Wrath's Storm: A Masters' Admiralty Novel Mari Carr (great books of all time .txt) 📖

see the laptop screen. Hoping that the camera would have shifted again. Would show her what had become of the men she loved.

God, she loved them. Both of them.

Her stalker slapped her, hard enough to make her ears ring.

“Pay attention to me!” he snarled. “You can’t hide. You’re mine. Mine!”

“No, I’m not, and I never will be, you delusional, pathetic waste of humanity.” There was no heat in her words, only disgust.

He screamed in her face, his spittle hitting her cheek. Annalise turned her face away, breathing hard through her nose.

“I won’t cut your hair. I only cut hers so I wouldn’t be tricked again.” He was on his knees, scrambling for the knife. “But there are other places I can cut. So you’ll know you’re mine.”

“But you protect me,” Annalise said firmly, though she was trembling. “Is that protecting? Or are you the one I need protecting from?”

He raised his hands, including the one now holding the knife, and clamped his hands over his ears. “Shut up!”

“No, you have to decide. Do you want to love me or hurt me? It cannot be both.”

“I said shut up.” The hand holding the knife rose.

Annalise tensed to roll out of the way.

The caravan door exploded inward, bouncing against the wall and ricocheting back only to be arrested by Jakob as he barreled into the opening.

He was dirty, his shirt torn, blood on his face and lips, but he was here.

And alive.

“No!” Her stalker screamed the denial, turning toward Jakob. She could see fear in his expression.

He still held the knife, and he was far closer to her than Jakob, though given the size of the camper, the distance wasn’t great. But she knew she was still in danger.

Or would have been if Jakob hadn’t taken one big step, half turned, and lashed out with one foot, kicking her stalker so hard in the face that his head snapped back.

Blood spurted and her stalker slumped to the floor, knife clattering from his hand. Jakob took two more steps, grabbed the man’s head, shoved it down, compressing his neck, and then twisted with a short, sharp jerking motion.

Annalise scrambled to her hands and knees, crawling as far as the chain would allow. Then Jakob was there, crouching in front of her, his dark eyes haunted. He started to reach for her, but stopped, his hand hovering in the air between them.

Walt bounded in, dropping to his knees beside them. Without hesitation, he gathered Annalise into his arms, then pulled Jakob in too.

It was then—safe and in their arms—that Annalise started to sob.

Chapter Fifteen

Walt stood by the hotel window, looking down on the busy street below them, replaying yesterday’s events over and over. Annalise had fallen apart in their arms after they’d found her. It was as if she’d stored up too many years’ worth of tears and they all came out at once, the dam breaking.

It had ripped his heart out, hearing the unadulterated terror and anguish in her cries.

He glanced back at the bed, feeling the need to check on her again. He’d felt that same need every few minutes since he’d woken up.

She was still in the center of the mattress, her arm curled over Jakob’s waist. Jakob lay on his back, one arm around her shoulders, tucking her close to him, the other thrown above his head.

Both of them were dead to the world.

Not that Walt was surprised. It felt as if they’d lived ten lifetimes in just a few days.

Given the pain-free, peaceful way Jakob slept, it was apparent the effects from the bullet ant sting had subsided. Walt grinned as he recalled Jakob’s reaction to the nerve blocker. The medication hadn’t just loosened the tension and burning agony in his muscles. It had loosened his tongue as well, allowing Jakob to speak every thought, every feeling aloud. During the course of the day, he’d revealed quite a bit about his love for Annalise.

Walt hoped Jakob wouldn’t retreat back to his silence. He enjoyed hearing his thoughts and for such a seemingly serious, stoic man, Jakob had a great sense of humor and a very dirty mind. Walt shook his head when his thoughts traveled to the sexy activities that had been interrupted by the fire alarm.

He wasn’t sure how to return them to that moment.

No, he wasn’t sure if he should.

Walt didn’t have a clue how long he and Jakob had held Annalise on the floor of that caravan before Vadisk had cleared his throat and told them he was going to make sure the car they’d arrived in hadn’t been damaged by the blast. Really, Vadisk had been giving them a few minutes to pull themselves together, as well as telling them it was time to leave.

It spoke to Walt’s intense fear for Annalise’s well-being that he’d forgotten about the man lying just a few feet away from them.

Walt had released Jakob and Annalise, crawling over to Axel’s body. He’d witnessed the kick, seen Jakob’s boot connect with Axel’s face, and he’d known immediately that the man was dead. And if that hadn’t done it, the terrifyingly professional and efficient way Jakob had broken the man’s neck would have.

Walt had taken a pulse, but hadn’t searched for a breath. Axel had died instantly, his spinal cord snapped. Most likely if they looked on an X-ray, he would have died from atlanto-occipital dislocation—commonly referred to as an internal decapitation.

After that, things had moved in slow motion, as every action felt like they were performing it neck-deep in thick mud. A fog had settled in all their brains, their motions performed by rote. They’d found a clean T-shirt and sweatpants in the caravan—Annalise’s clothing had been sliced to ribbons—and helped her dress, then Jakob had carried her to the car.

Vadisk had promised to call and make arrangements for someone to take care of the clean-up at the site, then he’d driven them—in a car that now sported some serious dents and a missing back passenger window—to the hotel