“What’s in my bedroom?” Joy demanded, refusing to yield an inch. “Cameras? Listening devices?”
The flicker in his eyes confirmed everything. White-hot rage fueled her strength.
“You sick—” She broke off as he twisted the bat sharply, nearly wrenching it from her grasp.
His fingers closed around her wrist, squeezing painfully. Joy immediately dropped her weight, another thing Bear had taught her, and used Daniel’s own momentum to throw him off-balance. As he staggered, she executed a perfect elbow strike to his ribs.
He wheezed but recovered with alarming speed. He grabbed for her throat.
She ducked under his arm, driving her shoulder into his chest while simultaneously hooking her foot behind his ankle. The classic takedown worked perfectly. He crashed to the floor, and she immediately followed through by bringing the bat down across his legs to prevent him from rising.
He howled in pain, curling protectively around his injured limb. But as Joy backed away, preparing for another attack, Daniel pulled a knife from a sheath at his waist.
“You’ve ruined everything,” he snarled, struggling to his feet despite his injury. “Months of planning wasted because you couldn’t keep sleeping in that stupid playhouse—surveilling you was so much easier out there. The perfect setup. I was collecting crucial information for my story.”
“What?”
“When you moved back in here, I had to change everything. Set up cameras inside. You were the key to this whole thing.”
His words made no sense, but the knife in his hand spoke with terrifying clarity.
“If I’m arrested, my story dies with me. It’s too important.” He inched closer, his intention with the knife unmistakable. “I’ll have to make it look like one more trauma victim who couldn’t handle it—chose to end her life. Small-town tragedy.” His eyes lit with a disturbing gleam. “That will actually strengthen my narrative.”
He lunged across the island with unexpected speed. But Joy was done retreating, done being prey for this man or any other. She advanced with restrained fury, meeting his charge head on. The bat connected with his shoulder with a sickening crack. He howled, stumbling backward.
Joy pressed her advantage, no longer afraid. He fumbled for his knife, but his injured arm slowed him down. Joy saw her opening and took it, sweeping the bat in an arc that connected with his head.
The impact reverberated up her arms. Daniel’s eyes rolled back, and he collapsed to the floor like a puppet with cut strings.
Joy stood over him, chest heaving, bat still raised. Her wrist throbbed where he’d grabbed her, but adrenaline kept the pain at bay. She quickly kicked the knife away from his unconscious form.
The front door crashed open with such force it could have been ripped from its hinges. Bear’s voice bellowed her name, raw with panic.
“In the kitchen,” she called back.
Footsteps pounded through the house, and then Bear burst into the kitchen, his expression wild with fear and rage. He froze for a split second, taking in the scene—Daniel unconscious on the floor, Joy standing victorious above him, bat still gripped in her hands.
“Joy.” Her name escaped him like a prayer as he crossed to her in three powerful strides.
“I’m okay,” she assured him, finally lowering the bat. “He had a knife. He was going to kill me.”
He cupped her face with exquisite gentleness, his eyes scanning her for injuries. “Are you hurt?”
“Just my wrist. I’m fine, Bear. Really.”
The tension in his shoulders eased slightly, though his expression remained thunderous as he turned to look at Daniel.
“He installed cameras in the house,” Joy explained, her voice steadier now. “Said something about theperfect setupand asmall-town tragedy.”
Bear’s face transformed into something dangerous and predatory—the Marine combat veteran emerging beneath the small-town mechanic.
“We’ll call Callum,” he said, his voice so controlled it was almost frightening. “Then sit you down before your adrenaline crash hits.”
Bear efficiently zip-tied Daniel’s wrists and ankles with restraints from his truck’s emergency kit. His movements were precise, economical, utterly professional. Yet beneath that control, she could see the barely contained fury in the tightness of his jaw, the rigid set of his shoulders. Daniel was already moaning and waking up.
“You did good, Bug,” Bear said quietly. “Better than good.”
Joy nodded, suddenly overwhelmed by bone-deep exhaustion as the adrenaline began to ebb. She staggered toward the kitchen table, her legs suddenly unreliable.
