Fighting the Fire: A Warrior Fight Club Novel

by Kaye, Laura

  She hadn’t told him that story. He doubted she told anyone that story. But that other medic had told people who’d told people, and it’d eventually reached him when he mentioned to a buddy that he knew her. That was how much of a bad-ass Daniela England was.

  “Yeah, I’m sure you can do it,” she said, arching a brow. “But why risk further hurting yourself? You and I both know the longer you’re out of work, the more stir-crazy you’re going to go.”

  He registered her take-charge expression as sexy as fuck even though his body was in no damn position to act on such a thought. Not that she’d want him to, of course. They’d been there, done that, and even though it’d been fucking awesome, he wasn’t sure if she or he had backed off faster. It was entirely possible that Dani was the female version of him when it came to relationships. Hell, maybe that was part of what attracted him. “Fine,” he said.

  She grasped his wrist where it hung around her shoulder, gently grabbed him under his other arm, and slowly lifted him up until he could grab the top of the car door to help himself the rest of the way. “Teamwork makes the dream work,” she deadpanned.

  He chuckled—or started to. Except, ow. “Don’t make me laugh.”

  “Sorry,” she said, a hint of amusement in her tone.

  Sean turned toward her which, given the way her arm was still around him, brought them nearly chest to chest. That was fine by him for what he had to say. “And quit apologizing to me. I’m the one who’s totally imposed on your schedule.”

  The humor bled out of her expression. “But I owe you an apology.”

  He searched her black eyes and saw nothing but sincerity. “How do you figure that?”

  Her shoulders dropped, but she met his gaze head on. “Because I was a bitch to you yesterday.”

  “I don’t remember that.” Not even anything remotely close to that.

  Dani smirked then stepped away, and then retrieved a duffle from the back seat. “Yeah, well, your head gave the street a handshake last night so that’s to be expected.”

  He winced at the simple fucking action of closing the car door. No wonder the doc benched his ass for the next couple of weeks. “I remember enough, D. Tell me you’re not talking about what happened at fight club.”

  “You should’ve let me close that.” She locked the car and started up the sidewalk that ran through his narrow backyard.

  “Nice deflection.”

  The glare she threw him was vintage Daniela. “I’m not deflecting, asshole. I’m trying to help you.”

  Chuckling had him pressing his hand to his chest. “Ow, stop fucking making me laugh. And you are helping me which is why there’s absolutely nothing you need to apologize for. I was the one who caused all the bullshit yesterday at WFC anyway.”

  “Sean—”

  “No, dude, we’re not relitigating this. Case closed.” They reached the covered patio that led to his backdoor, and it took a stupid amount of effort to get his keys out of his jeans pocket.

  “Dude.” She sniggered under her breath.

  “What?” he asked, nailing her with a stare after finally retrieving the keyring.

  “You called me dude. You’re like the guyest guy ever.”

  “Fuckin’ A.” He opened the door. “I’ll take that as a compliment. After you.”

  Dani stepped inside, into the mud room surrounded on one side by a full bathroom and on the other by his laundry room. Beyond sat his family room, aka his man cave, a comfortable and cool-as-shit space that he’d given over to his love of superheroes and comic books. He hit the lights and waited for her to bust his balls.

  She dropped her bag on one of the over-stuffed chairs, walked around the space, and scanned her gaze over the whole of it. Over the long black leather couch with the group of tall, stylized, red-and-white superhero portraits above. Over the black media center with all its shelves, mementos, and electronics. Over the bar in the corner, with three stools arrayed along the front and mirrored shelves holding liquor behind. All around, kick-ass 3-D art deco lights of Cap’s shield, Thor’s hammer, Super Man’s sign, Spiderman’s hand, and Iron Man’s mask cast warm colors over the room.

  “So…you like superheroes, then.”

  He crossed his arms, then quickly uncrossed them when he realized his chest was having none of it. “Shut up.”

  Her eyes went wide. “What? I didn’t say anything.”

