Fight for Me

by Jessica Linden

  “Get him off me!” she shrieked. “Get him off!” Panic set in and she put her palms flat on his chest, pushing with all her strength while flailing her legs, but he didn’t budge.

  His body rolled to the side and Natalie frantically wiped at her face with her sleeves. They came away dark and wet and warm. Horrified, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

  Oh my God, I killed him, dead, dead, dead, his blood’s all over me.

  “Are you okay?”

  What to do? What to do? Think, Natalie, think. Oh my God, he’s dead.

  Her breath started coming in short pants, and she realized she was hyperventilating.

  Don’t panic, don’t panic, there’s no time to panic. But he’s dead, he’s dead. There’s so much blood.

  Abruptly, she sat up, gasping for air. She looked down at herself. There was blood and bits of white and gray . . .

  The bile rose in her throat and she clapped a hand over her mouth, crawling away on her hands and knees on the grimy pavement.

  Get away, just get away. What have I done? I killed him, killed him, killed him.

  “Are you okay?” the voice asked again.

  Natalie spun, and her eyes focused on her rescuer, getting a good look at him for the first time. His eyes were hard and fierce, and for a moment she regretted not listening to his demands that she run. She should be scared. This man was dangerous. He looked it, and she’d already seen firsthand what he was capable of. Would she be any safer with him?

  Yes. Instinctively she knew she was. He’d put his life on the line to save hers. She could trust him.

  Looking into his eyes just now, she felt the panic slowly begin to leave her and her thoughts became a little more coherent. Looking at him, in the middle of this blood-soaked horrible alley, she found her center in an unlikely place—in the abyss of his dark eyes. Something clicked when she looked at him.

  “Are you okay?” he repeated.

  She nodded, then glanced to the side at the body next to her. His back was to her and through his hair matted with blood, she could see into his head. She squeezed her eyes shut and turned her face away. Even though she knew the answer, she had to ask.

  “Is he . . . did I kill him?”

  His expression was grim, and she knew she had. She was a murderer. Oh God, oh God, oh God.

  No, stop. There was no time for this. She looked at the man’s face again and found her focus.

  His face softened a touch, and he held his hand out. “Come on.”

  She looked up at him. “What should we do?”

  “We need to get out of here.”

  She looked over at the body once more and wrapped her arms around herself. “I killed him.” Her lip trembled, but she sucked it in. This was no time for tears.

  “You had no choice.” He paused. “Why was he after you?”

  “He was sent by my father.” Her voice was mechanical. She didn’t even know this guy’s name. She squeezed her eyes shut. That’s not important right now. “My father is not a good man,” she added.

  Sirens blared in the distance.

  “Fuck.” He grabbed the gun and hastily wiped it down with his T-shirt, then hesitated briefly before tossing it into the Dumpster.

  “We need to get out of here,” he repeated, holding out his hand again. The sirens got louder, their urgency snapping her out of her fog, and she put her hand in his. He pulled her to her feet, and her body brushed close against him.

  “Where are we going to go?” she asked.

  He scanned the alley with a calculating look in his eyes. “Over the fence. Can you climb?”

  She looked over her shoulder at the chain-link fence behind her. Her legs were still wobbly beneath her, but she grabbed her backpack from where it had fallen and slung it over her shoulders. “Yes.”

  Even though the woman—Knox hadn’t even thought to ask her name yet—claimed she could climb the fence, he had his doubts. As she slid her feet into the chain links, he put his hands on her waist to help her up. He climbed a few feet below her, ready to catch her if she slipped. The wounds on his arms burned, and the slash from X’s knife was reopening, but he ignored the pain, focusing on her instead.

  He would not let her fall.

  She reached the top and threw one leg over. He picked up the pace so he could already be on the other side when she started her descent. He jumped the last few feet and then put his hands on her waist to bring her down, her body sliding along his.

  That something he’d felt when he first saw her stirred within him again. He wanted to thread his fingers in her hair, drag her head back, and ravage her mouth.

  Her eyes locked with his, and he knew he wasn’t the only one affected.

  The sirens blared louder, and he stepped away from her.

  Priorities, Knox. He’d get her safe. Then maybe he’d take the time to explore what that something was. Later.

  “Can you run?” he asked.

  She nodded. He set the pace slower than he would have if he were solo and increased it when she managed to keep up. He took them south, back the way he’d come. It put him at greater risk of running into X’s men, but getting her out of the north side—and away from any more men like the one they’d just faced—seemed wise. Plus, they were both covered in blood and that wasn’t going to be easy to hide, even in the dark. They needed a resting stop before they could continue.

  They? Knox questioned himself.

  Yes, they.

  For years, it’d been him against the world. Now within moments of meeting this woman, he was throwing his lot in with hers. Deep in his gut though, he knew he wouldn’t be okay walking away from her.

  And he still didn’t even know her goddamn name.

  Christ.

  The closer they got toward the south side of town, the hard knocks of life became more evident by the run-down buildings and unkempt lawns.

