It takes a breath before I feel my body tense and go into instinctive “Ima kick your ass to hell mode.” My muscles lock up, my arms come up, and I’m landing a kick to the asshole’s groin, followed by a swift roundhouse kick straight out of a Mortal Combat movie before lunging and slamming out with a curled palm, nailing the freak straight in the nose.
I can hardly see, but that’s okay. I am completely comfortable in the dark, and the man is huge enough that I can see him better. His groan is music to my ears, and I celebrate it before he comes at me low and tackles me to the floor, my breath knocked from me in a rush.
The towel slips loose, but I ignore it, not having the luxury of modesty as hands wrap around my throat and start squeezing.
I have choices here, and once again, thank God for my big brother. The guy is a nut, but he’s taught me well. “When faced with a larger opponent, never, ever waste energy on struggling. It will get you killed, Evie,” I remember him saying. “Go for weak spots, ignore the fear and just focus on the mission.”
Mission status critical!
He’s strong, and it feels like my windpipe is being crushed when he starts squeezing, putting all his weight into it. I don’t struggle, though the urge is almost overwhelming. No, I go calm, as I guestimate his soft spots and start striking.
The one to his balls has his hands loosening a little; the fist to his gut blows foul breath at me; and the fingernail to his eyeball gives me enough opportunity to scoot back a little, bring up my legs and kicking out.
He flops back, and I can breathe again, but it’s by no means over. This guy means business. I can scream my head off now, so I do and almost lose consciousness when that gets me a hammer to the face.
“Bitch.”
“Fuck you! HELP ME!” I screech, as my brain wheezes and sputters.
I’m back on my feet in seconds and manage to nail the sucker with a heel to the nose just as he crouches again to come at me low. The crunch I hear as I spin and leap back, falling and rolling to the other side of the bed, makes me whoop, and I’m pretty sure I’m in deep shit when suddenly I hear pounding at my door.
“Manny! Call the cops.”
The shadow man, behemoth thing jerks to a halt and spins so fast I almost miss him when he flies at me again, coldcocking me with a bitch slap before rushing into the bathroom.
The shattering of glass sounds like muted tinkling bells—that last shot cleaned my clock—and I slump to the floor, just as light flares and both Manny and Merle come running in.
“Evie?”
“Bathroom,” I gasp, my stomach roiling.
He runs off, waddling for all he’s worth, and I hear a curse as Merle falls beside me and grabs my hand, her shocked gasp letting me know I look like hell.
I feel it too and clench my teeth at the pain shooting through my skull as a blatant concussion starts becoming apparent.
“Oh, Evie!”
“Gone. The window,” Manny gasps, running back in.
I should be mortified at my nudity. I so would be too, but I’m unable to even move as two of Manny stand over me, his big body trembling before I feel Merle yank the bedspread to drape over me.
Darn it. This will so not make a great case to Jericho.
If he finds out…
Chapter Two
Blaze
My hangover feels like two demons taking a crap on my brain as the pounding gets louder, so loud that I finally realize it’s not just my head and someone is at the door.
“Blaze, you fucking ass! Open the goddamn door!”
I groan out loud and roll to my feet, my stomach pitching wildly as I stagger out of my bedroom, down the stairs, and rip the door open, my face telling my story as I glare at Jericho Evans with enough anger to flay a lesser man.
“Christ! It’s Saturday, you fucking bitch.”
Jericho doesn’t bother to say so much as a thank you for opening the door, or sorry for interrupting the death march I was hoping for in lieu of waking with my head about to crack open; he just storms past me, into the house, and stomps to the kitchen, his body vibrating with tension.
My head still hurts, but I ignore it as I follow him, my senses going on high alert the moment I see his body language and take in the worry in his expression.
“Cleo okay?”
He spins away from the window just as I hit the table, and then he starts cursing so hard I want to rage until I see his shoulders droop and the glaze of his eyes.
He’s emotional, his eyes are misty, and the man looks ready to have a nervous breakdown.
