Rival Forces

by D. D. Ayres

  It was surreal, so surprising, she shouted the first thing that came to mind. “What are you doing here?”

  Kye didn’t bother to answer as he rose and hauled the man to his feet.

  “Do you know who the fuck you’re dealing with? I’m the goddamn police!” Vance jerked and twisted, trying to find an advantage, but Kye had him locked in with an elbow about his neck and his arm twisted up behind his back.

  “What you are is about half a second away from a dislocated shoulder. I can feel your rotator cuff shredding under the pressure. Your call.”

  “Let me go!”

  Kye gave him a push that forced Stokes down hard onto the gravel on his hands and knees.

  Yardley was on him in an instant, kicking and punching and lifting the hammer to strike.

  “Whoa, Yard.” Kye grabbed her from behind, one hand gripping the hammer to stop its descent as he lifted her off the man. He pulled her back in tight against his chest, one arm clamped across her torso to hold both her arms to her sides. In the driving rain, no easy task. “You’re okay. You’re okay, Yard.”

  “You bastard!” It was a desperate cry torn from the back of her throat.

  Over the roar of rain and rumble of thunder Kye kept talking low, directly into her ear. “Breathe, baby. Come on, get a grip. I don’t want you hauled into court behind this. He’s not worth it.”

  Finally she stilled and he let her go. She swung around on him, her eyes wild, her hair streaming water, fury in every line of her. “I had that.”

  He grinned at her. “You did. You sure as hell kicked his ass. Now call the police.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  “You say Ms. Summers was on the ground when you arrived.” Sheriff Wiley looked at his notepad. “Where, exactly, was the alleged perpetrator?”

  “On top of Ms. Summers. I can draw you a picture.” Kye’s tone was arctic as he watched Yardley, who sat a few yards away talking with a female EMT.

  “I know it’s irksome to have to keep repeating things. Ms. Summers has a lot of respect in this community. Her story isn’t in dispute. But we need to make certain we haven’t overlooked anything that could allow the suspect to beat the charges. Stokes is pretty beat up.” He smirked. “You take a few swings? Just for fun?”

  Kye’s gust of laughter was more of a snort. “Ms. Summers was giving as good as she got when I got there.”

  The sheriff’s eyes widened. “Everything they say about her being hard-core is true, I guess. Still, it’s too bad he caught her without her dogs.”

  Both men glanced toward the front windows. The drapes and blinds were in shambles on the floor. Long Cujo-type scratches marred the glass. Deep claw marks in the wooden window frame looked like a buzz saw had been at work. On either side of the front door, huge pieces of plaster had been gouged out down to the studs. Oleg had tried his best to come to Yardley’s assistance. The dog was now kenneled in a back room, to protect the enforcers of the law.

  The sheriff grunted. “Maybe Stokes is lucky you came along when you did.”

  Kye didn’t reply. His heart had just stopped slamming in his chest.

  At first, he hadn’t been able to accept what he was seeing in his brights as he came up the drive. Rain was sheeting down his windshield so fast the wipers were almost useless. But there, in the twin cones of his headlights, were two figures wrestling in the mud. A flash of lightning confirmed that the figure on the bottom was Yard.

  Despite what movie-choreographed brawls portrayed, being on the bottom in a fight was a position only the most highly skilled fighters ever reversed. She’d needed help. Or a weapon.

  His mind did a quick flashback to the hammer she’d raised just as he’d reached them. She might have made that first strike count. It didn’t bear thinking about what Stokes might have done to her if she’d missed, or only slightly injured him. And he hadn’t been there for backup.

  “You haven’t said what brought you out here today.”

  Kye looked back, surprised that the sheriff was still talking to him. “I’m visiting. As a friend of the family,” he added as the man’s gaze turned speculative. “I trained with her father, Bronson Battise. Her brother Lauray Battise and I served together in Afghanistan. K-9 military police.” He pulled out his business card for the second time that day. “In case you need me to make a formal statement or anything.”

  Sheriff Wiley nodded. “We’re just about done here.”

