Fight For Me

by Hayden Braeburn

  “And now he's taking it out on you and Simmons?” He needed to understand, to put the pieces together, but he was having a hard time wrapping his head around this. They weren't able to make charges stick two years ago, so now the law side of it had to be punished? Why not blow up wherever Irving and his people were, save the girls they had, anything? Why decide Cassie had to be tortured?

  “I guess so.” She slumped against the pillows. “I could be wrong, what if it's not him?”

  “It's him, darlin'. I saw him.”

  “Dammit.”

  He had held himself back since they'd arrived at the hospital, but couldn't do it any longer. He moved to the bed, picking her up gingerly to allow him room to spoon her against himself, making sure to place her on her good side. He kissed her cheek, her ear, her neck. “I love you, Cassie.”

  She snuggled against him. “I know. I love you, too.”

  How he loved to hear those words. Despite their current situation, his cock stirred behind his jeans, the proximity of Cassie short circuiting his brain. He held his hips away from the perfect curve of her ass in her open-backed gown. She was hurt, and they were in danger. Now was not the time for lovemaking.

  ~*~

  Cassidy sank into the muscled arms cradling her. Dylan had found her, saved her, and loved her. She knew he wanted to go after Archer himself, but he'd promised not to leave her, and he hadn't. She felt him pull his pelvis away from her, afraid to let her feel what she knew was a massive erection, and she bit back a smile. She wished she were fit enough to lose herself in him, feel him over her, inside her, surrounding her, and she suppressed a shudder. If it weren't for her bruised ribs, they could take comfort in each other in a more visceral way than spooning on a narrow hospital bed.

  She shifted, her ass fitting against his cock, and he groaned. “You don't know how much I want you,” he rasped in her ear.

  She needed him. Right then. Fuck Steve Archer, propriety, pain, danger, or rules. “Gently.”

  “I was afraid I'd lost you, afraid you were dead,” he whispered. “I don't know if I can be gentle.”

  “You can because I need you to be,” she assured. Moments later she felt him unbutton and unzip before the glorious width of him entered her slowly. She'd needed Dylan in this elemental way, no matter the pain, no matter the consequences. She reveled in the feel of him, plastered to his front as she was, his holster bumping into her with every thrust, his murmured words of love coupled with his rough breathing as he held himself in check sending her over the edge. She was thankful for the painkillers, the knowledge that her heavy pants and sighs would've hurt without them, but she didn't care. This was the man she was made to love, the one created just for her, and she needed him. He lengthened his strokes, his hand finding its way around to tease her, and she shattered, her clenching muscles tearing a growl from his throat when he spilled inside her.

  It wasn't long afterward a nurse came to check on her, the look on her round face anything but pleased. “She's hurt!”

  Cassidy didn't allow Dylan to answer, instead affecting her best “grill the witness” voice, “He's my fiancé, and he was comforting me.” That seemed to calm the nurse slightly, but she noticed the stiffening of Dylan's long body behind her with the declaration. She had admitted she loved him, but she hadn't accepted his proposal, and he hadn't asked again.

  “Sex is not comforting,” the nurse shot back, her tone as hard as Cassidy's had been. Her face was pinched when she shifted her focus to Dylan. “Shoo.”

  “I ain't goin' anywhere,” he vowed, and she stifled a laugh. If this nurse thought she could tell her Ranger what to do, she was in for a surprise.

  Undeterred, the the older woman pressed, “You're getting out of this bed, lover-boy. I just hope you're decent.”

  He groaned, but moved, and she hated the loss of his heat behind her. “You do what you must, but I am not lettin' her out of my sight. Not ever again.”

  The nurse gave him a long, withering look. “Fine.” She opened her mouth to say something else, but the words were swept away by the incredible rumbling of an explosion.

  Cassidy screamed as Dylan covered her with his body, protecting her from the falling ceiling and tipping IV pole. When the debris stopped falling, she rasped, “He's here.”

  “He's not gettin' away this time,” Dylan promised. “Not again.”

  She believed him, but she didn't like what he was saying. What if Archer got the best of him? What if this wasn't the only bomb? She held back tears. “Come back to me.”

