Fight For You

by Evans, J. C.

  “What?” I ask when she’s still giggling a minute later. “What did I say?”

  “Nothing,” she says, smile still in place. “I was just thinking it would be nice to catch a few waves. Unwind a little after all the crazy back there.”

  “Great minds think alike.” I run my hand up and down her thigh, loving the way the thin fabric makes it feel like I’m touching her bare skin. I don’t have any intentions of rushing things—I’ll wait as long as it takes for her to feel ready for more than a kiss—but it’s so good to be able to touch her without her shying away. “I think we deserve the afternoon off to celebrate. One down, three to go.”

  Worry creeps back into her expression. “Do you really think we’ll be able to pull the rest of it off without getting caught?”

  “I do, but I like to see you worrying about getting caught.”

  She arches a brow, “And why’s that?”

  “Because it means you’re realizing you’ve got a lot of things to look forward to,” I say, squeezing her leg, not missing the way she shivers in response. “Let’s get out of here. I’ve got a staff meeting tonight, but we’ve got plenty of time to hit the break and get back before dinner.”

  “All right,” she says, sliding back into the driver’s seat. She starts the car and shifts into drive, but before she pulls out, she reaches out and threads her fingers through mine. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  We hold hands all the way back to the cabin and that simple thing is enough to make me feel like a lucky man.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Sam

  “Enjoy when you can,

  and endure when you must.”

  -Goethe

  We reach the beach just after two o’clock when the morning sun worshippers are packing up to head into town and the afternoon surfers are gearing up to hit the bigger waves as the tide comes in.

  The beach is breathtaking—white sand more powdery than what I’m used to, gently swaying palm trees, and a grassy area where locals are grilling and little kids are running around with kites the wind threatens to snap in two. The break is about a hundred yards from the shore, and the ocean floor between the beach and the best surfing is splotchy with coral hidden beneath the waves.

  To our right, the sheltered cove ends in a cliff that soars straight up from the sand. To our left, a series of dark, jagged rocks jut up from the ocean like a rotten set of teeth. They make it look like the shoreline is grinning at the surfers, daring them to glide a little closer and get chomped to bits.

  Danny rents a second board from a guy with dreads hanging out in the shade near the parking lot, and we head down to the ocean to paddle out.

  The warm water, bright sun, salty breeze, and the flash of Danny’s strong arms paddling in my peripheral vision, combine to give me a killer case of déjà vu. For a moment, I feel like the person I used to be. Like the girl who couldn’t wait to spend the weekend bumming around the beach with her boyfriend, eating too much calamari at the Fish House for dinner, and walking home with his hand in hers and the smell of sun-warmed skin and her favorite person swirling all around her, making her feel like any place she went with him would be home.

  But the moment fades, the way moments like that always do.

  No matter how good it feels to be with Danny or how much I’d like to go back to how we used to be, I’m still the new me, a woman who will never find peace until I finish what I’ve started.

  All the way out to the break, I can’t seem to pull my eyes away from the jagged rocks. An inexperienced surfer could get into a lot of trouble at a break like this. It would be so easy to get pulled right instead of left and end up surfing your way into a few broken bones, a concussion, or worse.

  I imagine what it would be like to watch J.D. and Jeremy wipe out on that evil, grinning reef though I know that isn’t the answer to the question of what to do with them. I’m not sold on Danny’s idea—though I hate to waste the day we spent digging that damned pit—but a surfing accident isn’t a good alternative.

  We need something simple. Simple, but nearly deadly, that will make sure they never touch a woman without consent again. I don’t care if Scott knows why he’s being punished—he’s too dumb to learn from his mistakes, anyway—but the rest of them need to know why they’re suffering.

  Danny and I reach the lineup and straddle our boards, bobbing up and down on the waves as we wait our turn to paddle into the break. I twist my hair back into a damp ponytail, pulling my gaze away from the rocks to find Danny watching me.

  The expression on his face makes me feel hot all over and the sun beating down on the glittering water has little to do with it. The love and longing in his eyes make my chest ache with regret for what I put him through, but it also makes my skin tingle. I’m suddenly aware of the wind caressing my damp skin, the taste of salt and Danny’s kiss lingering on my lips, and the fact that I fill out my swimsuit in a different way than before.

  I’ve always been in good shape, but now my body is a monument to willpower and revenge. I’ve only gone up one clothing size, but I’ve gained almost forty pounds of pure muscle and there is very little softness left on my frame. I know some men would find my broader shoulders and tightly muscled arms and legs unattractive, but I can tell Danny appreciates the view.

  He’s looking at me like he’d like to stretch me out on the sand and kiss every inch of my skin and for the first time since last summer, I think I might like that.

  I might like it very much.

  I came to Costa Rica to exorcise the demons that had driven me to run away from everyone I loved. I knew I was capable of hurting the men who had hurt me, but I never thought I’d find my way back to all the things I’d lost. I was certain I was too far gone, too damaged to ever be whole again.

  But maybe I’m not.

  And maybe it’s okay to let myself soften, just a little.

  “What are you thinking?” Danny catches the edge of my board, drawing me closer.

  I lift one shoulder and let it fall. “About you. About this.”