  Yardley straightened from her slump when she noticed Sheriff Wiley and Kye coming toward her. Kye had hardly taken his eyes off her. He came toward her now like some vengeful totem, his face a mask of controlled anger as he stared down at her.

  She didn’t need his tight expression to tell her she looked like hell. Beneath the swaddling of an EMT Mylar blanket, she was soaked to the bone. There was a muddy puddle around her shoes of water that had dripped from her clothing and boots. She could feel bruises beginning to set in different parts of her body. Somewhere in the struggle she’d bitten her tongue.

  The sheriff spoke first. “We got your attacker locked up tight, Ms. Summers. You can rest easy on that. With the holiday weekend, he won’t be able to post bail until Monday morning.” He glanced at the EMT who nodded before saying, “We’re going to send you to the emergency room to be checked out. And then we’re done for tonight.”

  Yardley shook her head. “I don’t need medical attention.”

  “It’s not really an option, Ms. Summers. We need a medical opinion, and photos, of your injuries for our report. Plus DNA evidence from your clothing and under your fingernails. You don’t want us to overlook any detail that might set him free.”

  Yardley set her mouth but nodded. She’d been debating whether or not to mention it. But the thought that Stokes might weasel out of the charges, because she had not actually been raped, made her decide.

  She pulled the red envelope out from under her blanket. “This came last night. Left on the doorstep. I didn’t think it was important. But now…”

  Sheriff Wiley slipped the picture out then looked back at Yardley, his expression carefully blank. “You should have called me right after you opened it.”

  “I thought it was just a prank.”

  “Let me see that.” Kye leaned in as the sheriff turned it his way. The look on his face said everything the lawman’s hadn’t. “Son of a bitch!”

  “Easy, son.” Sheriff Wiley continued to watch Yardley, his face still void of expression. “This kind of thing happen before, Ms. Summers?”

  “No. Oh, I get angry letters, once a year or so. All businesses do. But nothing—nothing like that.” A shiver she couldn’t repress quaked through her. She shot a hard glance at Kye, daring him to make any kind of comforting or protective move.

  She’d lied to herself about the ugliness of the picture because she didn’t want to think anyone could hate her that much. But she saw the fallacy of her thinking on Kye’s face. She followed his gaze and saw that her blanket had slipped so that her torn shirt showed. There were finger bruises on her upper breast. She hiked the blanket up, its surface making a metallic rustle.

  The sheriff handed the envelope off to a deputy, who carefully bagged it. “What makes you think Stokes had something to do with that piece of shit? Excuse my language.”

  She told him about an incident two weeks earlier when Stokes had set a dog on another handler. “He said his department had let him go after they got my report. He wanted me to reinstate him in our program so he could get his job back. I refused.”

  The sheriff and Kye exchanged looks. “I’m going to follow up on that. Police officers don’t usually get fired unless there’s a well-documented pattern of misconduct.”

  He turned to Kye. “You staying here tonight?”

  “Yes.” Yardley glanced up at Kye in surprise. He didn’t give her a chance to argue. “I’ll feed the dogs and lock up. Then I’ll be along to pick you up.”

  Yardley nodded and stood up. She was okay until she looked into his face. G
rim and tense and gray beneath his bronze skin, he looked at her with such protective tenderness that she had to work at not responding to it. No, better to stay away from his big solid strength. She was still shook up and scared to discover how vulnerable she was. She couldn’t afford to want the things his expression offered. It was sentiment, the feeling one would have for any vulnerable creature.

  Count on no one. Need is weakness.

  She turned to the EMT. “Let’s do this.”

  * * *

  Kye slanted a glance at Yardley. In the light from the dashboard he could only see her in profile. She was solemn and much too still for his liking. She’d stopped talking the second they’d exited the hospital. Her lip was swollen so it probably hurt to talk. The bandage above her eye covered the glued-together cut above her brow. Only her hand moved, stroking Lily, who uncharacteristically lay quietly in a lap that wasn’t his.