  “Always.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Dylan didn't want to leave Cassie, but this had to end now. He was on his own, sure someone had called 911 after the explosion, but not banking on help from the Sheridan police. Giving into the gut feeling that had been gnawing at him all afternoon, he raced down the narrow corridor with no regard to the screaming people displaced by the bomb and scared by him running past them with a firearm. He didn't have any jurisdiction, he wasn't a cop, but he didn't care.

  He'd left Cassie after insuring she and the judgmental nurse were okay, unwilling to kill a man in her presence, the tingling in his spine telling him the tango he was after was here. He turned a corner and caught a glimpse of what he thought to be Archer running out a back door, his back hunched, pistol in hand.

  “It's over, Archer,” he yelled, both to insure he'd found his target and because he needed this nightmare to end.

  “It'll never be over,” Archer countered, his dark eyes glinting in the half-light of the smoky hall. He aimed his pistol at the center of Dylan's chest. “Irving was here. Now he's dead.”

  “Good riddance,” he said, his mind forming plan and counterplan as he squared off against the detective. They were well matched, Archer only a couple inches taller, but Dylan knew he was better trained, with more at stake. He stared the other man down, waiting for him to show an exploitable weakness, and instead turned into a comic book hero, asking, “Why? Why punish Cassie, Simmons? They didn't traffic anyone, they didn't kill anyone—”

  “Oh, but they did,” Archer cut in. “If they'd done their jobs, Natalie would still be alive.”

  Natalie? Why was he learning things now with a nine millimeter aimed at him the cops hadn't uncovered? He didn't say anything, silently coaxing the other man to go on, watching him all the while.

  “She was my niece. I bought her and her Momma a house, took care of them, and then Irving took them both. I became a cop to avenge them, and look what that got me.” His gun hand shook as he told the story in true comic book villain fashion, and Dylan swallowed a bit of panic. He really didn't want to be shot again. Twice was enough, thank you.

  He couldn't help himself, he had to ask, “But the prosecutors, Archer?”

  “They got Rossi, but it didn't do a damn bit of good. They didn't even try to get Irving, the bastard. He was the mastermind, he was the one directing everything. Nicholas Rossi got involved with Irving, not the other way around. The prosecution had it all backwards, and no one would listen to me!” His voice escalated as he explained, the final words a deafening shout, and Dylan watched the other man's fingers tighten around the pistol as his hands violently shook and readied his body to move. “And now you!” Archer continued to yell, “Coming in here all heroic, jumping in front of bullets and shit. Who do you think you are?”

  “Dylan, get down!” he heard Cassie scream from his right before she tackled him, sliding them both across the floor just before a ceiling beam came crashing down where he'd stood.

  “How dare you leave me?” she whispered roughly.

  He'd thought he'd left her to protect her, and now she'd just saved his life, putting herself right in Archer's path. “Goddammit! I wanted you safe, and now—”

  “And now what? Archer ran.”

  Fuck. He should've taken the shot when he had it, instead of standing there talking. A bit of drywall exploded six inches above Cassie's head and he swore again. Archer had run off, but he h
adn't gone far, and now he was shooting at Cassidy. Enough was fucking enough.

  ~*~

  Cassidy couldn't see from behind the bulk of Dylan's body, but she knew he had flipped back into warrior mode. That shot from Archer had been meant for her, and she knew Dylan wasn't going to let him get away with it. As much as she wanted the man prosecuted, held accountable for his crimes, she had no doubts he wouldn't make it to trial, and surprisingly, she was okay with that. Another bullet burrowed into a wall, and Dylan moved along the floor, bracing himself to take an answering shot. Her ears rang and her body vibrated with his as he shot twice more, then silence.

  “Dylan?” Oh, God, don't let him be hurt. “Did you get him?”

  “Did I get him? What kind of faith is that?” he quipped, and she knew everything would be all right.

  She'd always had faith, but she'd needed to ask just the same. “I never doubted you,” she promised, the weight of the situation hitting her. Dylan had just shot Steve Archer in her defense. “Now, we wait.”

