The Hero She Needs (Unbroken Heroes Book 1)(30)

He met the gaze of his attacker and bared his teeth. Bring it, asshole.

Boone pushed his worry for Gemma aside. Protecting her. That was all that mattered.

The next man rushed him. Boone threw his arm up and blocked the man’s hit. He followed through with a palm to the face. The guy let out a choked sound and Boone hit him again. Then he rammed a kick into the man’s gut.

The guy dropped to his knees. Boone lifted his boot and kicked the man over.

Heaving in air, he heard the scrape of a boot on concrete.

He was already whirling and caught a glimpse of another guy swinging a baton at him.

Without a sound, Atlas sailed through the air and leaped on the man. He’d heard Boone’s whistle and gotten out of the truck.

“Fuck!” The guy dropped the baton, throwing his arms to protect himself from the snap of Atlas’ jaws.

With a growl, the dog clamped onto the man’s leg.

Boone punched him—once, twice. The man fell backward and hit the concrete.

They were all down.

“Atlas, release.”

Then he heard Gemma’s scream echo from deeper in the alley.

Adrenaline punched through him. No.

He took off at a sprint. He passed a reeking dumpster, then ahead, saw two shadowed silhouettes grappling in the dim light.

He whipped up his Glock.

There was enough light for him to see a tall man with a beard holding Gemma. He had a knife pressed against her throat.

The man saw Boone. “Stop there, or she’s dead.” He had a thick Romanian accent.

“We both know you need her alive, Radu.”

“Drop your weapon.” The man’s tone was like ice. He pressed his knife to her cheek. “I may not kill her, but I can hurt her, leave her far less pretty.”

Beside Boone, Atlas stood, alert and focused on Gemma’s attacker.

The fear on her face was stark, and it cut at Boone. He was not letting her get hurt. He’d failed a lot of people in his life.

Not Gemma. Not today.

She met his gaze, and he barely controlled his jolt. She was scared, but she looked at him with pure trust in her eyes.

Suddenly, she stomped her foot down on the man’s boot.

He growled, but loosened his hold enough that she half turned. And rammed her knee between the guy’s legs. The man uttered a vicious curse.

“Gemma, down,” Boone roared.

She didn’t hesitate. She dropped instantly.

Boone fired.

The man’s body jerked, and his knife fell from nerveless fingers. He clutched his bleeding shoulder and hit the concrete on his ass.

“Gemma—”

Boone didn’t need to say any more. She ran at him, and he caught her. But he didn’t take his gaze off the man moaning on the ground.

“Are you hurt?” Boone asked her.

“No, I’m fine.”

He tightened his grip on her. “We need to get—”

“You aren’t going anywhere.”

The deep voice behind them made Boone’s jaw clench. They turned slowly, and he saw two more mercenaries. One was tall and lean, while the other one was shorter with a muscular build.

They were both armed with rifles.

Both aiming at Boone.

Gemma gasped, her hands digging into his arm.

“We’re taking the girl,” the tall man said.

This one had an American accent. He’d probably been military and now sold his services to the highest bidder. Boone couldn’t stand the sight of him.

Atlas growled.

The other merc shifted his gun to aim at the dog.

“No!” Gemma stepped in front of Atlas.

Fuck. Boone didn’t have a good play here. Not one that didn’t put Gemma at risk.

“Come here.” The tall guy gestured at Gemma.

She lifted her chin. “No. Tell Carruthers to get fucked.”

The men traded a glance, then the tall one gave a slow nod. “Then we’ll have to put a bullet in your hero’s head and drag you out of here.”

She bit her lip.

All of a sudden, a shadow moved behind the men. Boone couldn’t make out what it was, but he kept his face blank.

“I’ll say it again,” the merc repeated. “Come here.”

The shadow moved closer, then attacked.

A blow to the back of the head sent the talking man toppling face-first to the dirty ground. He didn’t move.

The second merc was turning, but didn’t get a chance to defend himself. The newcomer slammed several heavy blows into the man.

The second mercenary went down hard.

Boone pulled Gemma toward him. Their rescuer took a step forward, and Boone noted the guy was big and broad. Then he stepped into a dim light and Boone saw a familiar dark beard covering a square jaw, and shaggy, black hair.

The man scowled at them. “This alley stinks.”

“Shep,” Boone said.

His friend grunted. “I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve saved your ass, Hendrix.”

Atlas bounded over and licked the former Ghost Ops soldier’s hand.





Gemma’s pulse was still racing, her heart hammering. She clutched Boone’s arm like a lifeline.

He’d stormed in like some warrior—strong and composed. Then she’d been terrified those men were going to shoot him and Atlas.