Sneak Attack

by Cari Quinn

  “Fox!” Carly’s frightened shout stopped me dead halfway to the ambulance. I’d intended to tell the EMTs where to find Slater and Olivia, even lead them there if necessary. After I’d made sure Mia was okay.

  Then I saw the drape of the dark braid on the stretcher being carted out of the building, and everything inside me shut down. Every vital process screeched to a halt. Breathing first. Vision next, until it narrowed to a pinprick hole that only contained the stretcher and the white, white sheets. My heart last, stopping so swiftly that I would’ve lost my footing if Carly hadn’t been at my side.

  “What happened?” My mouth was operating independently of my brain, because that part of me had ceased functioning too.

  “She’s hurt, she’s hurt.”

  I couldn’t make sense of what I was hearing.

  The gears started turning again, slowly, painfully.

  Hurt. Alive then. Not dead.

  Not dead.

  “How bad?” I managed.

  “I don’t know. They won’t tell me. Make them tell us.” She turned her tear-tracked face up to mine. “Please.”

  Together we shambled toward the stretcher being loaded into the ambulance like drunks, arms locked. Carly was crying. I still wasn’t fully aware of what was happening, only that my renewed breaths burned on the way out of my mouth.

  “She’s mine,” I said to the nearest EMT when he tried to shoo me away. I bent over the stretcher, relief swelling inside me when I saw Mia’s face. It was almost perfect. Just that solitary cut bisecting the corner of mouth, the bleeding stanched now. Somehow I’d thought I would see her eye swollen and puffy like mine had been after the fight with Giovanni, as if the universe had wanted us to have matching wounds. I didn’t want her to deal with the headaches I still had.

  “Mia, baby. Wake up.”

  She didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

  Then I saw her arm, bandaged against her stomach. From the angle and temporary bandages they’d given her, my guess was it was broken.

  I looked up, enraged, my gaze going to the open mouth of the warehouse where people still spilled out in every direction. Talking, laughing. Inside, Evie was probably whooping it up too. She was the victor.

  Goddamn her. I didn’t care if it wasn’t politically correct to want to harm a woman. She’d harmed mine, and I wanted to kick her ass.

  “Ame,” Carly whispered, crying, brushing her hand over Mia’s unblemished forehead. She just looked like she was sleeping. Calm. Peaceful. “Wake up.”

  “Sir, ma’am, you need to move back. We need to load her into the ambulance and get her to the hospital.”

  “How bad is it? Please tell me,” Carly begged, glancing up at the EMTs. Giovanni was behind her, his hand on her shoulder, but I doubt she even noticed.

  Ignoring them, I ran my fingers over the base of Mia’s throat. Her pulse was strong and steady. She was just sleeping again, like she’d checked out last week. I’d make myself believe that before I allowed myself to think for even one second that she would wake in pain, or afraid. I couldn’t bear it.

  “Damn you, you better wake up. Now. I need you here with me.”

  Lowering my head, I pressed my mouth to hers. Hard. This was no sweet gentle kiss or delicate stroking like Slater had done. We’d fought too long and hard to get to this point. She was coming back to me, this instant.

  There could be no other alternative.

  When it didn’t work, I did it again, knotting my fingers in the end of her braid. She smelled like my Mia, tasted like her too. Still in that position I looked up and saw Kizzy—and oddly, Sutton, from behind her—watching us, just like Carly and Giovanni, who were flanked by a tall, dark woman who resembled Gio. Carly leaned back against him, pressing her fist to her mouth as she cried, and his hand moved rhythmically up and down her arm.

  Someone tugged on mine. “Sir, you need to move back. She needs help.”

  Ignoring him, I bent over Mia and kissed her again, even harder than the last time. “Goddammit, Mia Knox, you wake up. This fucking second.”

  I watched her eyes for any change. Even a flicker of her lashes. Nothing.

  Disappointed, heartsick, I stumbled back as the EMTs rushed in to do their job. Blocking her from my view as they prepared to put her in the ambulance and take her away from me. But not for long.