“Someone attacked my sister, Evie, last night. I was on the phone with her while some fuck was creeping around in her apartment! He almost killed her.”
I vaguely remember something about his sister, and I have a shoddy picture of a dark haired, blue-eyed woman, who looked like a rich, hippy hipster, running into the church, but that’s all.
I’ve known about her for years, we all have—since Jericho told us all about her once and never spoke of her again. The man is emotionless, or was until Cleo sunk her little claws into him.
“She okay?”
“No! My brother-in-law called me at five this morning when he happened to notice her name on some idiot’s desk and got the story from him. She was attacked last night—almost strangled to death! Her neighbors found her concussed on her bedroom floor and called the cops,” he says as he seethes.
“She didn’t—?”
“Call me? No, she didn’t because her little ass wouldn’t want me to know about this since I’ve been riding her to move to Mayberry. She only answered her phone on the tenth attempt I made to contact her, and then promptly warned me not to even start. The little shit’s decided that she’s not in the mood for ‘overprotective mode’ and threatened to move to New York if I so much as started in on her. I didn’t want to argue, not when she’s fragile. Plus, Cleo threatened to cut me if I upset her.”
I grunt, thinking back on some of the mean-ass conversations I’ve overheard him have with his sister in the past. Jericho…he takes this whole big brother thing to another level. And he takes Cleo very seriously, too. I want to laugh at the idea that he’s handed over his nuts to a dwarf with about as much power as a limpet, but I’ve been on Cleo’s bad side and she’s a mean woman when annoyed.
“Okay?”
He sighs and seems to deflate in on himself, a true accomplishment for the big bastard, and I feel myself realizing what he’s about to ask me a little before he looks up at me and smiles.
“You owe me a favor.”
“No.”
I already know what he wants since he’s as predictable as a flame to an explosive charge, and I back up, opening the fridge to grab water and a banana.
“You owe me, Blaze. I need someone to get to the city and make sure Evie’s okay, and since she convinced Cleo to cut my balls off before I can do a thing, I need you to do this.”
“No. Call Lex or King. Hey, I heard him flirting with her. He’d jump at the chance,” I mutter.
I won’t. I do not want to be stuck babysitting after coming off a month-long job just two days ago. I need a vacation after nonstop work and jobs that have been kicking my ass with boredom. Funny thing about that shit, it tires you out a hell of a lot more than actual work.
Plus, well, the guys know I don’t do female jobs, and I won’t—ever. I don’t want to be around them for longer than it takes to fuck, and hey, if that sounds cold, it’s probably because it is.
I don’t care too much though, because I’d rather be cold and up front about what I want than to let myself fall into another trap like the crap I was in before.
It took me a long time to get over the anguish and betrayal I felt, and as far as I can tell, it serves me better to be this way than it ever has in the past.
“Come on, Blaze. We all know King is just dying to get with a woman, anyone who’ll eat up his charm and not notice how unavailable he is. He doesn’t want to be alone anymore, and I can’t ris
k Evie falling for the man when he’d just end up making her miserable.”
“And you think I’d be better?” I snort, downing water in a long swallow to have something to do with my mouth.
Jericho actually laughs at that and shakes his head.
“I know you. You’ll tell her right off the bat to keep her distance, and I can trust you with her. She’ll be protected in every way, physically and emotionally, with a cold bastard like you.”
Burn.
“Still not doing it. I was on for Storm’s mess, and then yours while still holding down jobs and investigating Lenny’s ‘Angel.’ I’m slated for downtime, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do. If you don’t want King, get Lex to do it.”
“That man whore? Come on, Blaze, he chases tail worse than a dog sniffing at its own ass. I can’t trust him around Evie!”
“She’s a big girl, Jericho,” I say with a snort, my memory of meeting her spotty since King and I were toast at the time.
“From what I remember, the girl is on the plump side and not at all Lex’s speed.”
“Stop being a fucking prick! She’s not fat, you idiot, she’s curvy.”
