Hell, yes. No doubt. That’s my girl.

Not that he needed the distraction, but Winters took full advantage of it. He snapped the man’s neck and let go. His only concern was gathering Mia against his chest. He tried to calm her, brushing off the leaves and sticks clinging to her. She thrashed wild. Each limb fought for freedom.

“Let me go.” Her speech was slurred, but it didn’t keep her from shouting.

With one arm around her torso, he attempted to put a hand on her cheek and direct her gaze to him. To assure her that she was safe again. She bit down hard on his finger.

“Son of a bitch!” He didn’t let go of her waist, but her struggle lessened a degree as she recognized him, trying to piece it together.

“What?” Her confusion evident in her unfocused eyes.

“Calm down, Mia. It’s me. Colby.” He hushed her, whispering in her ear and trying to counteract her reaction to whatever drug had knocked her out. His lips danced across her temple. Her silken skin was like heaven. “You were drugged, but you’re okay.”

She hung limp in his arm. Her hard breathing regulated, and her shaking slowed to a gentle shiver. “I thought you liked to be called Winters.”

He laughed. The comment was absurd. Her mind didn’t work like other victims, and it fascinated the hell out of him.

He placed her on bare feet, holding her shoulders to keep her upright. As he murmured to her, he smoothed a stray strand of hair. They had to get a move on. But he needed one more minute to confirm she was alive. That she was his. “You’re a funny girl, you know that? Are you okay?”

“That’s a ridiculous question.” She scowled at him, trying to get her balance. Her arms counteracted her sway, outstretched and wavering. Her words slurred, but she didn’t try to dust him away like a pestering fly.

Winters laughed again, a smile staying on his cheeks. This is my kind of woman. No bullshit and plenty of sass. She impressed him, and it wasn’t the first or second time she’d pulled that card.

“Ready to get out of here, doll?”

She nodded, but still, she wobbled, bracing against him. Her palms on his chest, though unsure and drugged, did a hell of a thing to him. He ran his hands over her forearms and dropped to her waist. It was more possessive than steadying.

“Then let’s go. I just need to figure out where their car might have been.”

She slipped her hands over his and turned to walk. He took one step in the direction of the highway, then dropped his gaze to her bare feet and the underbrush. With an easy swing, he lofted her into his arms. She didn’t fight him and fit perfect against his chest like the missing piece in a jigsaw puzzle.

She rubbed against his shoulder, bemoaning her lack of strength and judgment. He ignored her words and focused on her nuzzling him. There was no denying how satisfying it was to hold her.