Courage Dares Read Online Free PDF

nose— souvenirs of his encounter with Connor’s fist. He wore no mask this time, evidently not caring if he was identified or not.
    So it would go from robbery to murder.
    "You!" Connor exclaimed, his gut tightening to ward off the shock of a bullet. He looked down the black hole of the Baretta’s barrel. He stood seconds away from dying.
    The thug alerted to flash-point, ready to kill, his hand shaking with the force of his intent. He kept the Baretta aimed directly at Connor, and smiled— a smile that transformed the warm coziness of Mary's room into shards of crystalline ice.
    "Well, lookee here." His thin lips cured back in a travesty of a grin as he gloated. "My lucky day."
    "Shoot— and all the neighbors’ll come to see what’s happening," Connor warned.
    "If I shoot, they'll think it's on TV," the thug said, smirking, but Connor could see caution infiltrate the wildness in his gaze. “They always do. Don’t wanna git mixed up in anything that would hurt ‘em.” He scowled at the suitcase. “What’re you doing?”
    “Packing Mary’s things.” Connor stepped closer to it. He could use it to deflect the barrel. He only needed to get close enough to use his martial arts.
    "Wes?" A man's voice snapped out from the other room. "Find anyone?" It was a voice used to command— the type of voice Connor used on the men serving under him.
    "Yeah. That bozo Ramone and I ran into earlier. You want I should waste him?"
    Connor tensed, ready to grab the suitcase.
    "Not yet. Bring him here."
    Frowning, his desire for revenge put on hold for the moment, Wes motioned toward the other room with his head. "You heard the boss. Now move!" Hate boiled in his words as he moved away from the door, not giving Connor a chance to attack.
    Connor cursed himself silently for not grabbing Mary as soon as he saw her and hustling her out the door. She would have screamed bloody murder, but he might’ve gotten her away.
    It was what he had wanted to do, what he should have done. Anger raged through him— anger at this evil man and anger at his own hesitation, which had failed to remove Mary from danger.
    Defeat was unacceptable to him— he had never been beaten in anything that mattered. He stepped through the doorway and quickly assessed the situation. Two more men stood in the living room— a tall lanky man standing guard just inside the door and a heavy-set man with bull-dog jowls about the same height as Connor himself, positioned in front of the kitchen nook. Connor didn't think either of them was the man he had seen at his mother's home— but that one had worn a mask.
    Three men. Two armed with handguns and the third with a knife. With his Navy combat training, Connor knew he might fight and overpower two before they could kill him, but not three. And not with Mary as a potential hostage.
    If he hadn't broken down the door, he and Mary might’ve heard the men as they tried to get in. It would’ve warned them sufficiently to flee out the back window.
    Some rescuer he’d turned out to be.
    Mary stood near the bathroom door, her arms crossed in front like a shield. At least she’d had time to dress in jeans and a shapeless white sweat shirt, even if it did have a teddy bear embroidered on the front. He didn't want these scum-bags having the same image of her that he carried in his mind. Her comeliness had aroused more than just his protective instincts.
    Terror shadowed her lovely gray eyes, but he knew she no longer feared him. In response to her unspoken plea, Connor continued across the room to where she stood, ready to impose himself between her and these goons. She hurtled herself into his arms as he reached out to her, then clung with all the desperation of a lost child. Sharp tremors shook her body as he clamped her securely against him.
    He didn't blame her for trembling. He held her tightly, feeling the warmth of her body against his. He breathed in the sweet jasmine fragrance of the shampoo that still lingered on