Fight for Me

by Jessica Linden

  She lifted her head up, panic in her eyes. “I can’t . . . I . . .”

  He pulled her to her feet and yanked her shirt over her head, then flicked open the button on her jeans and slid those down.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, and he lifted her over the tub’s rim and into the shower spray with him, holding her tight against his chest.

  Of course she wasn’t okay. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that she wasn’t accustomed to violence, and she’d just been forced to kill a man. Hell, he’d witnessed deadly violence on the regular, but he’d never done it himself.

  He would have done it for her, though. He cursed himself for not being faster, for not anticipating that fucker’s moves. It should’ve been him, not her.

  As she clung to him, her breathing started to slow. He ran his hand over her hair and put his lips to her temple.

  He grabbed the soap and ran it over her back in lazy circles, hesitating when he came to her bra strap. She reached back to unclip it, letting it slide to the ground, and he bit back a groan as her breasts pressed up against his chest.

  “Hold me,” she whispered.

  As if anyone or anything could pry me away from her.

  Her fingers dug into the flesh of his back as if she were clinging to the edge of a cliff, holding on for dear life.

  And she probably was. She’d crossed a line earlier tonight that there was no going back from.

  “Let’s get you clean,” he said. “You’ll feel better.”

  He wasn’t able to take away the memory that would haunt her, but at least he could get rid of the physical reminders.

  She nodded and he knelt to wash her calves, kneading and massaging her muscles as he covered her soft skin with suds. He worked his way up her thighs, and she put her hands on his shoulders for balance.

  As he ran his hand along her inner thigh, she inhaled sharply and swayed against him.

  All that separated his mouth from her core was the thin fabric layer of her panties. How easy would it be to shove those aside and taste her? Too easy. She’d probably let him, but she might not forgive him. When they were together—and they would be—he wanted her to want him and not be in the throes of post-traumatic-stress meltdown. Though she might welcome the distraction, Knox wouldn’t do that to her.

  He inched his way higher, washing her navel, but not before gently suckling her belly. He stood. Her eyes were closed, and her mouth was slightly parted.

  She was so fucking sexy.

  He ran the soap over her breasts, teasing her nipples to attention with his fingertips. She gasped, her mouth forming the perfect invitation. He cupped her face, capturing her mouth with his. When she responded by grabbing his shoulders, he let her take the lead, let her deepen the kiss.

  She was going to destroy him, and she had no fucking clue.

  He broke the kiss. “Let me wash your hair.”

  Her big blue eyes peered up at him, and she nodded. He filled the palm of his hand with shampoo, and she let out a little laugh and smiled. “That’s way too much.”

  She scooped out a portion of the shampoo and worked it into her hair. He was content to watch her, to admire the rise and fall of her breasts while she worked the now darker blond strands from root to tip. When she started to rinse the suds out of her hair, he tangled his hands with hers.

  When her hair was clean, she faced him, eyes open. “Why did you do it?” she asked. “Why did you save me?”

  “I had to.” It was the honest-to-God truth.

  The look in her gaze was almost too much for him—whether he’d saved her or not, he wasn’t worthy of that look. The look scorched his soul—it was good and pure and everything he wasn’t.

  So with one final caress of her lips, he stepped out of the shower to allow her to finish washing in private, exchanging the now soaked towel with another. He left, not looking back, knowing if he did, he wouldn’t leave.

  Chapter 3

  Natalie gingerly patted herself dry with the scratchy motel towels. Her body was growing stiff and achy, the last few hours catching up to her once again.

  She replayed the night’s events in her mind, viewing everything as a spectator, like it hadn’t really happened to her. Twenty-four hours ago, she was the sheltered Farrington heiress, locked away in her tower. And now?

  She was free, but she’d paid a heavy price. One she hadn’t prepared for—how could she have? A man’s life had been exchanged for her own. Even if he was her father’s hired muscle, taking his life was still a blow she hadn’t expected; she knew she’d do anything to gain her freedom, but this?

