Into the Fury (BOSS, Inc. #1)(70)

He just grunted. “Make a sound and I’ll cut your pretty throat.” He reached for his zipper and, one-handed, buzzed it down.

Val crept closer. Izzy made a small, terrified sound as the man started to free himself.

Val grabbed the handle of the curling iron, jerked her weapon into the air, and swung it with all her strength. The barrel smashed into the side of the man’s head, knocking him sideways away from Izzy, the knife flying out of his hand.

“Bitch!”

“Run!” Val screamed, rushing forward, swinging her makeshift weapon again before the man could recover, the barrel connecting hard with his jaw, sending him sprawling again. Isabel raced out of the room as the man crashed against the wall, then slid onto the floor with a groan.

Val raced toward him. Gripping the curling iron, she braced her legs apart and got ready to take another swing.

“Jesus Christ Almighty!” The roar of Ethan’s voice stirred a rush of relief so strong she felt dizzy. He strode into the room, followed by Dirk and a pale-faced, trembling Izzy.

Dirk went for the guy on the floor as Ethan moved up behind Val. He wrapped his arms around her waist and tried to ease the curling iron from her hand, but Val couldn’t seem to let go.

“It’s all right, baby,” he said softly. “We’ve got him. Everything’s under control.”

The guy didn’t even struggle as Dirk jerked him to his feet, whirled him around, and slammed him face-first against the wall. Dirk kicked his legs apart, dragged his hands behind his back, and bound them with a plastic tie.

Val still gripped her weapon.

“Come on, honey, everything’s okay. Let me have it.”

When her fingers finally relaxed, he eased the curling iron from her hand and tossed it onto the sofa but kept his arm around her waist.

“You okay?”

She had been. Now she wasn’t. She prayed she wouldn’t throw up. “That man . . . he tried . . . he attacked Izzy.”

“I know, baby.” Ethan cast a glance at Izzy’s attacker, his eyes wild, clearly high on something, now trussed up and harmless.

Val felt Ethan’s muscles relax. A few feet away, Isabel stood shaking. Val wanted to go to her, but she was afraid if she moved her legs wouldn’t hold her up.

“What’s your name?” Ethan asked the man on the floor.

When the guy didn’t answer, Dirk whacked him on the back of the head. “Answer the man’s question.”

“Fuck you,” the guy said.

Dirk whacked him again. “Tell the man your name.”

“Strickler,” he said darkly.

“He doesn’t fit Mahler’s description,” Ethan said, his arm still around Val’s waist, holding her back against his front. “Check his forearms just to be sure.”

Dirk looked him over. “No scars. Nothing there.” He jerked the man’s head up to get a better view. “Wait a minute. I know this guy. He was up on the catwalk working the lights.” He hauled the man to his feet, jerking Strickler’s bound arms up behind his back until he grunted in pain. “Now you’re on your way to jail for attempted rape, you stupid f*ck.”

The guy spit on the floor. “I was just taking what these bitches dish out to everyone else. I read the papers, I seen those notes they got. Sluts and whores. I was just giving the bitch what she deserved.”

Izzy whimpered. Val took a deep breath, broke free of Ethan’s hold, walked over, and pulled Isabel into a hug. “It’s okay. It’s over. He can’t hurt us now.”

Footsteps sounded at the door. “Holy crap!” Meg walked into the room, the story apparently spreading like wildfire backstage. Her eyes went to the bound man, whose face was already turning purple on one side. “The police are on the way. Did Val do that?”

“She saved me,” Isabel said with what seemed awe.

Meg’s blue eyes swept over Dirk and Ethan in their snug black T-shirts, faces hard, muscles bulging.

She cocked a dark red eyebrow. “So . . . why do we need all these macho bodyguard types when we’ve got Valentine Hart?”

Ethan chuckled. Val felt the reluctant tilt of her lips, and even Isabel smiled.





Ethan sat next to Val, who had just eased down on the sofa in her suite. Across from them, Dirk slid in beside Meg in one of the overstuffed chairs and lifted her into his lap.

Benny Strickler, Isabel’s attacker, had been hauled off to jail, and the police had taken the statements of all the parties involved. They were back at the hotel and they were exhausted.

Ethan reached out and gently lifted Val’s chin, bringing her pretty blue eyes to his face. “You did good today, baby. Real good.” He still couldn’t believe she’d taken on a hard-edged, knife-wielding scumbag and come out the winner. The woman continued to amaze him.

Not that taking on a rapist single-handed wasn’t a dangerous, insane thing to do, which he intended to have a very firm discussion about once they were alone.

“Nice work, sweetheart,” Dirk said. He slid an arm around Meg, who didn’t seem entirely pleased about it. “You’re a helluva lot tougher than you look.”

“She doesn’t need to be tough,” Ethan said darkly. “She needs to be safe. Either Boudreau cancels the rest of the tour or she’s quitting. Her safety has to come first.”