“Whatever. It doesn’t make sense to argue this since I’m not doing it,” I huff, peeling the banana as Jericho growls and glares at me darkly.
As one of my guys, and the man who’s managed to have my back in all-out combat, I feel like hell turning him down, but no way, no how am I giving up the two weeks I have to go babysit a fat chick with Jericho’s DNA.
Chances are she’s more temperamental, and hell, I just don’t want to. I want two weeks of relaxation, sex with a different woman every night, and a chance to forget that the anniversary is coming up soon.
“You really going to make me do this, Blaze? Really?” he asks, dropping the anger to get serious.
This look on him means doom, plain and simple, and I feel my teeth clench with the need to deck him.
“Don’t, Jericho. The code shouldn’t be used so easily,” I warn.
“Easily? Some fuck just attacked my little sister and I have two choices here! I can go out there and have Cleo hissing at me while fighting a constant battle with Evie because she’s too hardheaded to listen to sense, or I can do the only thing available and make sure she’s protected.”
“From a burglar? Come on, man, send Gus over to put in an alarm system and make sure she’s more vigilant.”
“It wasn’t a goddamn burglar, motherfucker. This guy waited for her to drink a glass of wine, have a bath, and finish talking to me. Then he just attacked. According to the detectives I spoke to, they are dead-sure he meant to just kill her.”
Okay.
“A fashion designer who lives alone has no enemies. Honestly? Come on, Jericho. What would be the motive? From what Cleo blabbers about the woman, she’s about as boring as a nun and lives for work.”
“Exactly, asshole. Evie works ten- to twelve-hour days and spends all her time with her business partner.”
“So look into her.”
“Already have. She’s clean. Kimber is her best friend. She spent all last year eating Ramen noodles with Evie while they got their business up and running. She was over there the moment Evie called her, her thirty-two in her palm. She volunteers at rescue shelters in her spare time for God’s sake and has a following on one of her social media sites to create awareness about the plight of the elderly and state pensions.”
Yikes. The sentiment is cute and all, but give me a chick that’s free from dog hair, and I’m there. I don’t count my dog, Batshit, since the poor guy lost all his hair from stress and is as bald as a cue ball. He’s the ugliest mutt alive. Picture one of those weird cats without hair only in canine form and you’ve got Batshit.
He also happens to have earned his name, but I digress.
“Okay. So just bring her here. Look man, I’m gonna be dead honest with you here. I’m burned out and too messed up to babysit some spoiled little princess who thinks clothes are the only thing that matters. I’m also not crazy about going into the city just after I got the house done, finally.”
I moved from the city, a place I hate with all the people and cramped spaces and traffic, to Mayberry…where I’ve built my home with my own hands and made myself a little paradise the same as Storm and Jericho have.
I may not like some of the folks living around here, but I love my land, my home, and the freedom the space gives me—freedom I haven’t had with constant work and trying to find this elusive shooter we’ve been tracking for so long.
“I’m calling in that favor, Blaze.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah, shit. I know you don’t like it, and honestly, right now I don’t give a damn. I have a bad feeling about this. Evie is the only blood I have left, the only blood that counts to me besides Cleo and you guys. I can’t just leave her to face this alone. She’s stubborn and intractable—”
“Gee, wonder where she gets that from.”
“But she’s also just a woman who needs protecting. I haven’t been there for her all that much, not like I wanted to be. And I won’t lie and tell you this will be easy. As I said, she doesn’t give in easy. She isn’t taking any of this seriously. Like you, she believes it was some meth-head, looking to score off someone; some guy who just lost his shit. I am begging you, do this for me. She’s all I have left, and while I would go there myself, I also can’t leave Cleo so soon. Evie, she’s…”
Difficult, I fill in, glaring at his determined ass.
“If I do this, the slate is clean, motherfucker. No more coding me on the same shit anymore. I’ll go there, keep an eye on her, and make sure I grab the perp since the cops can’t find their own asshole without medical assistance. When I’m done—”
“I’ll owe you.”
My face splits in a grin, and I feel my eyes sparkle as Jericho gives me the upper hand.
