The Hero She Needs (Unbroken Heroes Book 1)(7)

Shit. It’d been too long since he’d gotten laid. So long, he couldn’t even remember the last time.

He sat back and stared at the ceiling. Gemma Newhouse was in danger, afraid, vulnerable. And the last time he’d checked, he wasn’t an asshole. Or at least, not that big of an asshole.

Rising, he strode into the kitchen and drank a big glass of water. Atlas trotted in and sat, with what looked like an accusing gaze aimed Boone’s way.

“Watch her.” He slammed the glass down. “I have stuff to do.”

He headed outside. His first stop was his woodpile. His hands curled around the worn wooden handle of his axe.

He’d found chopping wood to be the best activity to clear the shit out of his head. After splitting several logs, and working up a sweat, he started to feel a bit better. More in control.

His first order of business—keep Gemma safe. Rex was right. Whoever had orchestrated her abduction would be looking for her.

Why had they taken her? Was this about ransom? Something to do with her father?

Paul Newhouse owned a giant retail and tech company called Expanse. It was known for retail sales, but also did lots of behind-the-scenes technology for companies—servers, cloud computing, and other stuff he didn’t fully understand. It wasn’t his area of expertise. Boone was good with a gun and hand-to-hand combat, not computers.

What he’d told Rex rattled around in his head. He could definitely contact his old commander. A man Boone trusted with his life. If anyone could find out what was going on, it would be Vander Norcross.

There’d been no mention of Gemma’s abduction in the news. That was weird. Why would her family not get a word out, to get people looking for her?

Right now, he had lots of questions and no answers.

He sliced the axe into a log, then left it. He scanned the growing darkness. Time for a quick perimeter check. His boots crunched on the twigs and dead leaves as he strode across the grass. He wanted to ensure that the high-tech sensors he had along the boundary were all in order.

He didn’t want anyone sneaking up on him.

Boone also made a quick trip down to the riverbank to collect his fishing gear and his other pair of boots. On the way back, he studied his cabin. He suddenly wished he’d renovated the main house. It would be bigger, nicer for Gemma.

He shook his head.

She wouldn’t be staying long. When she woke up, they’d talk and make a plan.

Before he knew it, Gemma Newhouse would be out of his life. Nothing but a distant memory.





Mmm, there was nothing like being warm and cozy with morning light filtering into the room.

Except her comforter felt like wool and smelled like man.

Gemma blinked her eyes open and saw a whole lot of rustic cabin. She blinked again.

Her LA apartment was not rustic. The closest thing to rustic was the granite in her kitchen.

She sat up fast, then snatched the blanket closer. Oh God, she was naked.

What had happened? Her heart raced. She swallowed, her mouth so dry. Her head ached and her feet stung as well.

She scooched to the end of the couch. There was a side table with a hardback book and a glass of water resting on it. Some memories peppered her, making her heart race faster.

She’d been grabbed off the street in LA. Dragged into a van. Abducted.

Her breathing sped up, her hand twisted in the blanket. She was regretting telling her father she refused to have security dogging her every step. She’d had guards as a kid and she’d vowed to escape that once she became an adult.

But someone had drugged her, tied her up. It got blurry after that. She remembered traveling somewhere. The sound of being on a plane—that familiar drone.

Oh, hell. Where was she? Was she even in the USA anymore? Fear cramped her belly, and her fingers twisted in the blanket.

Then… Then… She pressed a palm to the side of her head. It hurt so much to think.

Wait. She’d been in a vehicle, and they’d pulled over and she’d escaped. She’d gotten her bindings loose and run. She’d run into trees and…

Ugh, why couldn’t she remember?

She knew her name was Gemma Charlotte Newhouse. She lived in LA. She’d recently starred on the baking show Cake and Bake. She loved sugar. All kinds of sugar—brown, white, raw, powdered, caster. She knew she could make a mean chocolate cake, and a mouthwatering soufflé, and her macarons rocked. But the last twenty-four hours were a blurry, shadowy mess.

The door of the cabin opened.

She stiffened. The man was tall. His muscular frame filled the doorway, and her heart kicked her ribs. The light behind him put his face in shadow.

A squeak escaped her, and fear exploded like a bag of dropped flour. She leaned over, grabbed the hardback off the table, and tossed it.

The man was fast. He dodged, and the book hit the floor.

“What the hell?” His voice was deep and smooth.

Gemma tucked her legs up, trying to get air into her lungs.

The man stepped forward, and now she saw his face. Bad guys shouldn’t be so handsome.

He was frowning at her as a German Shepherd walked around him, then headed straight for Gemma.

She tensed, but the dog nudged her, looking friendly.

“Gemma, are you all right?”

Her gaze flew back to the man. Her brain registered that he didn’t look threatening. And…his face was ruggedly handsome. There was nothing smooth about him, but he had a strong jaw combined with a long, muscled body. He was the kind of guy who’d be cast as the hero in an action movie.