  The image of the guard’s fallen body flashed through her mind, and she briefly closed her eyes, willing the image to recede, but it was burned into her memory. Would she ever stop seeing it? It was all so surreal.

  Except for Knox. He was solid, real, hers. That much she knew.

  Beneath his hard exterior and guarded eyes there was a soft side. She’d experienced it firsthand just now when he’d tenderly cared for her in the shower.

  But underneath the softness there was a whole slew of heat and hardness that simultaneously petrified and excited her.

  Her ruined clothing was no longer on the floor. Knox must have taken care of it for her. Oh, yes, there was definitely more to him than met the eye.

  She slipped out of the bathroom, hiking the towel farther up her chest. She’d just been almost completely naked with Knox, but suddenly and irrationally, she felt shy.

  He was stretched out on one of the double beds, scrolling through his phone. His eyes met hers.

  “Feeling better?”

  “Yes. Thank you.” She searched through her backpack for a clean pair of panties and a T-shirt. She hadn’t anticipated having a roommate when she’d packed, so she hadn’t brought pajamas.

  A ridiculous thing to be worried about. She and Knox were way past worrying about pajamas.

  She returned to the bathroom to put her clothes on, then sat on the corner of the bed.

  Knox scooted to sit next to her. He lifted her chin to look at her neck. Bruises were beginning to emerge where the guard had choked her. “Does it hurt?” he asked.

  “A little,” Natalie admitted, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. Knox’s fists were already clenched and his expression murderous.

  He stood and pulled an ice pack out of his first-aid kit, cracking it to get the cold flowing. Crossing to Natalie, he held it up to her neck.

  She let out a sigh of relief. “Thanks.”

  “Anything else hurt?”

  She shook her head. His washing of her was so thorough that he would know better than she would. Tingles raced through her blood at the memory of his touch. The tingles turned to fire when she thought of his mouth on her skin.

  She closed her eyes briefly to revel in the memory, then she took a deep breath.

  “I think we should call the police.”

  “Why?” Knox frowned. “We just ran from them.”

  She traced her finger along the fraying seam of the bedspread. “I just killed someone, Knox. Yes, it was self-defense, but I murdered someone. I have to turn myself in.”

  He paced in front of her. “That’s not a good idea.”

  “I won’t be able to hide what I’ve done forever.” She had been perfectly prepared to run and hide from her father, but the situation had escalated. And fast.

  “Would you believe me if I told you there were dirty cops in this city?” He sat next to her and rested his elbows on his knees.

  She frowned. She’d never even considered that the police might not be trustworthy, but they were people, just like everyone else. They were susceptible to corruption.

  Right and wrong and good and bad were no longer black and white areas. She was swimming in a sea of gray where her trust needed to be closely guarded.

  She never would have thought she’d trust someone like Knox with her life, but she did. Unequivocally.

  And now knowing the lengths her father would go
to get her home made her nervous. He could more than buy someone off. Besides, she didn’t know exactly what would happen if she turned herself in. Thinking about it more, she realized if she turned herself in to the police, then she might as well just return to her father.

  Either way, she’d end up separated from Knox, and that bothered her way more than it should. Though he’d played the Good Samaritan and risked his life for her, he didn’t mean anything to her. He couldn’t. She’d just met the man.

  Still, her gut clenched.

  She sighed and rested her face in her hands. It was four in the morning, and she wasn’t thinking clearly. In her sheltered isolation, she’d had a lot of time to prepare for her escape. Meticulous plans made and remade and tweaked until they were perfect. Every contingency had been considered. Or so she’d thought—she definitely hadn’t planned for murder. And now that she was on the run, she didn’t have time for that kind of planning or second-guessing, and she hated how vulnerable that left her. No matter. She lifted her face and rolled her shoulders. She’d made it this far. She’d just have to figure it out. And now she had something—someone—on her side she definitely hadn’t planned on.

  “Let’s get some sleep,” Knox said. “We don’t need to make any decisions tonight.”