  “You didn’t have to.”

  “Seriously, it’s cool.”

  He gave her a look. “Don’t bullshit a bullshitter.”

  “I’m not.” She quirked a grin that was too sexy for him to get peeved. “Well maybe I’m making just a little fun, but mostly I think it’s cool. You should totally have a party down here. It would be awesome.” He watched as she moved about the room, ran her hand over the black marble of the bar top, and leaned in to look at a framed display of comic books. “What made you such a big fan of superheroes?”

  Sean shrugged, which turned out to be another gesture his body didn’t love, damnit. For a moment, he waged a mental debate, and then he came down on the side of what the fuck and spilled a little of his life. “I had a shit father who was also a shit cop, so the idea that there were people out there who were stronger and bigger and better, who were noble enough to do the right thing even when it wasn’t popular, and whose stories gave me an escape when my house was at its worse…” He nodded. “It made me a fan for life. Also, they’re kick-ass.”

  Daniela peered over at him then, and her gaze made him feel observed in a way that had him shifting on his feet. But then she nearly knocked him on his ass when she said, “I wish I’d known more about superheroes as a kid, then.”

  Did that mean she’d had a shit childhood, too? And how had they known each other for nearly five years and not known they had this in common. Maybe it was because you’re always trying to push her buttons, dickhead.

  Well. Yeah. Prolly.

  He could’ve played it off like their words didn’t hang in the air between them, weighted and important. But fuck, he was drugged, hurting, and exhausted out of his gourd. “Well, I could introduce you.”

  She grinned. “Introduce me how?”

  In for a penny, in for a pound, even though he felt like an idiot. “Movies,” he said. “You are a woman in serious need of a movie marathon.”

  “And you think you’re the man to educate me?” She arched a playful eyebrow. And fuck she was cute—a word she’d probably rip his balls off for uttering if he was ever stupid enough to do such a thing.

  “In so many things, Daniela. So. Many.”

  She flipped him the finger, and it made him laugh. Which made him cough. Which had him clutching at his chest.

  Dani was at his side in an instant. “Sit,” she said, guiding him to the big couch. “I shouldn’t have left you on your feet talking.”

  Finally, he caught his breath. “My feet might be the only thing on my body not hurting.” He pulled a smirk. “Well, not the only thing…”

  “Jesus, you’re relentless.” But there was no bite to it. Instead she was looking at him in this soft way—in a way no one ever looked at him.

  And fuck. He liked it.

  So he closed his eyes rather than chance getting used to it.

  “We should get you in bed.”

  Bed was two floors up. “I’m good here.”

  “You sure?” He nodded and heard her sigh. “Well, I should at least get you some clothes to change into and some pillows to prop you up. Plus, you’re due for meds again soon.”

  He peered up at her again, and thank God, that softness was gone. “You don’t have to do all this, you know.”

  Her lips pressed into a tight line. “Shut up, Riddick. Now, tell me where all your shit is so I can get you set up down here.”

  “Gimme your phone,” he said. When she hesitated, he rolled his eyes at her. “I already got your digits, D. I just want to log you into my WiFi.”

  She handed her cell over, her expression so
skeptical it made him chuff out a laugh. He made quick work of entering the password to log her on, and then he FaceTimed himself.

  “This way I can give you the guided tour of where things are while my ass is planted down here,” he said, answering her FaceTime on his phone.

  Her lips twisted. “That was pretty smart actually.”

  “Wait.” He nailed her with a one-eyed stare. “Just wait. I’ve got a head injury and I’m seriously embracing the miracles of modern chemistry right now, but I think, just maybe, that I heard you give me a compliment.”

  Now she was the one rolling her eyes. She peered into her phone. “Sean?”

  He looked at her through his screen, too. “Yes, Dani?”

  She flipped him her middle finger right into the camera, and then dragged the tip of it over her lips as if it were lipstick.

  “I think I’m aroused now,” he said.