  A dive hotel was their best bet. The blood on their clothes might raise a few eyebrows, but questions wouldn’t be asked. Hopefully. They didn’t have another viable option. If they were farther out toward the suburbs, they could hole up in a vacant house, but vacant apartments in the city were hard to come by and the risk of being noticed there was greater. Besides, they needed water and electricity, and clean towels would be nice.

  He slowed down to a brisk walk.

  “Why are we slowing?” she asked. “Is it safe?”

  “Safe enough.” As long as they kept to the side streets and kept moving, they’d be fine. It was doubtful the police would canvass an area this wide so quickly. But shit, they were closing in on X’s territory, the very place he’d run away from hours ago.

  “How many men were pursuing you?” he asked. He wanted to know what they could be up against.

  “I’m not sure,” she said. “I thought I knew all of the bodyguards my father used, but I’ve never seen him before.”

  They were nearing the corner of Prosper and Martin Streets. A few blocks ahead, there was a motel with room doors that opened to the outside. People were less likely to see them that way. It was unlikely X was already looking for him, but it was only a matter of time. The less he showed his face around here, the better.

  He stopped across the street from the motel, and she sidled up next to him, looking to him for direction. She still seemed shaken by everything that had gone down and happy to let him take the lead, not that he could blame her.

  The brand of clothing she wore and the way she held herself gave away that she wasn’t from his neck of the woods, but her life couldn’t have been all that great since she was running from it.

  “We’re going to check into that motel,” he said. He put his hands on his hips, weighing out their options. Fuck. He really didn’t want to send her in there, but his face was far too recognizable.

  He lifted the edge of his T-shirt and gently wiped her face with it, rubbing away the remaining blood. “Do you have a jacket or something you can throw over your clothes?”

  She nodded
and slung her backpack around to her side, unzipping it and pulling out a black hoodie. “What’s the plan?”

  “Can you check us into that hotel? Don’t use your real name. Pay with cash.” He reached into his pocket for some bills.

  “I’ve got it,” she said, patting her backpack.

  He took a deep breath and put his hands on her shoulders, looking into her eyes. An uncomfortable feeling rose within him, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Fear. He didn’t want to send her in there alone, but there was no better option.

  “I’ll wait around the side of the building. If you run into any trouble, anything at all, just scream and I’ll be there.”

  She nodded, her eyes wide and trusting. She let out a little breathy laugh and put on a brave smile. “It can’t get much worse, right?”

  She leaned into him, taking him by surprise for a second. Then he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her body close. He didn’t know if it was a blessing or a curse to have met her in these circumstances.

  He put his face in her hair and smelled the faint scent of strawberries, which momentarily overrode all that surrounded them. Blessing, he decided. Definitely a blessing.

  His eyes focused on her slightly parted lips, then shifted up to her eyes. They widened for a split second before her eyelids closed and her body shifted imperceptibly closer.

  Then he crushed his mouth to hers. She stiffened for just a moment, before yielding and letting her body form to his.

  He hadn’t planned to do it, but God, looking at her with her brave smile to cover her fear, how could he not? She had to feel an inkling of what he did.

  She clung to him, matching his urgency with her own. They were both in the moment, alive in the here and now, like they weren’t in an impossibly fucked-up situation.

  She pulled away, and her chest heaved as she breathed deeply. Her lips were slightly swollen and red, making him want to pull her to him again.

  There will be time for that later, he promised himself. That promise was the only thing that kept him in place as she crossed traffic and into the motel lobby, out of his sight.

  Getting a room key was easy. The clerk was more interested in watching reruns of Maury than getting a good look at her. The woman had handed her an actual metal key and not a key card. Natalie didn’t even know there were hotels that still used real keys, but apparently this one did.

  She emerged from the hotel office, and her protector was waiting for her along the side of the building as promised. When his eyes locked with hers, some of the tension left them. He was obviously relieved to see her again.

  He had the opposite effect on her—she became tense, but for a very different reason.

  He took her breath away.

  He would be good-looking under any circumstances, but what could she say? The fierce protective look on his face made him her warrior. He had a presence about him that captivated her. He was wild, dangerous, and unlike anyone she’d ever met. She should run from him as soon as she knew it was safe.

  But she wouldn’t. She didn’t want to, and she didn’t think she could.

  “What room?” he asked.

  “One-oh-seven.”

  They walked swiftly to the door. The metal seven had fallen off the door, but someone had drawn it on with a Sharpie. Natalie inserted the key into the lock while he kept watch, shielding her body with his own. When she opened the door, a strong, musty scent spilled from the room.

  She hurried inside and he closed the door behind them. The room was dingy, with outdated wallpaper and scratchy polyester bedspreads. The security lock was broken, so he moved the dresser in front of the door while she drew the curtains tightly closed.

  She whirled around to face him, suddenly feeling shy. She didn’t even know his name.

  He walked the perimeter of the room, watching her, reminding her of a caged tiger: stunning, untamed, and threatening.

  “Who are you?” she ventured bravely.

  “Knox,” he said simply.

  “Knox? Knox what?”

  “Just Knox.” He propped himself against the edge of the dresser and crossed him arms over his chest, saying nothing. Watching her.