  The emergency room was satisfied that all her injuries were superficial. She’d be sore and bruised for a while. Nothing more.

  Gut churning in lingering anger for her sake, Kye turned his attention back to the road. The storminess was nothing more than flashes on the southern horizon. But the rain had grown pebbly with ice crystals. Driving had turned treacherous, requiring nearly all his attention. The part that wasn’t driving was reassessing the day.

  In the little more than twelve hours since his arrival, he’d encountered the FBI, the DEA, and been witness to a felony assault that brought out half the county’s sheriff’s department. It hadn’t occurred to him that Law’s instinct was right. That there was real trouble brewing in Yardley’s life. The kind in which people could get hurt.

  He needed to get up to speed. Find his phone. Check in with Law. He needed intel. Though heaven knew he couldn’t count on anything more from Yardley tonight.

  His last clear view of her face was of a woman moving from anger to shock. Her eyes were unfocused by exhaustion and pain. Like a soldier sometimes did in a tough situation, she’d gone to ground, silent within her own thoughts. With only her thoughts keeping her company, he could feel her veering into dark territory.

  Get her home. Get her cleaned up. Get her fed. Get her to bed. In the morning, get her to talk.

  Setting his priorities helped.

  After sitting like a statue on the drive back, she reacted quickly upon their arrival. Before he could even put the SUV in park she pushed Lily from her lap and was out of the vehicle.

  He and Lily followed, catching up before she could open her front door. He snagged her arm. “Hang on, Yard.” She shot him a wary glance. “You should have told me you’d been threatened.”

  She swung back to him, her eyes like liquid onyx in the porch light. “It had nothing to do with you.”

  “You’re my business right now, Yard. I wouldn’t have left you alone for a second if I’d thought there was the slightest chance of you being in danger.”

  Her forehead furrowed. “Why?”

  “Because.” He wished he had better.

  She studied his face. He knew she was seeing everything he felt, hurt and worry and an inexplicable attraction, and it was all for her. “Why did you leave earlier without a good-bye?”

  “I didn’t leave you. I went to find us something to eat.” He rubbed his hands together, cold because she was wearing his SAR jacket. “It’s New Year’s Day. Nothing, and I mean nothing, is open in this valley. I had to drive almost to Richmond to find a place where I could get a hot meal. I was bringing back dinner for us, but we got distracted.”

  The softening in her expression surprised him. He stared at her, trying to hold back what he felt. Resisting the urge to touch. But something tender moved through his voice. “I wish the fuck I knew what was going on between us.”

  She stayed perfectly still, as if she didn’t understand. Or because she did.

  He reached out and touched her face as tenderly as he could, fingertips barely resting along her jawline. “I owe you an apology for this morning. I should never have put my hands on you. I’m sorry.”

  She looked perplexed for a moment, but she hadn’t backed out of his touch. “The kiss?”

  “Okay. Yeah.”

  Is that how she remembered their physical confrontation? Not the fact that he, much like Stokes, had forced her to deal with the fact that he was bigger and stronger than she was? No, that wasn’t honest. He hadn’t been doing that. He’d taken the opportunity to give in to the urge to touch her because he couldn’t help himself. It was there now. His gaze locked on her mouth but he dropped his hand before he could finish the impulse to pull her close.

  That urge had been hammering away at him ever since he saw her walking up the drive this morning. He’d heard some scientist say recently on a show about intergalactic travel that time and distance were elastic in the universe. Changeable by circumstances. Time and distance had collapsed when he saw Yardley this morning. The years in between had been sucked into a black hole of emotions that had not dimmed and winked out, hadn’t even aged. As fucked up an idea as it seemed, he still felt—everything—for Yardley Summers.

  He’d come here to serve Law’s request and protect Yard. But once he saw her, he was never far from the uncomfortable truth that there was a third imperative to his unspoken charge. Touch. He wanted to serve, protect, and touch her.

  But wanting wasn’t having. Thinking wasn’t acting. He wasn’t going to act on that third imperative. Then she’d touched him first.