  What he wasn’t saying was in the way he was looking at her—he wouldn’t let her go to the police. It seemed she wasn’t the only one reluctant to separate.

  She nodded, barely able to keep her head up, and crawled up toward the pillows. He lifted the blankets over her, and she held them up for him to climb in beside her. With no hesitation, he lay next to her and pulled her body against his.

  There were two beds in the room, but it hadn’t occurred to either of them to make use of the second.

  Wrapped in his muscular arms, for the first time since her mother died, Natalie felt safe.

  Natalie blinked as dingy curtains and cheap particle board furniture came into focus. Where am I?

  She sat up straight, pulling the sheet up around her neck. Mercifully, she’d slept a deep, dreamless sleep, but now in the stark light of day, the events of last night came crashing back. She looked around frantically.

  Knox. Where is Knox?

  He walked out of the bathroom, wearing jeans that were unbuttoned at the waist and hanging low on his hips. For a moment, she’d thought he’d decided she was too much trouble.

  But something told her this man didn’t give up easily.

  She was pleased to see his bandages were still white. Good. He hadn’t bled through them overnight.

  His dark eyes swept over her, sending tingles down her spine. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “You didn’t. What time is it?”

  “Ten.”

  He sat on the edge of the bed next to her, his presence reassuring. She wanted to pull him back into bed, to restart the morning with him beside her. But there were more pressing issues.

  “Are we leaving?” Part of her hoped he’d say no, that it’d be safe to bunker down here for another day while they figured out what to do.

  She could definitely handle spending a lazy day in a motel room with Knox.

  “We should move.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “The longer we stay in one place, the easier we are to find.”

  She sighed. “Maybe we can just move to room one-oh-nine?” she asked hopefully with a wry smile.

  Knox chuckled, the first time she’d heard him laugh. It had a deep timbre that warmed her heart. “I wish, sweetheart.”

  He stood and held his hand out to help her up. She groaned as her muscles tightened under the weight of her own body. She ached all over.

  This time it was his turn for a wry smile. “You won’t be as sore once your muscles warm up.”

  He drew her to his chest and kissed her forehead. She closed her eyes, drinking in the warmth of his body and the feel of his lips on her skin. He released her much too soon.

  She hobbled to the bathroom to brush her teeth, and by the time she emerged, she was moving much easier. The sun shone through the closed blinds and Natalie slipped her fingers between them to peek outside.

  “Oh, no,” she whispered. Apprehension filled her.

  Knox looked up, getting to his feet. “What is it?”

  Natalie peeked out the window again. She didn’t think he was one of her father’s men. Maybe it was just a coincidence that he was sitting there, looking so ominous. She wanted to believe it, but after meeting Knox, she didn’t believe in coincidences.

  “A guy is sitting in a car in the parking lot, watching the door.” She shoved her legs into a pair of jeans. “We’ve got to go. Now.”

  Knox glanced out the window and cursed, recognition sparking in his eyes.

  “Do you know him?” she asked.

  “Not exactly.” He paused, and she waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. No time for that now, anyway.

  He quickly gathered his belongings and threw them in his bag. “I don’t think he knows we’re on to him. Yet.”

  He tucked his phone in his back pocket, but she shook her head as she pulled and twisted her bra around. “Leave your phone behind.”

  Understanding showed on his face. “Fuck.”

  “I’m probably just being paranoid . . .”

  “No, you’re right. We don’t want the cops tracing us.” His eyes searched her face. “I’ll keep you safe.”

  She pressed against him, her heart beating into overdrive, both from fear and the look in his eyes—the one that told her he was willing to risk his life for her.

  He crushed his lips to hers, and Natalie returned the kiss, letting it express the things they had no time to say.

  She reluctantly let him go. His expression turned hard.

  “When I open the door,” Knox instructed, “I want you to take a right and walk quickly. Don’t run . . . yet. We might be able to sneak out without him seeing us. But if I say run, I want you to run this time. Don’t worry about me. This fight is mine, and I won’t have you hurt because of it.”

