Into the Fury (BOSS, Inc. #1)(52)

It was over.

In seconds, he had the two men cuffed and sitting on the floor, their backs propped against the wall. When he looked up, he saw Val standing in the doorway in her stage robe, her eyes wide, a silent O on her lips.

“Everything’s under control, Val. Go back to your dressing room.”

Her gaze swung to Hernandez, who sat up on the floor with a groan. “What . . . what about Pete?”

He was only a little surprised she knew Pete’s name. She seemed to have a way of connecting with people, didn’t matter where they were in the food chain.

Pete unfolded himself and started rubbing his temple, his lip swelling, his jaw already turning purple. “You don’t need to worry, Ms. Hart. I’m okay.”

“Let me take a look. You might have a concussion.” She moved toward him, careful not to look at the two men on the floor. Ethan pulled out his radio and keyed it, called for backup from Dirk, told him to get the show doc, and inform the police they had intruders subdued in the set-building room off the east wing.

“Sorry, Ethan,” Pete said as Val knelt next to him. She took the hem of his T-shirt and dabbed it against his bloody lip. “They got the jump on me. I didn’t get a chance to use my radio. I’d just checked the room a few minutes earlier.”

“Do you have a headache?” Val asked, urging him to lie back in the only clean spot on the sawdust-covered floor.

“I guess.”

“How’s your vision. Is it blurry?”

Ethan could see Pete didn’t want to answer. He was a nice guy, but he was still a man, and Val was a beautiful woman.

“Tell her,” Ethan said. “You need to get this handled.”

Pete sighed. “All right, yes. My eyes are fuzzy and my head hurts like a pendejo.”

Ethan’s lips twitched. He glanced up to see Dirk bowling through the door, the show doctor on his heels.

“I’ve got this,” the doctor said, nudging Val aside. She stood up, pulling her robe a little closer, but Ethan still caught a glimpse of a long, pretty leg.

“If you need anything,” she said to the doctor. “If I can help with anything—”

“No. I’ve got everything I need in my case.”

She glanced at Ethan. “What about those two?”

He looked at the two men, banged up, handcuffed, and bleeding. He wondered what she’d been thinking as she’d watched him take down the men.

“They’re all right. Go on, Val. We’ve got this covered.”

Pete seemed relieved when she started for the door.

“How’d the a-holes get in?” Dirk asked the minute she disappeared out of sight.

Pete pointed up. “Came in through the window. This place is old. I don’t think the exterior alarm on the window is working.” He grimaced as the doctor pressed a gauze pad against his bloody lip.

Dirk’s gaze went from Pete to the men with the bound hands and surly attitudes. “Nice work,” Dirk said to Ethan, grinning as he surveyed the shambles he and Pete had made of the construction room.

Ethan grunted. “I’ve been needing a good workout.”

Dirk glanced back at the men. “So these guys decided to volunteer as a couple of punching bags.”

Ethan flexed his fingers, unable to stop a smile.

“Probably locals,” Dirk said, glancing back to the window. “Guys who’ve broken in before, so they knew how to get in.”

“Probably. Listen, the cops’ll be here any minute. They’re gonna want a statement. Go check on Val, will you? Make sure she’s okay. Then take a look around. If these two got in, there could be others.” He turned a hard look on the guy with the ponytail. “You got any more buddies inside?”

“Fuck off.”

“On my way,” Dirk said and headed for the door. Clearly, they wouldn’t be getting any help from the men.





Val still couldn’t believe how easily Ethan had handled the two street thugs. He’d been standing in the wings when she’d finished her last segment. Seconds later, a David Klein rep had appeared, retrieved the diamond necklace, put it in the portable safe he carried, and walked away.

She’d turned to see Ethan striding down the hall, and something in the urgent way he’d moved put her on alert. Grabbing a robe off the garment rack, she’d followed, watched him take on the two vicious men.

In a way, she was proud of him. He had handled the situation quickly and efficiently, with minimal injuries to either man. It was certainly reassuring to know she was in such capable hands.

In another way, it bothered her.

As a kid in foster care, she’d seen more than her share of violence. She’d hung out with other misfit teenagers, getting into one jam after another. At sixteen, she met Bobby Rodriguez, two years older, a member of a local gang. Bobby carried a gun and knew how to use it. She might have followed him down that same path if he hadn’t been killed.

Bobby’s death had changed her. Since the night he’d died in her arms, she’d done everything in her power to stay away from any sort of trouble. She was determined there would never be any more violence in her life.

It was one of the reasons she’d decided to become a veterinarian. She’d learned to love animals on her foster parents’ farm, learned that animals were a lot easier to deal with than gangbangers, drug dealers, and street thugs.