

Her acknowledgment is a soft sob.

I fly around the corner onto Broadway, my tires screeching. The shop is six blocks away. Six blocks. It feels like ten miles.

"Hey!"

My blood runs cold as the same voice from earlier shouts. Aspen sobs, a devastatingly frightened sound that'll haunt my nightmares. So will the sound that follows. A loud explosion blasts down the line.

Aspen screams as glass erupts into the roadway down the street.

Jesus Christ. He has a gun.

"Aspen!" I shout, panic clawing at me.

She doesn't say anything. For what feels like an eternity, all I hear is chaos coming down the line, none of the sounds truly discernible. They're just a mishmash of distorted shuffles and muffled thumps and shattering items. I don't hear Aspen at all. I don't hear the motherfucker with the gun, either.

And then, Aspen stumbles through the front door of the shop and immediately begins running down the sidewalk. I don't know if she sees my truck or if it's instinct, but she races toward me, waving her hands over her head as if to get my attention.

I suck in a breath, relief coursing through me in a powerful wave. My gaze shifts past her to the shop, checking to see if the bastard inside follows her. But if he's still in there, he doesn't come running out after her. I slam on the brakes beside her and pop the locks.

She immediately races toward the passenger side and clambers in. She's pale and trembling. Tears streak down her face. I want to drag her into my arms, but I need to get her to safety first. Right now, that's what matters most.

"Hold on," I mutter, throwing the truck in reverse.

I hit the gas and reverse to the next street before straightening out. I head straight for the Sheriff's Office. Aspen sits beside me, breathing hard and shaking.

"Talk to me, baby. Are you hurt?"

"N-no," she whispers, her voice shaking. "He s-shot at me, but he m-missed."

I clench my jaw so hard it pulses. Everything in me demands I get her to safety, go back, and kill the son of a bitch. He tried to fucking shoot her. Jesus Christ. He deserves a slow, painful death for that. But even if I go back, chances are he's long gone by now. I'm guessing he ran as soon as she made it out of the shop.

It takes less than three minutes to make it to the Sheriff's Office. I pull right up to the doors before slamming the truck into park. Aspen's still pale and trembling, tears slipping down her cheeks. I hop out and circle around the truck to her.