  He shook his head slightly. “Sheridan won't take too kindly to my shootin' people in a hospital.” He shuddered. “You almost died twice today, Cassie. Maybe Archer was right sendin' you those headlines. Maybe I can't protect the people I love.”

  She swallowed. So much for not admitting to her idiot plan. “It was my fault. This whole thing was my fault.”

  “I know Archer tried to pin blame—”

  “No,” she cut him off. “Today was my own fault because I did something utterly stupid.”

  He rolled to face her completely, his eyes narrowed. “Just what the hell are you talkin' about?”

  “This morning. The bathroom.” She paused, took in a painful breath. She didn't want to go on, but she'd started it herself. “I went in there planning on running on my own.”

  His face hardened to an expression she'd never seen directed at her and her heart dropped. “You what?”

  “I wanted to protect you. If something had happened to you, I'd have fallen to pieces. I changed my mind, though.” She wiped the tears running down her cheeks. “Before he stopped me.”

  “You'd've fallen apart?” he asked very quietly. “Just what do you think happened to me? I couldn't find you for hours after walkin' into a bathroom covered in blood. My God, you could've so easily been dead. How do you think I felt combin' a property I wasn't even sure you were on, prayin' to God you were alive?”

  She knew he would have been going crazy, just as she knew he would find her. “I knew you'd rescue me.” She shook with sobs, the pain in her ribs staggering. “I love you.”

  “I just killed a man because he's been gunnin' for you for weeks, because he tried to kill you on multiple occasions, and you tell me you wanted to protect me, so you delivered yourself on a silver platter?”

  “I didn't know, Dylan. I didn't.”

  “But you knew the bathroom was the only place I'd let you go alone, and you planned on leavin' me.”

  “I changed my mind.” She sounded desperate to her own ears, and hoped he could hear her distress. They could finally live without worrying, without looking over their shoulders, and now he was angry with her. Perhaps justifiably, but she couldn't lose him. Not now.

  “Eventually.” He stood, his eyes hard and his expression grim as he looked at her like she was just another woman, not the one he'd given his love. “You knew I'd die for you, kill for you, fight for you to the ends of the earth, but you ran away.”

  Unable to come up with anything to say, she swiped at the river of tears and snotty nose all the crying had given her. “I love you.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked. “I wanted to wrap you in cotton and hide you away, but you wouldn't let me. I wanted to protect you from everythin', but I had to let you fight.” He pursed his lips. “You didn't trust me.”

  She grabbed his hand. “I did. I do.” Her heart was thudding in her chest, even as it was breaking. “I always will.”

  Pain flashed behind his incredible eyes as he studied her, and she felt new tears begin to flow. “I'm gettin' you back to Aylesford Memorial after we deal with the cops, and then I'm goin' home.”

  Oh God. He was leaving her. “No!” tore from her throat before she asked, “Alone?”

  “I don't need a hospital, Cassidy.” Her heart dropped with his use of her full name. “You do.”

  She couldn't find words, so she stayed quiet, the salty tears rolling down her face, burning her cracked lips. Archer may not have killed her, but she was destroyed just the same, and it was her own fault.

  ~*~

  “Just fucking talk to the woman,” Chris plead from Dylan's couch. His friend had been camped out, trying to cheer him up for days, but there was nothing that would make him feel better. He missed Cassie, but he wasn't ready to show up on her doorstep.

  “You said she's stayin' with Caleb?”

  “Yeah, and her parents are staying with Mason and Kat.” He chuckled. “Good thing Mason's house is big. Can you imagine coming home from your honeymoon to having your parents living with you?”

  Mason's parents were Cassie's parents, and they were good people. He couldn't stand it, he had to ask, “How is she?”

  Chris rolled his eyes. “You love her. She loves you. So why are you here, and she's there?”

  That question gnawed at him on a daily basis. “She didn't trust me and put herself in danger.”

  “And that decision was a bad one, I get that. But didn't she tell you she'd changed her mind before Archer grabbed her?”

  She had, but he hadn't cared at the time. “She was tryin' to protect me.”

