Free Storming His Heart by Marie Harte Page B

of well-placed blows. The blond rejoined the assault with the two remaining men and knocked him to the ground. One grabbed for Rafe’s ankles while another tried to shove a syringe in his arm. The blond yanked his head back by the hair.
    “Hit him in the neck, Dickens.”
    Rafe bucked and kicked the man holding his legs in the face hard enough to put him out of commission. He grabbed the syringe and managed to stab the blond with it. Then he tackled his last standing opponent. After suffering a few more blows to his ribs, he choked the man unconscious. When Rafe was able, he stood on shaky legs and hurried to his cell phone after retrieving his gun.
    He called Storm, who answered on the second ring. “Hello?”
    “Where are you?”
    “Rafe? You don’t sound so good. What’s wrong?”
    “Where are you?” he repeated.
    “Don’t get huffy. I’m just getting ready to leave the house.”
    “Don’t. Call your brothers and sit tight.” He rubbed his side, annoyed to feel the bruises starting to throb.
    “Rafe? What’s wrong?” The worry in her voice soothed some weird part of him, because he liked that she was concerned.
    “I’ll explain it to you when I can. But I think you might be in danger. Don’t leave the house, and lock your doors. I’ll come as soon as I can.”
    He hung up and called Westlake. Assured a team was on the way, he then contacted Jurek specifically. Before he hung up, dull thuds impacted, shaking the bodies of the groaning men lying in the dirt.
    Rafe dropped to the ground in seconds. He scooted under the car, but by then the shots had ceased.
    Rafe called on his prognostication and watched as he, Jurek and a dozen agents in the yard surrounded five dead men. Frustrated, he slowly stood, favoring his right side, and looked around. Nothing but more questions with no answers. And worse, his date with Storm was shot all to hell.

Chapter Six
     
    Storm shifted on her belly in bed, restless. She glared at her alarm clock. One in the morning, and still no further word from Rafe. Luc had taken her spare bedroom while Max and Thorne took care of some project they couldn’t get away from. After speaking with her, Rafe had called his boss, who in turn had called Max. She knew from her uncle that Rafe was alive and well. It would have been nice if Rafe had called her to explain things. She wanted to know what the hell had happened.
    So much for her big date and the little black dress she’d purchased.
    She sighed and decided to make a cup of tea. Maybe that would help calm her nerves. She rolled onto her back then froze. Two shadows leaned over her bed. One stuck the muzzle of a pistol in her belly.
    “Don’t move, and don’t make a sound.”
    Both intruders appeared male, and both were covered in black from head to toe. She tried to see their features but couldn’t due to the darkness of her room. The taller one on the right reached with a gloved hand and yanked the covers off her. Because Luc had spent the night, she wore her more prim pajamas, a cotton shirt and pant set.
    She tensed even more at the thought of her brother. What had they done to him? Did they know he was in the house?
    “Watch her,” the taller one ordered as he tucked his gun behind him. His companion nodded and stepped to the side, his gun still poking her stomach.
    “Your boyfriend is out cold. He’ll wake with a headache. Unless you want a bullet in his brain, no sudden moves.”
    “No moves. Okay.”
    The shorter man stepped back and the taller one pulled her off the bed to her feet.
    Storm’s mind raced. She needed to do something before they took away her hands. At least now she was in a much less vulnerable position.
    “Wait!” she whispered and put her hands up to wave the large man back. “What are you doing here? Who are you? What’s going on?”
    “All in good time, sweetheart,” the shorter man holding the pistol promised. “We’re not here to chit-chat. You come with us and you’ll get your