  His words made it dawn on her that she wasn’t the only one running away from something.

  “Bullshit,” she said forcefully, with much more bravado than she felt. “The fight with the guard in the alley was my fight, but you didn’t stay away. I’m not leaving you.”

  Her expression must have convinced him of her conviction, or maybe they’d run out of time. Either way, he didn’t argue with her.

  He pushed aside the dresser that was blocking the door, then quickly pulled out a drawer. He broke the flimsy wood over his knee, and it splintered into pieces. He picked up the longest and strongest of the shards and handed it to her. “Know how to swing a bat?”

  “It’s been a while, but I think I can manage.”

  He nodded, then opened the door a crack. He motioned for her to go.

  She slipped out the door, walking quickly along the sidewalk. Don’t look back. She trusted Knox, but she wanted to scope out the situation for herself. Was he behind her? That man moved like a ninja, so she couldn’t tell. Surely she would be able to feel his presence though.

  She glanced over her shoulder, just in time to see Knox fly out the door and tackle a man. They hit the ground. He was smaller than Knox, not nearly the behemoth they’d fought last night. In a fair fight, Knox would easily be able to take him. He was already injured, though.

  And size didn’t matter when there were bullets involved.

  Natalie hesitated, watching the fray unfold. Knox punched the guy, and it seemed like he had the upper hand. When the man fumbled around his waistband, though, she saw a flash of silver.

  “Gun!” she yelled. “He’s got a gun!”

  She wouldn’t have even known if Knox had heard her except he grabbed the man’s hand and before she could blink, she heard a distinct crack. The man screamed, holding his mangled hand.

  Knox grabbed the gun and stood, pressing his foot on the guy’s windpipe. “Are you alone?”

 
The man clamped his mouth shut, but his eyes darted around like he was looking for someone. Natalie instinctively stepped closer to Knox.

  Suddenly, the man let out a high-pitched whistle, and Knox stomped on his windpipe. He groaned and rolled to his side in the fetal position.

  Knox grabbed Natalie’s arm and pulled her behind him just in time to confront another attacker who had come from the opposite direction. In the skirmish, Natalie stumbled and fell next to the guy with the crushed windpipe, who was reaching out for Knox’s leg.

  Natalie rose to her knees and swung the makeshift bat down on his arm as hard as she could. He howled in pain and retracted his arm. She tried to get to her feet, but he kicked out, catching her around the ankles. She hit the pavement hard, momentarily stunned, but was jolted back to reality when he wrapped the fleshy fingers of his good hand around her wrist.

  She jerked her arm, trying to break free of his hold and failing. His grip was too tight, his fingers digging into the sensitive tendons on the underside of her wrist.

  She stretched out with her other arm toward her weapon she’d dropped as she fell. She was too close to him to get a proper swing in, so she jabbed the splintered end of the wood into his cheek.

  She’d been aiming for his eye, but she achieved her goal of forcing him to release her wrist. She jumped to her feet, weapon in hand.

  Knox? Is he okay? She had been so busy with her own fight that she hadn’t seen what happened. She whirled around. Where is he?

  Her sudden motion must have broken Knox’s opponent’s concentration because as soon as his eyes landed on Natalie, he stopped momentarily, surprise registering in his eyes.

  “You’re that Farrington Kent bitch,” he said. Then he laughed. Stupid move.

  That cost him the fight as Knox slammed his fist into his temple one final time. The man dropped to the pavement.

  Knox wiped a streak of blood off his chin with the back of his hand. “Are you okay?”

  Natalie nodded.

  The guy on the ground clutched at his wrist and laughed. “Knox, you’re stupider than you look. Once X learns you’re shacking up with this princess—”

  Knox kicked him in the temple, silencing whatever information he was about to share with them. Then Knox frisked him, coming up with a knife and a wad of bills in addition to the silver revolver.