  Then I heard her voice. Thready and weak, but it was Mia. “Fox.”

  Carly rushed forward, a smile breaking through her tears. “Ame?”

  I elbowed aside the ambulance guys and leaned over the gurney, my hope vanishing when I saw her eyes were still closed. I’d heard her. I knew I had.

  “Fox,” she said again, her pale lips barely moving. Then her lashes lifted for barely a second. “You called me Knox.”

  I had no idea what she was talking about. Less than no idea. Blankly, I stared at Carly, whose gaze was riveted on her sister’s face.

  Not caring if Mia was babbling in Swahili, I bent down and pressed my cheek to hers. “No sleeping on the job. Up and at ‘em, tiger.”

  “You…called me…Knox,” she said again, and then I understood.

  Well, huh. “I didn’t mean to,” I mumbled.

  “I know.” Her lips twitched and weakly, she lifted her good hand to me. I took it and clasped it between both of mine. She was burning up. “Carly?”

  “Right here,” her sister whispered, kissing her forehead. “You’re not allowed to give us a scare like that again.”

  “Sorry. Stupid…guillotine.” Her throat worked. “Need. More. Jiu-Jitsu. Gotta. Practice.”

  “Think you can hold off on the practices for a while, fighter girl.”

  Her eyelashes flickered again as she angled her head toward me. “She…won anyway.”

  Then her hand went limp in mine.

  Would that mean Lorenzo and his guys would leave her and Carly alone? She’d lost, which was what they wanted. I never would’ve wanted her to take a drop—or worse, get hurt—but maybe this would buy her some room. Especially if Olivia was out of the picture. I couldn’t imagine Olivia would wake up and want more of what she’d gotten tonight. Even a crazy person had to have the occasional moment of lucidity. And she had Slater to help her find them.

  Slater, the last person I wanted to think about right now.

  She might have the police on her case too, if Mia and I could gather enough evidence to start a case against her. There wasn’t much proof, and what there was would lead us right back to Lorenzo’s door. But none of that was for tonight.

  Somehow I found it in me to smile at the nearest EMT. “My girl’s going to be fine.”

  “Yes, she is. Her vitals are good, but she has a concussion. And a broken arm.”

  I grimaced. I’d had a couple of both of those. No fun. But I’d be there to help her get better, every step of the way.

  Every day for the rest of her life.

  “You know, MMA fighting is illegal in the state of New York,” the EMT added.

  I glanced up and caught Giovanni’s eye. He had his arm around Carly, which was the least of my worries at the moment.

  “Yeah.” Sighing, I shook my head. “Damn shame what kids today do for kicks.”

  21

  Mia

  one month after the fight

  “So now that you’ve had a while to adjust, how you feel about living with your boyfriend?”

  I bit my lip to smother my smile as I slid a glance at Tray, who was seated beside me on Dr. Phelps’ oh-so-comfy couch. “Well, I appreciate the easy access to sex.”

  His eyebrow winged up, and I shrugged. He hadn’t been there the first time, so he wasn’t in on the punchline.

  “You’re using humor to deflect, Mia. Or does Tray’s presence make you uncomfortable? Would you like me to ask him to leave for this portion of the session?” She shot an apologetic glance at Tray. “I have to think about what’s best for my patient. You understand.”

  His fingers loosely curled around mine on the cushion between us.
“Of course.”

  “No, he’s fine. I don’t have any secrets from him.”

  Dr. Phelps looked as surprised as Tray did. Though that was a better look for him than the slightly pea green cast he’d been sporting since we’d taken a seat. This was my third week of two sessions. He’d also been to the last session, but only for half. That was our way of easing him in.

  Carly had been to one session so far as well. Baby steps.

  I’d been on antidepressants for a week. So far so good. My mood didn’t seem appreciably better yet, and I still lived in an almost constant state of panic over Carly’s whereabouts, but I was trying to be patient.

  At least I hadn’t had any more mental checkouts recently. That was a plus in my book.