  I rest my hand on his thigh and squeeze, feeling the strength of him beneath his damp board shorts. “You’ve put on some muscle.”

  “Exercise helped curb the urge to punch things.” He smiles ruefully. “Last summer, I tried to put my fist through a brick wall and broke my hand. I figured that had to stop if I was going to be in good enough shape to take care of business, so I started hitting the gym instead.”

  “How is the business?” I ask. “Did you ever open the location in Maui?”

  “No, not yet. But I wasn’t talking about that kind of business.” His gaze drifts over my shoulder. “I wonder if anyone offers surfing lessons out here. That reef looks dangerous. A newbie could get in trouble pretty quick. Especially if they had a push in the wrong direction.”

  I blink. “Were you reading my mind?”

  He shifts his attention back to me with a wink that makes my stomach flip. “Maybe. A little. It could work.”

  I shake my head. “No, it couldn’t. You’d have to make contact with them. That’s the same reason I’m on the fence about you taking them to the pit. Even if they don’t have enough evidence to press criminal charges, their families are rich. If they can describe what you look like, they could hire someone to hunt you down.”

  I brace my hands on my board and shift my legs under the water as a larger wave lifts us up and sets us back down. “Besides, there are too many variables with a surfing accident, too much left up to chance.”

  “No variables with a big ass hole in the jungle filled with vipers,” he says, in a matter of fact voice that makes me laugh, no matter how twisted this conversation is.

  “What?” His eyes crinkle at the edges, making me want to kiss each tiny smile line, just to show how grateful I am that they’re still there. “I’m serious. It doesn’t matter if they see my face. We’ve already got the hole. It would be a shame to waste it. And there’s a creeper who sells snakes liv
ing just down the road from the compound.”

  He dips a hand in the water, using his damp fingers to smooth the hair away from his face. “I say I trick J.D. and Jeremy into a free canopy tour, drop them in the pit with the snakes, and tell them they’re there to pay for the terrible things they did. Then we give them an hour or two to freak out that they’re going to die of snake bite before we call the paramedics.”

  I mull it over again, hands returning to my board as another large wave surges by. “Are you sure there isn’t a way to do it without you making direct contact?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe we can figure something out. If we put our heads together,” he says, attention drifting to my mouth. “And our lips. I could kiss you for another hour or two tonight if that’s something you’d be interested in.”

  I trap my tingling bottom lip between my teeth as I nod.

  “And how about sleeping in the bed with me tonight?” he adds, hurrying to clarify, “Just sleep, that’s all. I’ve just missed waking up with a mouthful of curls in the morning.”

  I can’t help but feel sad that Danny thinks he has to be so careful with me.

  This was what I was afraid of last summer, that our love would never be the same once he knew what had happened. That the men who hurt me would always be in bed with us, making him treat me like I’m made of glass.

  But after a moment, I push the anxious thoughts away. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, I want to enjoy the afternoon and look forward to a night in his arms.

  “Sounds good,” I say, feeling a little shy as I add, “I’ve missed waking you up to tell you to stop snoring.”

  “I’ve missed that, too. I’ve been sleeping way too soundly without someone around to jab me with her bony finger and growl at me to shut up.”

  “I don’t growl,” I protest. “I ask nicely.”

  “You growl. But I like it,” he says, grinning as he lies down on his belly and turns himself around to face the beach in advance of the set rolling in. “I like your feral side.”

  “I’m going to show you my feral side.” I reach out to smack his ass, but he’s already pulling hard, building up speed to catch the next wave.

  He drifts out of reach with a laugh so infectious I can’t help laughing with him. I get into position and ride the next wave in, coasting past Danny just as he falls sideways into the surf, knowing better than to jump off feet first with urchin-studded coral under the water.

  After more than a year without a surfboard beneath my feet or a flight across the water, my first ride is delicious. Fast and free and light-up-my-bones perfect. I don’t ever want it to end. As I start to slow, I inch toward the top of the board and lean forward, hanging on for another hundred feet.

  By the time I lean back and sit down, I’m close enough to see the faces of the people on the beach, close enough to see the jeep full of polo-shirted college boys pulling into the parking lot, parking two spaces down from my own rental car.

  Even before I catch a glimpse of his profile as he slams out of the driver’s side of the jeep, I know the man in the blue shirt is Todd.

  There’s something about the way he holds himself, like he knows nothing in the world can touch him, that is different than the average frat jerk. In his mind, Todd is a god, above the law, above the rest of us, and deserving of the right to do whatever he pleases and get whatever he wants.

  His is the face I see on the devils in my dreams.

  His is the voice I hear in the darkness, promising to come for me again, swearing that I’ll never be sane, never be safe.

  The sweet freedom from a moment before curdles inside of me, filling my mouth with the sour taste of terror as I turn my board around and paddle away from the shore. I can’t let Todd see me. I can’t let him know I’m here. J.D. and Jeremy are stupid enough to believe in crazy coincidences, but Todd is a predator. He’ll take one look into my eyes, see the hate glowing there, and know I’m here for one reason.

  And then he’ll do whatever it takes to keep himself safe and I’ll never finish what I’ve started.