  He could still feel the irritation of her poking him with her finger. Only it didn’t provoke anger from him. He’d gone hard as rock under that prodding touch. With her face only inches from his, the sensual warmth of her breath feathering across his face while the dark gleam of her angry stare dared him to act, he’d reacted to the only command getting through to his blood-starved brain. Grab her. Hold her. Take her.

  He’d grabbed. He’d held her. He’d kissed her.

  A good guy wouldn’t have taken advantage. Wouldn’t have pulled her in and kissed her thoroughly with lips and tongue while giving her a full-body massage. A good guy would have had more control. Yeah. His apology had been all about the kiss.

  It took him a few seconds to think those thoughts. At the end of them he realized he wasn’t the only one evaluating their silence.

  Yard was looking at him with eyes wider than before. Her lips had parted softly, as if she needed more oxygen than she was getting. He’d swear she was leaning toward him, her chin raised a fraction. Was she reading him, feeling the surge of impulses he plainly wanted to bury but couldn’t completely master? Was her quickened breath an indication that she was not averse to the carnal thoughts running through his head?

  “Dammit, Yard. Stop staring at me.”

  She blinked and looked down, but there was a curious smile on the uplift of her mouth.

  He reached past her, registering but ignoring the brush of his arm across her breasts. She didn’t move away. In fact, it felt like she moved deliberately against him, her warm moist breath expelled practically into his ear. His dick jerked, angling like the needle on a Geiger counter toward the source of the near-radioactive lust surging through him. Hell. Gritting his teeth, pretending he didn’t register the lush mounts pressed against his arm or the sweet breath tickling his ear, he opened her door. “Inside. Now. You’re shivering.”

  * * *

  Oleg greeted Yardley with excited yips and jumps of greeting. She bent down to accept his doggy affections, glad that Kye had left him free to protect her home. Even if Stokes was safely behind bars in the county jail, she knew she wasn’t going to feel safe again in her house for a very long time.

  She suspected all that chewed paper strewn across the floor had been once been a roll of kitchen towels. But Oleg hadn’t damaged anything else within her view. Or continued to tear up her house. She’d seen the damage he could do. He’d tried to take down a wall to get to her, to protect her. The crisis had bonded them. She and Oleg were a K-9 team. She’d never doubt him
again.

  It took her a few more seconds to realize that, beside the chewed towels, the living room was clean. Without asking, she knew Kye had picked up the shattered blinds and removed them. The chunks of plaster had been swept up and the drapes had been rehung, even if they did droop unevenly from a bent rod. He must have done it before following to the hospital. His efforts touched her more than she would have expected.

  She turned back and noticed he hadn’t come in behind her. She went out to the porch and saw a dark form moving away. He was carrying Lily on his shoulders toward the bunkhouse.

  “Wait!”

  He turned around. If surprise had a posture, his was it.

  “You said you brought food. Did you eat?” Not waiting to see if her indirect invitation would be accepted, she turned and went back in.

  A few minutes later Kye entered and lowered the crate he carried with Lily onto the floor. He was smiling at her with more gratitude than she expected, or deserved. She didn’t want to be alone just yet. Anyone, she told herself, would have been welcome.

  She ignored the little voice whispering Liar. Kye had been there tonight. It meant everything.

  He came in quickly and lifted a pair of leashes off their pegs by the door. “I’ll walk the dogs while you hop in the shower. Then I’ll heat up dinner.”

  He didn’t wait for her to respond but began leashing Oleg and then Lily. When he was done he opened the door. “Let’s go, Lily. Oleg. Jdi ven.”

  “Hold on.” Yardley swung his coat from her shoulders and held it out.

  He smiled at her with more tenderness than her offer required. “Thank you.”

  Yardley stripped and stepped into the shower without even peeking at herself in the mirror. Afraid to register how bad she must look. The hot water stung her skin in a dozen places—her left cheek, one shoulder, her left breast, her knees—but she didn’t care. She would have stood uncomplaining under water twice as hot if it would erase Stokes’s touch.