Fighting Fate (Fighting #7)

by JB Salsbury

  “She can’t be dead.” The girl pleads with police. “Oh, God, please…”

  The girl’s pain reaches through my chest and squeezes my heart. My throat grows tight. The backs of EMTs shuffle out the door carrying a stretcher.

  “Mommy!”

  I ignore the girl as best I can and trudge on. “It seems, um…they’re—”

  “No!” The girl throws her body on the stretcher and it’s then I notice the woman on it is covered in a white sheet. Completely covered. Even her face.

  Oh God. She’s dead.

  Trevor’s voice growls in my ear. “Dammit, she’s dead. This might not be related to The Shadow, but keep the camera on the EMTs. This makes for great TV.”

  My stomach churns with unease.

  “Talk! Shyann!”

  I nod. “It seems, tragedy has taken a turn…um…for the…”

  The young girl launches herself at the body again. The police hold her back while she kicks and screams for her mother.

  My breath catches as I see myself mourning the loss of my mother when I needed her the most. Losing control of my body, kicking and wanting to inflict the kind of pain I was feeling. The heart-pumping panic, sudden coldness that blankets overheated skin causing uncontrollable shivers. And the terror, all of it shoots through me now like it did when I’d lost my momma.

  “Shyann! Get up there, talk to her!” The levity in Trevor’s voice ignites my blood, replacing my frigid panic. “This is fucking gold.”

  Leaf moves to get a better view and jerks his wide eyes for me get into the shot. I turn back studying the girl, remembering the confusion, the heartbreak, the all-consuming unfairness.

  “Please don’t die…” Her anger turns to sobs of devastation so palpable they shake my foundation.

  I take a wobbly step forward.

  “I swear to God, Shyann, if you don’t get in there and grab this story…this is our ticket. You hear me, dammit? Get your ass in there!”

  I open my mouth to speak, Trevor’s demand in my ear pushing my lips to move, but there are no words.

  I can’t.

  Everything becomes irrelevant. My stupid fucking clothes, dreams of becoming an anchor for a national broadcast, all if it pales in the light of this girl’s recognizable anguish. Her cries rip through my unaffected façade and reach into my soul. It slices through vital organs and diving into the recesses where I’ve locked away my hate. Anger. Cruelty that a child would have to suffer through the loss of the single person in this world that ever understood her.

  Trevor growls in my ear. “Shya—”

  “I can’t.” The words come out with the force brought on by years of suppression.

  “You can’t? We’re live! Talk!”

  Leaf’s free hand rolls frantically through the air, his camera lens zeroing in like a weapon ready to cause mass destruction.

  My head moves on my shoulders, conveying the one word that won’t leave my lips. No.

  “Fuck it, she’s done!” Trevor’s voice shakes with fury. “Leaf, get in there now!”

  Leaf moves before Trevor’s even done talking and shoves the camera lens into the girl’s face.

  “No! Leave her alone.” I stumble over loose rocks, but it’s not enough to stop me. “Cut the feed!”

  “Back off, Shyann! You’re—”

  I tear my earpiece out and throw my body between the girls and the camera lens. Leaf gasps, “What the fu—”

  “Leave her alone!” I grab the camera and slam it into Leaf’s face so hard it sends him to his ass.

  The firm clunk of the news camera rings in my ears and blood spills from just under Leaf’s eyebrow signaling me to a single truth.

  My short career in broadcast news has come to an end.

  ~*~

  Five years fit into a few boxes now packed in the bed of my Ford Ranger. I never thought much about my lack of belongings. Makes sense I guess. If it wasn’t something I could wear or something I was studying I had no use for it. The last five years of my life have consisted of meeting my basic needs—food, sleep, sex—and chasing after my career goals. Anything to keep from being forced back to the town I was raised in.

  I had big plans when I left home. College, work, and get as far away from Payson as I could. Now here I am, a few months past graduation, and I made it ninety-four miles.

  Not impressive.

  I was looking forward to bouncing around from small market to small market, going from one furnished studio apartment to the other, ready to pack up and go when a job opportunity called. If it called. Which after last week’s incident it probably never will.

  “You sure you’re okay to drive home alone?” Trevor’s leaning against my truck, a coffee in one hand and wearing his stupid fucking aviator glasses that make him look nothing like Maverick. His styled dirty blond hair doesn’t budge in the wind and his pale skin screams of a man who spends most of his days inside and behind a desk.

  Maybe it’s growing up in a small town, or the closest men in my life being the build-it-yourself, hunt, and drink beer type, but his pleated golf shorts and lavender collared shirt tucked in like a good little preppy doesn’t make me weak in the knees. He’s handsome, gets plenty attention from women, but all he’s ever been for me is comfortable. He doesn’t bring out my inner sex-goddess, nor does he completely repulse me.

  “You sure you care?” I slam shut the tailgate a little harder than I need to.

  He sighs. Loud. “Honey…”

  I cringe inwardly at that ridiculous pet name.

  “I do care, but you knew this would happen.”

  Not even an ounce of sympathy, not that he’d understand why I did what I did. Trevor’s one of those robotic guys, prides himself in having zero emotions and preaches the importance of keeping all relationships, business or otherwise, feelings free. It’s one of the things I dig about him, I mean, until now.

  “This was your chance, Shyann. You blew it.” He laughs, but it’s more of a shocked, I-can’t-believe-how-stupid-you-are chuckle. “You gave Leaf an orbital fracture. You fucked this up for all of us.”

  “Thanks for the recap, Trevor.” I split my ponytail and pull it tight.

  “You can’t expect to keep your job after that. You know better.”