  “Why is that such a bad thing? Why is it wrong to want to keep the one you love away from danger?”

  “Because she practically handed herself over to him.”

  Chris stood then, crossed the room to get in Dylan's face. “You love her. You're miserable without her. So, she loves you so much she put herself in danger. So, she did something stupid because of that. Everyone is safe now.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I can't believe I'm saying this, but go to her. Marry her.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Does it have to be difficult? Do you think she'll slam the door in your face?”

  She might. And there was the small detail of her brothers to deal with as well. “You don't happen to know where she is right now, do you?”

  The detective smiled. “Of course I do.”

  ~*~

  “How goes the house hunt?” J.D. asked as he stepped into Cassidy's office.

  She hadn't been motivated to buy anything, even though her insurance money had come through. Nowhere she looked was really where she wanted to be, but Dylan's home in the woods wasn't for sale, and he certainly wasn't asking her to move back in. “Okay, I guess.”

  “That good, eh?”

  “Something like that.” She closed her eyes against the pain. “It's been two weeks. I should decide on something soon.”

  J.D. tilted his head, a smile tipping his lips. “Caleb getting tired of you?”

  She tossed up her hands. “Who would know? He's never home. If his place weren't so beige, I might feel at home.”

  “Beige? What's wrong with beige?”

  Men. “It was obviously painted in neutral tones to sell, and he's never changed a thing.”

  “Maybe he likes it.”

  “Uh-huh. Everyone loves multiple shades of tan.” She focused on her brother's one shortcoming, fully aware she was redirecting from her own glaring issues. “He's lived there for nearly four years, and he hasn't picked up a paintbrush.”

  “Or a phone to hire a designer. I was happy with Michelle Guthrie's work.” He gave her an exaggerated wink. “The ladies never complain.”

  She laughed in spite of herself. “God, J.D., why do you think you're funny?”

  “Cheered you up, didn't it?” he asked, flashing her his lady-killer grin before sailing out the door.

  She could always count on J.D. for a laugh, an idea, an insight,
anything really. Why couldn't she have fallen in love with him instead of a huge lumberjack of a man who felt betrayed when she'd tried to protect him from a madman? She pinched the bridge of her nose, blew out a long breath. It was over. She'd fallen hard and fast against her better judgment, and now she was a mess. For the third time today she blinked back tears. She wanted to see Dylan, talk to him, beg him to change his mind. She put her head down on her desk. She might love him, but she would not beg. Tears trickled from the corner of her eyes. She knew she had to suck it up and move on, but she didn't know how.

  She ignored her work and everything else on her desk for a while, leaving her forehead against the cool wood until she heard heavy footfalls outside her door. Her heart leaped in her chest as she listened before she shoved the thought away. Dylan wouldn't be here, not at nine on a Friday night. Who was she kidding? He would never be here. He'd written her off, walked away after saving her life God knew how many times. The footsteps stopped at her door, and she refused to lift her head, sure it had to be security shooing her out, instead pretending it was Dylan here to make amends. If she kept her eyes closed, she could always pretend.

  “I know I should go,” she said, her voice muffled by her desk. “I'll go home soon, I promise.”

  “I hope so,” came the quiet reply and her heart stopped. “I miss you, Cassie.”

  She lifted her head slowly, afraid she was dreaming, hallucinating, wishing. When she finally opened her eyes, Dylan was standing before her, an expectant look on his incredible face. “You don't have any idea how much I miss you,” she croaked through the tears that had started flowing as soon as she'd heard his voice.

  He pushed her chair away from the desk, dropping to his knees at her feet. “I need you, Cassie. Come home.”

  “I wasn't the one who left. Not really. Not ever. Thinking about doing something and doing it are different.”

  He swept away her tears with his thumbs, his big hands cradling her face. “I was wrong, darlin'. I was angry with you for puttin' yourself in danger, the terror of almost losin' you fresh in my mind.” He kissed her softly. “I told you that I would die for you, kill for you, fight for you, and I would, I did, and I have.” He paused. “You almost died because you wanted to protect me when Archer took you, and again when the ceilin' was cavin' in.”