  “He’s here,” I say, breath coming in harsh gasps as I draw up beside Danny. “He’s here. On the beach.”

  Danny’s smile fades. “Who? Todd?”

  I nod, as frantic as if I’d spotted a shark in the water near my board. “What are we going to do? There’s no way back to the car without going by the beach. He’ll see my face and he’ll know. He’ll know Danny, he’ll—”

  “It’s going to be all right.” Danny squeezes my hand, holding tight as a wave washes over the top of our boards. “We’ll paddle around the cliff. Maybe there will be a smaller beach on the other side. If not, at least we’ll be out of sight while we hang out and wait for them to leave. They won’t stay long. There’s no beer for sale here and frat boys on vacation are going to need a beer in their hand before five o’clock.”

  “Okay,” I say, pulse slowing a bit in response to the calm, logical tone in his voice. “I’ll follow you.”

  “We’ll go together,” he says. “I’ll stay between you and the beach just in case. They’re not going to see you and they’re not going to hurt you, Sam. I promise. I’m never going to let anyone hurt you again.”

  “Let’s go,” I say, paddling toward the cliff, knowing now isn’t the time to have an argument with my knight in shining armor.

  I love Danny for wanting to stand between me and danger and have always admired his brave heart. But he doesn’t understand how dangerous Todd can be. He didn’t sit in the courtroom and watch the monster lie with such conviction that the jury believed his outrageous falsehoods over my simple truth. He didn’t see the look on Todd’s face as he watched his friends take turns with me. Todd was the only one who wasn’t afraid to look me in the eye, who was capable of staring straight into my tear-streaked face and smiling.

  He craved my pain. It was my suffering that got him off, not my body.

  Todd is a menace, an evil thing set loose on the earth, and the biggest threat to my future. Only when Todd is dead, when I know I’ll never have to see his face and never have to fear his touch, will I be able to truly move on.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Danny

  “We are shaped and fashioned by what we love.”

  -Goethe

  Sam and I spend a tense half hour floating in the increasingly dramatic waves rolling into the shore before I paddle back around the cliff to find that the red jeep Sam saw has been replaced by a beat up blue pickup truck. By the time I paddle back to get Sam, we carry our boards in, rinse off, get her board returned and mine strapped to the top of the rental car, there is barely time to get back to the compound before my meeting with the staff.

  I hate leaving Sam alone in the cabin, even for an hour, but I have to do the job I came here to do. If I don’t, we’ll lose our safe haven from the hotel maids. And I still believe the overnight training session could be important for establishing an alibi.

  I know Sam and I will both be careful, but when it comes to a murder charge, an airtight alibi can mean the difference between life and death.

  Death.

  The entire time I’m talking ropes and harnesses and demonstrating the backup security procedures for lashing a sleeping ledge to a cliff face to the other guides, I’m thinking about Todd Winslow. The lag while I wait for what I’ve said to be translated into Spanish, for the staff members who don’t speak English, gives me plenty of time to remember the terror on Sam’s face when she realized he was on the beach.

  He’s the ringleader, the one who set this nightmare in motion. Without him, the other three might have wanted to take turns with a girl, but they wouldn’t have dared to do it.

  Todd is a sociopath. Maybe even a psychopath. At twenty-one, he led the gang rape of an innocent woman and walked away from the trial without a smear on his reputation. Who knows what he’ll be doing by the time he’s thirty. I know he won’t get better with age and that Sam will never fully recover as long as that evil
shit is walking the earth.

  He has to die and I’ll have to be the one to kill him.

  I know Sam’s physically stronger than she was and insanely good with a gun, but she shook for a good ten minutes after we’d paddled out of sight of the beach today. She isn’t as ready for this as she thinks she is.

  But why should she be, after what they did to her?

  I think about it every time I see a guy in a fucking polo shirt with Greek letters on his ball cap. I think about a bunch of smug, entitled assholes ganging up on my girl, holding her down while they use her for a night’s entertainment, not giving a shit about the life they’re ruining or the good person they’re tearing apart.

  Fraternities should be burned to the ground. They bring out the worst in people who aren’t that enlightened to begin with. Any prick who needs to spend a shitload of money to buy “brothers” is only half a man, and people who aren’t whole too often fill the void inside of them with dangerous things.

  During the year Sam and I spent apart, I almost picked up a bottle at least a dozen times.

  On those long nights, when I lay in bed feeling so lonely and sad I wasn’t sure I wanted to be alive anymore, the oblivion I knew I’d find at the bottom of a fifth of Jack sounded pretty damned good.

  But then I would think about that last night with Sam in New Zealand and all the cruel things I said to her after I drank those bottles of wine and I would go for a run or a swim, instead. And while I ran or pulled hard through the water I would think about luring Sam’s attackers into the middle of nowhere and torturing them to within an inch of their lives.

  That is how I filled the hole inside of me and I will use that hatred now, to end Todd before he can hurt anyone else.

  “Do you think so, Danny? That harnessed is the best way?”

  I turn to see Paola, the trilingual Italian girl serving as my translator, looking up at me with an expectant expression. Knowing I’ve been caught zoning out, I grin and run a lazy hand through my hair.