Page 63 of Her Noble Protector

He pushed back her dark hair from her face and saw the bruising there. “Is that why he hit you in the face—you made him mad?”

She nodded.

She didn’t need his anger—it wasn’t going to do a damn bit of good—so Raiden did everything in his power to dial it back. What Lisa needed was his help, his care.

“Where else are you hurting?” he asked as he cut the bindings around her ankles.

“Kicked me pretty good in the ribs. I think one might be broken.”

He hissed in a breath. He was not going to be able to reign this shit in. “Fuck, baby.”

“Found zip-ties. Going to tie their asses up for the cops.” Clint called from somewhere behind him.

“He broke her finger and a rib. Tie him tight and make him bleed,” Raiden yelled back to Clint over his shoulder, then he turned back to her. “Lisa, I’ve got to go get Clint’s truck and bring it closer so we can get you inside and to the hospital, okay?” he said softly.

Her left hand flew out and gripped his wrist. “Don’t leave me, Raiden.”

Curiosity was gone, pain was there, and he saw her fighting back the fear in those beautiful brown eyes. She was magnificent. But if she needed him there to help fight back the fear, he wasn’t leaving.

“Clint?” Raiden called out.

“Yeah.”

“When you’re done, go get the truck. I’m not leaving Lisa.”

“Roger that.”

Lisa and Raiden continued to stare at one another, even after Clint left, not saying a word to one another, until finally, Raiden broke the silence.

“The other night I said you were special, do you remember?”

Lisa’s eyes got wide. “I remember.”

“Well, I was wrong. You’re magnificent.”

17

It had been a blur at the hospital. They kept her tucked in a corner behind some curtains before they’d sent her home. When she wasn’t being examined, she was talking to the police. They kept at her for hours, until she saw Clint wrangling the detective’s questions to a close. The cops were going to leave in ten, fifteen minutes tops with the way Clint was maneuvering them out of their chairs, but Raiden had had enough.

“Everybody out!” he roared. The two detectives’ eyes shot to him.

“You’ve been asking the same damned questions eighty different ways for the last forty-five minutes. We’re done here. Out!” Raiden pointed to the gap in the drapes.

“We’re done when we say we’re done,” the younger male detective said.

Clint and the older female detective shook their heads, knowing that had been the wrong thing to say.

“Give me your badge number,” Raiden demanded.

“Raiden, I have his card,” Lisa interrupted. “His badge number is on it.”

“Frank, we’re going.” The other detective said as she stood up. “Ms. Garcia, if you think of anything else, please call us.”

Frank looked pissed but he followed his partner out.

Lisa watched as Raiden gave Clint a look, then he too turned and followed the detectives through the curtains. Raiden then sat down in the chair next to her bed. She watched him as he took in her finger that had been put in a splint and then his gaze trailed up to her face.

“How bad are you hurting?” he asked.