  “Just like a bad little puppy, you’re gonna rub my nose in it, I appreciate that.” As if I don’t already feel like shit.

  Truth is, I’ve always had a horrible temper. I’ve managed to keep it under control, being away from my childhood home, and the small town I grew up it, made it easy. I distanced myself from everything that made me feel, until the newscast heard ’round the world. For me, there was no holding back.

  He hooks me by the waist and pulls me into a one-arm hug, pressing our hips together. “Aw, don’t leave mad.” He kisses me and the smell of coffee on his breath mixed with his overly sweet cologne turns my stomach. “I wish you didn’t have to go back to that hick town.”

  “It’s not a hick t-town, it’s a quaint m-mountain community.”

  His eyes narrow. “You’re stuttering. You always stutter when you lie.”

  “Whatever.” I press my hand against his chest to get some distance and a small fire burns in my gut. “Besides, it’s only temporary until I figure out what my next move is.”

  Trevor’s the one who got me the job at FBS. Job is a bit of an exaggeration seeing as I only made enough actual money to pay for the necessities. Now I’ve got sixty-eight dollars in my account and my rent was past due until Trevor paid the six-hundred dollars so I could get out of my lease. I’d feel bad for taking his money, but his family set up a trust fund for their only child.

  He releases me and opens the truck door. “Drive safely and call me when you get there.” There’s a tiny hint of the man I remember meeting in my COM classes back when we had mutual respect for each other and our career goals. “Let me know what you decide.”

  “Will do.” I slide into the drivers seat and strap on my seatbelt. “And uh…I’ll
send you a check as soon as I can get some money.”

  He shuts the door and leans down to poke his head through the open window. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give you somewhere to stay while you figure all this out, it’s just—”

  “Are we really doing this? Don’t act like you give a flying fuck where I end up, Trevor.”

  Disapproval twists his mouth. “That mouth’ll keep getting you into trouble if you’re not careful, honey.”

  I fight the urge to shove my finger down my throat. “I like my mouth, it’s honest.”

  His lips brush across my cheekbone. “Get your shit together then bring your dirty mouth back to me. I’ll see if there’s any job openings in town, maybe the coffee shop’s hiring.” There’s a hint of humor in his voice.

  “You’re an asshole.” However I ended up naked with him is a mystery, I mean, if lots and lots of tequila can be considered a mystery. After that it just seemed like an easy way to scratch an itch.

  “You love me.”

  I stare at him for a few seconds, realizing that I don’t love him. I mean, I care about him as much as person who cares about nothing can, but that’s the extent. We established the ground rules from the beginning—no attachments, our careers come first, don’t get in each other’s way.

  “I’ll be in touch.” I avoid his eyes and step on the gas, forcing him to step back from the truck. I don’t even look in the rearview mirror as I pull away.

  I hit the road grateful for the one thing my Dad gave me besides my blue eyes that earned me my middle name, my truck. It’s small, only two seats, but it has four-wheel-drive and even though it’s the color of baby shit—the dealership calls it champagne—it’s been the most reliable thing in my life.

  The highway stretches out before me, and talk radio blares static through my speakers. I punch off the obnoxious noise and force myself to sit in my own silence.

  Stupid, stupid, Shyann.

  Five years of college for what? All I ever wanted was to be on television. I know I was destined for it. My mom knew. Now there’s not a broadcast company in this country that will touch me. And I’m broke.

  I know better than to let my personal feelings interfere with my work. As much as I regret what I did to end my short career, I can’t say I’d do anything differently. There’s no way I could exploit that young girls suffering.

  The girl’s mother had a heart defect and the severe beating put too much stress on her heart and killed her. Not a painless death, I’m sure, but at least it was quick.

  Unlike momma’s.

  No, she had to suffer for over two years, her body giving up at an agonizing pace, leaving her mind for last so she’d be completely aware of how she was dying. The memories slice through my minds eye, my dad holding her limp body, roaring his anger at God.

  It was sitting in that cold church, watching every person in our town filter past me with words they hoped would ease my pain that I decided I’d get out of Payson the second I graduated and never go back. I was angry, starving for a fight. Desperate to have my Dad back rather than the empty man with the dead eyes who she left us with. He hated that I was leaving, never understood my need to run, to do all the things I promised my Momma I’d do. We fought. Hard. Unforgivable words were exchanged, and we haven’t managed to patch our relationship since.

  Now I’m crawling back to beg for mercy, the prodigal child, broke, jobless, and with debt hanging off me like dead weight. If there’s anything I know, Nash Jennings will never let me live this down.

  The tiny town of Payson, Arizona isn’t all that different from Flagstaff, but it’s about a fourth of the size. My Dad was raised there as a boy giving the Jennings name deep roots that have nourished the small town.

  He might be a proud man, but I’m just as proud. I’ll need time to save money, figure out my options, and the second I do I’m out of there. Yeah, this is my best option.

  I’m meant for big things. This is simply a speed bump.

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  About the Author

  JB Salsbury, New York Times Best Selling author of the Fighting series, lives in Phoenix, Arizona, with her husband and two kids. She spends the majority of her day lost in a world of battling alphas, budding romance, and impossible obstacles as stories claw away at her subconscious, begging to be released to the page.

  Her love of good storytelling led her to earn a degree in Media Communications. With her journalistic background, writing has always been at the forefront, and her love of romance prompted her to write her first novel.

  Since 2013 she has published six bestselling novels in The Fighting Series and won a RONE Award.

  For more information on the series or just to say hello, visit JB on her website, Facebook, or Goodreads page.

  http://www.jbsalsbury.com/

  https://www.facebook.com/JBSalsburybooks

  http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6888697.Jamie_Salsbury