  On a huff, she made for the stairs. “Just tell me where to find you some damn pillows so I can smother you with them.”

  Chapter Five

  “You ready for that education yet?” Sean asked in a gravelly voice.

  From where she sat in the oversized chair next to where he slept, Dani put down the book she’d been reading and smiled. “Hey. How’d you sleep?”

  “Decent,” he said, grimacing as he pushed himself into a sitting position.

  “Good. No more nightmares?”

  His expression went through a quick succession of emotions—confusion, something that looked a helluva lot like fear, and back to confusion again. This time with a healthy dose of guardedness. “When did I have a nightmare?”

  Clearly, she needed to back way off of this topic. “At the hospital this morning. No big deal after what you went through yesterday. You hungry at all?”

  When his features relaxed, she knew the topic change had been the right call. “Not really.”

  “You should eat something so you can take more meds.” She dropped the novel onto the coffee table, a military suspense she’d found on the shelves in Sean’s office.

  His unbandaged eye looked to the book cover. “That’s a good series.”

  She’d never pictured Sean being a reader before, and the image that popped into her brain of him lying in bed, shirtless—because why not shirtless?—holding a book in those big hands so he could read before going to sleep…that wasn’t a half bad image. Not half bad at all. And since she’d found a stack of books on his bedside table, she knew her thoughts weren’t just fantasy. Not that she was looking for reasons to find the sexy asshole any sexier. “Yeah? I’m enjoying it so far. Hope you don’t mind.”

  “‘Course not. The rest of them should be up there but if not I’ll find ‘em for you.” He heaved himself off the sofa and made for the bathroom. His gait had none of his usual swagger. “Let me think about food.”

  “’kay.”

  A few minutes later, Sean cracked the door and called out. “Jesus, it looks like I took a slug while wearing a vest.”

  Unsurprised to hear he was bruised, Dani moved to the door and leaned against the jamb. “How bad is it?”

  Sean opened the door the rest of the way, then returned to studying himself in the mirror. Holding his shirt up above the bruising gave Dani an eyeful of his muscled pecs and abdomen—and of the series of red and purple marks radiating out from the center of his chest from the blunt-force trauma of being thrown from his bike to the street. “Geez. I’m pretty sure you’d have less bruising if that was what’d happened.”

  He smirked. “Prolly. Always gotta be a damn overachiever.”

  The words had an undertone of sarcasm and humor, but they underscored for Dani something she’d never really noticed about him—how self-deprecating he was. Maybe it stood out to her now because she’d spent more time with him in the past two days than she probably ever had all at once before. Together with the revelation that he’d had a rough childhood, and it just represented that there were layers to this man she’d never given him credit for…

  Sean pressed his fingers against the bruising and grimaced.

  “Hey, I know what’ll help. I brought an ice therapy machine. It’s in my car. Be right back.”

  He nodded. “Turn the patio light on for yourself. Switch’s by the door.”

  Dani retrieved her keys from her purse and slipped out the back, glad for a little space to clear her head for just a minute of all things Sean Riddick, of the realization that there was a lot more to the man than the arrogance, sarcasm, and swagger that she associated with him. Why such a realization should matter, she didn’t know, because it changed nothing between them.

  The night air was heavy and close, and heat lightning flashed quietly across the sky. She grabbed the unit from the trunk of her car and returned to find Sean sitting on one of the bottom steps leading to the main floor. A voicemail played out on the speaker: “Yo, Riddick. Just wanted to let you know I was thinking about you and I hope you’re not too banged up. Was really sorry to hear about the accident. Shoot me a text when you’re feeling up to it.”

  When he looked up, Dani smiled. “Your phone went off a million times. I was surprised it didn’t wake you up.”

  He nodded. “I have a shit-ton of messages. Guys at the station.”

  “That’s really nice.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Hey, you never answered my question.”

  Dani blinked. “About what?”

  He waved a hand, indicating the superheroes surrounding them. “Watching some movies.”

  “I’ll watch movies if you’ll eat something.”