  “I suppose if I ask if you continue to use rough sex as a substitute for fighting, you’ll drag out your original answer as well.”

  Wow, was Dr. Phelps actually smiling at me? Fondly?

  I glanced at Tray. Smirking, he averted his gaze. He was leaving this one all for me.

  Wuss.

  “No, I won’t. Because I’m going to start fighting again.” I sucked in a breath and let it out again. “Tray’s okay with it.”

  “I think okay is a bit of an overstatement, since she just got out of the hospital a few weeks ago. But I’m dealing.”

  He’d also deal when I set up a rematch fight with one Ms. Evelyn Pierce. That wasn’t a maybe. That was a when.

  “I’m better off mentally when I’m fighting.” I lifted a shoulder and winced at the pull in my arm. I was always forgetting it was broken, which was kind of ridiculous considering the pain it still caused me. “I need that outlet, otherwise my mind just spins.”

  “Perhaps. Perhaps you could also try other, safer outlets.”

  “Oh, don’t worry. We still have rough sex too.”

  Tray coughed into his fist.

  “I won’t be fighting for a while obviously,” I added, pointing at the cast in my lap. “So if the medication helps, maybe I’ll change my mind by the time I’m in fighting shape again.”

  I highly doubted it, but I was trying to be more open-minded.

  The conversation went to other usual topics. A bit about the Olivia situation—which wasn’t much of one, because I had no evidence except a bunch of phone calls and a few texts—and what it meant for our relationship with Slater. I didn’t have much to say about it. Tray had nothing.

  Slater wasn’t responding to us. Period.

  It hadn’t been that long since everything had exploded at the fight, so I was trying to convince Tray to give his best friend time to come to terms with everything. He wasn’t nearly as patient as I was. His solution was to break down Slater’s door and force him to talk to us, and then knock some sense into Slater for falling for a psychopath. His phrase not mine.

  Probably not the best approach.

  And I wasn’t even going to get started about his desire to see Olivia in jail. I didn’t know if that would ever happen. She wasn’t bothering me anymore. That didn’t mean I wanted to forget the whole thing, but I’d adopted a wait-and-see approach.

  Tray answered a few questions about his parents, and his mom in particular. She was still living with us, but she’d found an apartment to go see next week. She hadn’t mentioned filing for divorce or anything that permanent, but we were trying to take it day by day.

  That was pretty much our life motto at the moment.

  “Mia’s recent change in financial status has to have impacted your lifestyle.” Dr. Phelps consulted her notepad. “I imagine it’s been a big transition.”

  The biggest transition I’d been dealing with lately was not sticking my big nose in Carly’s love life. She’d gone out with the Salad Hut dude again, and I hadn’t said a word. I also resisted try to put a lock on her jeans when Giovanni came around, something he was doing with distressing regularity now that Tray and Slater were on the outs.

  I still didn’t like the guy, but nothing was going on with him and Carly that I could tell. And everything was all quiet on the Lorenzo front.

  For now.

  Tray locked his hands behind his head. “Not really, because Mia won’t touch the money.”

  I frowned. “That’s not exactly true.” Mostly true.

  Aunt Patty hadn’t exactly enjoyed being confronted about the settlement money, but she’d handed the bulk of it over with surprisingly little argument. She hadn’t wanted me to pursue legal action, though that had never been my intention. She’d already spent some of the cash, and I’d told her to keep a large chunk. The rest she’d given up fairly willingly, saying the Lord would provide.

  Why that hadn’t occurred to her when she’d hoarded all the money that wasn’t rightfully hers in the first place, I didn’t know.

  “Do you feel undeserving of good fortune, Mia?”

  I rolled my eyes. I couldn’t help it. “What do you think?”

  Tray cleared his throat and I tried again. He was trying in spite of his many reservations when it came to therapy, so I had to also. Even when it was hard.

  Especially when it was hard.

  “Yes. I feel undeserving. Good things make me wonder when I’ll lose them.”

  “Good things like your relationship with Trayherne, for example.”

  “Well, he’s not exactly ugly.”