  “I’m Natalie,” she said, her fingers toying with the simple moon-shaped pendant on her necklace. “Natalie Farrington Kent.”

  If he recognized her name, his expression didn’t give any indication.

  “Why don’t you get cleaned up?” He nodded toward the bathroom.

  Of course. That was why they were here, after all. She stripped off her hoodie, cringing at the bloodstained shirt she still wore. She couldn’t wait to throw it away.

  But wait, would that be safe? She hadn’t planned for this situation. Damn it!

  She glanced up at Knox, now shirtless and riffling through his duffel bag. When he pulled out a small first-aid kit, she gasped.

  “You were hurt!” She crossed the room to him, and gently put her fingers on his shoulder. “You were shot.”

  He shrugged. “Just a graze.”

  She looked to the other arm, where a gash was still seeping blood. “He got you with the knife.”

  “No. That was from earlier.”

  She raised her eyebrows in question, but he said nothing.

  “Let me help you with this,” she said.

  “I’m used to tending my own wounds.”

  She bit her lip and studied the gash. “This one’s deep. It might need stitches.”

  He shook his head. “I’ve had worse. It’ll be fine.”

  She put her hands on her hips and frowned at him. Why was he pulling back? Didn’t he realize he’d saved her life? The least she could do was help. She picked up his kit and walked toward the bathroom. “Come in here where the light’s better.”

  She flipped on the light in the bathroom and jumped, her hand clutching at her chest. He was right behind her in the mirror. She laughed nervously, trying to play it off. “You move fast.”

  The bathroom was tiny, and the two of them could barely fit in it together without brushing up against one another. Her body was all too aware of his presence, which was overwhelming her in the small space.

  He leaned against the counter right beside her and tossed his ruined T-shirt into the trash can.

  Holy wow. She was kidding if she thought she was overwhelmed before. Her heart hammered in her rib cage.

  His chest and abs were muscled with deep ridges and valleys. Her fingers itched to run over the intricacies of his chest and abdomen. His physique looked like it belonged on a chiseled statue rather than a flesh-and-blood man.

  Over his right pec was a large tattoo of an X. She traced her fingers over it lightly, wanting to ask what it stood for but afraid he wouldn’t answer. Then she realized what she was doing—feeling up a virtual stranger. And while he was injured, no less. They’d only just met an hour before, and she didn’t even know his name until a few minutes ago.

  She looked up, her hand still on his chest, to find her face inches from his. Her gaze flicked down to his lips, and her insides warmed at the memory of the kiss they’d shared—hot, deep, perfect. His dark eyes bore into hers with an intensity she’d never experienced before. It rocked her. If he weren’t hurt and she weren’t . . .

  She cleared her throat and hastily dropped her hand. Focus, Nat, focus. She pulled out a small bottle of antiseptic. She looked up at him as she twisted off the cap. “This is going to sting.”

  With an apologetic look, she poured it on the gash. He didn’t even wince, keeping his gaze steady—unflinching—on her. She moved to his other arm to inspect the graze wound.

  “This one isn’t as bad,” she said, relieved. She hated that he had been hurt trying to help her. She owed her life to this man, this mysterious warrior. She wanted to unravel all his layers to find out what lay beneath.

  She tried to remain calm and collected as she treated his wounds, but every time her fingers came into contact with his skin, a jolt shot through her and continued to circulate. The ene
rgy and tension between them kept building and building. Her system was in overload just from being in such close proximity.

  “You’ll need to shower before I can cover it with gauze.”

  “Thank you,” he said.

  “You’re welcome.” She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling incredibly exposed.

  He raised a hand to trail his fingers down her cheek, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. He looked like he wanted to say something, but then he blinked and dropped his hand.

  He turned away from her, unbuttoning his jeans and letting them fall to the floor, leaving only black boxer briefs. She reluctantly averted her eyes, exhaling heavily when he stepped into the shower and pulled the curtain closed before stripping the rest of the way.

  Relief or disappointment?

  The water started running and steam poured over the top of the curtain.

  Don’t be ridiculous. If there was ever a worse time to have feelings like these, she couldn’t picture it.

  She looked in the mirror and was greeted by dark circles under her eyes and a hollowness she didn’t remember. Had they always been that way?

  Her life had sure changed in the last few hours. Miraculously, she’d escaped with only minor scrapes and bruises. Noticing the stains and grime all over her skin, she turned on the water in the sink and splashed it on her arms. The water going down the drain was tinged with pinkish-red.

  “Oh, God.”

  She looked at her reflection in the mirror again, and she realized she was staring into the face of a murderer.

  Knox tilted his face up toward the showerhead, letting the hot water cascade over him. He couldn’t remember the last time his body had taken such abuse. He hoped they’d get a decent night’s rest before the next disaster struck.

  He heard a thud from the other side of the curtain and frowned. Then he heard Natalie gasping.

  Quickly pulling aside the curtain and grabbing a towel to wrap around his waist, he found her sitting on the closed toilet with her head between her knees, desperately trying to suck in air.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.