  His grin was immediate. The nurse in her was glad that something so small could so easily lift his spirits. “Deal.”

  She pointed to the unit she’d brought in from her car. “I’ll set this up with some ice water and fix something to eat. What would you like?”

  “Something low key.”

  “I did a little snooping while you were asleep to see what you had. So, maybe grilled cheese sandwiches?”

  “Ooh yeah. With tomato soup. There’s some in the pantry.”

  An unexpected pang squeezed her chest, because one of the memories she still had of her dad was of him teaching her to make a grilled cheese and then daring her to try it dunked in tomato soup—which her eight-year-old self had thought sounded gross until she tried it. Now it was a meal that always made her feel nostalgic. “Sounds good,” she said.

  “I can help.” He pulled himself up using the bannister.

  “I got it.”

  “D, I can microwave some damn Campbell’s.”

  She chuckled. “Fine.” She followed his slow climb up to his kitchen. That room wasn’t as sleek and modern as the style of his basement but was neat and tidy with its white cabinets and counters. The main spots of color in the room came from the black coffeemaker, a red bowl filled with apples and bananas that sat on the counter, and the set of salt and pepper shakers in the shape of two superheroes’ heads.

  They gathered what they needed and worked side by side, her at the stove, him at the microwave. And it was weirdly…nice.

  Dani used to love making meals with Anthony. The quiet intimacy of it. The way they’d move around each other, stealing kisses and touches and tastes. It’d been a lot of years since she’d last had that, and she hadn’t even realized she missed it until she stood next to freaking Sean Riddick making one of her all-time favorite casual meals. How had the guy made her think of both of father and her husband with just the stupid little enthusiastic suggestion of making tomato soup?

  She wasn’t sure. But it threw her off kilter a little, as if she was being pulled both back in time and forward into some unknown and unknowable future that she hadn’t yet decided to embrace. She flipped the sandwiches in the hot pan then peered over at Sean and found him concentrating really hard to pull the plastic seal off the top of the second microwavable soup bowl. “Need help?” she asked.

  His expression morphed from one of deep concentration to frustration. “No.�
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  Dani lowered the heat on her pan and covered it so the cheese got nice and melty. “You sure?”

  His frown deepened. “No, I’m gonna make this soup can my little bitch.”

  A smile was just cracking on Dani’s face when the plastic seal gave way so suddenly that the whole can went flying, sending soup arcing through the air and all over Sean.

  He froze with his hands out at his sides. “What…the shit….”

  Pressing a hand over her mouth, Dani turned off her burner and stared at the carnage that was the entire area around Riddick. A little puff of amused air escaped her effort to hold back from laughing her ass off.

  He pointed at her with a hand dripping with tomato. “Don’t. Say. A word.” With that, he turned toward her. Orange-red liquid covered his arm, his shirt, his jeans, one of his feet. There was even a splotch of it under his good eye.

  “Are you okay?” she whispered, because if she let herself do more than whisper, she was going to legit lose it.

  He arched a brow. He might’ve looked fierce if it hadn’t been for, you know, the freaking tomato soup explosion. “You mean, besides looking like an extra in a slasher film?” He waved a hand at himself, sending a spray of orange from his arm onto the floor.

  Splat splat splat…

  Which was when Dani lost it, just lost her ever-loving mind. Laughter burst out of her so hard it was nearly a cackle. She snorted with the hilarity of it, grasped her stomach to try to catch her breath, and finally crouched against the cabinet. Her cheeks hurt and her eyes were watering. She kept trying to remind him of his last words before the explosion, but every time she thought of him saying he was going to make the can his little bitch, she started laughing harder again and couldn’t speak.

  Sean reached for the paper towels and rolled his eyes. “Ha ha, D. Kick a man when he’s down, why don’t you?”

  She pointed and shook her head. “You…you said….” Unable to control herself, she slumped all the way onto the floor, gasping for breath between waves of hilarity. “…l’il bitch…”