  His fingers tightened on mine. “Aww, honey. So sweet.”

  I couldn’t hide my grin. “But yeah. He’s one of them. The money is another. But I’m going to use it. It’s going toward Carly’s education. She’s in culinary school,” I reminded my therapist, unable to hide my pride.

  “That’s wonderful, and a positive use for money that came from a difficult situation. But you’ll still have some leftover. The amount was sizeable, wasn’t it?”

  I snorted. “Uh, yeah. You could say that.”

  “She wants a treehouse,” Tray offered, and I narrowed my eyes. “She’s going to make me build her one when we buy a house.”

  “Yeah, like you can build. Shut up.”

  Dr. Phelps smiled. “Is that something you plan to do with the money? Buy a house?”

  “Eventually, maybe. I’m happy where we are.” I bit my lip. I didn’t want to assume. “Are you happy where we are?” I asked quietly.

  “Yeah. Just need that big screen TV we talked about, and maybe a cardboard cutout of Megan Fox, and the place is perfect.” He squeezed my fingers to let me know he was kidding.

  As if I didn’t know that. He’d much rather have a cardboard cutout of Scarlett Johansson.

  “I actually had another idea for some of the money.” I searched Tray’s face for a reaction. He only waited.

  “And what would that be?” Dr. Phelps asked pleasantly.

  Here went everything.

  “I want to open a kind of shelter for the lost. For missing and endangered kids and adults who have nowhere else to go. A safe space, where there’s no judgment and you don’t have to share more than you want to. There will be counselors on staff, and people who understand, as much as anyone can.” I exhaled. “Like me.”

  No one spoke.

  “Well?” I demanded when I couldn’t take one more second of silence.

  “I think that you’re the most incredible person I’ve ever met,” Tray murmured.

  Then he slid across the couch and kissed me. Full on the mouth, with tongue. Right in front of Dr. Phelps.

  Of course, I kissed him back.

  My happily ever after started right fucking now.

  Read on for an excerpt from ON THE ROPES, the next Tapped Out novel featuring Carly and Giovanni, releasing July 1st, 2015 and available for preorder now!

  Up Next

  Carly and Giovanni’s story, ON THE ROPES, book 3 in the Tapped Out series, will be available July 1, 2015 and is up for preorder now. Read on for an excerpt after the blurb!

  * * *

  He’s willing to die for vengeance, until she gives him a reason to live…

  The fighter…
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  Giovanni Costas is the newest hotshot fighter in New York City’s underground MMA scene. From the outside, he’s on top of the world. Winning all his matches, getting all the women he could ever want. The truth isn’t nearly so bright. Isolated and alone, far from his family in Vegas, he’s struggling with inner demons that threaten to swallow him whole.

  The stakes…

  The more Giovanni fights, the closer he gets to the people who ripped away the most precious thing in his life. Eradicating them is his only focus…until he meets his reason for turning his back on the seedy world that has consumed him for two years.

  The biggest battle he’s ever faced…

  Carly Anderson is living a double life. A culinary student by day and a dancer by dark, Carly spends her nights in a cage of her own choosing. Flirting with danger is the only thing that dulls the pain from her past. When she catches the eye of the wrong men, it’ll take the right one to save her. If Giovanni doesn’t break her—and himself—in the process…

  On The Ropes

  Carly

  I used to feel invisible. I was an ordinary girl with a sister with a not-so-ordinary background, and because of that, I’ve always lived in her shadow. I didn’t want her to worry about me, and I didn’t want to cause any trouble. But even the good girl eventually goes bad.

  At least this one did.

  The first time I got drunk I tasted the freedom I hadn’t realized I’d been missing. After awhile, you become so numb that it becomes easier to pretend it doesn’t hurt to deny who you are, down deep under the lies. You get used to breaking off pieces of yourself and tucking them away where they won’t cause any pain to someone else, someone you love more than life. Someone who would sacrifice anything to keep you safe. Claiming those real, true slices of yourself—even in secret—feels like a betrayal.