“Good. You gonna call princess, or should I just show up?”
“Eh, I think Evie should be surprised, don’t you?”
Coward.
Chapter Three
Evaline
My face feels like a side of beef that just went ten rounds with a cyborg, and my freaking body is no better, as I shuffle around my apartment, checking windows for the hundredth time.
I’ve been home a good day now after the attack and five hours in a hospital bed, and it still freaks me out when the sun sets. For someone like me, who has loved the dark and all the secrets it had to offer, it galls me to admit that I am terrified to turn so much as one light off right now.
My apartment is ablaze with light and my damn power bill will likely reflect that, but I don’t care. The one thing that I can’t shake is the certainty that if not for Manny and Merle responding so quickly, I would be dead.
Sure, I kicked that punk’s ass but good, but I am in no way convinced that was all he had in store for me. That slap flattened me, and I was done for. If not for his running away…
I still shiver just recalling the malice I felt when he wrapped his hands around my throat. Poor Jericho just about had a fit when he called me, but hey, it is what it is right now.
His half-sister—the woman he discovered our father had as a result of an affair—is married to a cop, and most likely that little shit got back to him like a lapdog begging for treats.
You’re wondering why I refer to her as his sister? I met her once, and she’s a straight-up bitch I wouldn’t spit on if she was on fire and screaming for help. That woman is no sister of mine.
Whatever. Anyway, I’m back home and shivering in my boots right now, regretting sending Kimber home along with her gun and that violent attitude that she has toward my attacker. She just about told the cops that she was intending to stay with me and wait for the animal to try again, whereupon she would practice her God-given right and shoot the ass so full he’d be seeping tissue—from his groin.
That’s my Kimber for you. She’s small, mean as a snake when her friends are threatened, and so ready to
just shoot anyone who breathes my way that I had to stay her hand when one of the detectives glared at me.
Violent.
My phone rings, startling me, and I scream a little before grabbing my chest and gasping in air to still the pounding of my heart.
“Hello?”
“You okay? You sure I can’t come over there? I swear to high heaven, Evie, this blows! You know I wouldn’t mind if you stayed over here with me and Sammy.”
“Kimber, honestly, I appreciate it, and tell Sammy I say thanks, but you guys do not have to worry about me, okay? I am fine. I have my mace, a Taser, and Jericho on speed dial.”
She snorts at that—it’s no secret that if Kimber were into men, she’d be all over my brother like a rash—and makes an mmm sound before sighing.
“Babe, you have to be more careful, you know. You weren’t exactly steady on your feet when you got home on Friday, and you pay about as much attention to your surroundings as I do to men.”
I snort right back at her and fall onto the couch with a huff. I hate the fact that I’m about to stretch the conversation, not because I want to, but because I’m too scared to be alone right now, even if she is a mile away and on the phone with me.
Before last night, I would have never thought twice about shutting off all the lights and just chilling with the TV on and a bottle of wine. Now, I can’t handle the thought of impairing my judgement that way, or breaking my super-aware state with sound.
I’m terrified, plain and simple, and if I wasn’t so stubborn, I’d have been at Jericho and Cleo’s in a heartbeat. It’s a sad fact that I would be their third wheel, unabashedly, if not for my stubbornness.
The only reason I’m not there right now is because I know that I’d never leave if I did go. I am that scared and certain that Jericho and his weird feelings aren’t just paranoia and that the man I fought off wanted to kill me. Not for money, jewelry, or some gross sexual reason but because he just wanted me dead.
That is sobering, terrifying, and just plain unthinkable.
“Evie?”
“Uh, oh sorry,” I mutter, sighing and pulling my eyes away from the door, the windows, the corner, everywhere they’ve been in the last forty seconds. “I know, Kimber, and you’re right. I locked the doors, set the deadbolt, put those potted plants you got me all over by the windows, and the cops said they’d send someone around to drive by every hour. I’ll be fine.”
THE WATCHERS: 6 Military Romance Bundle Page 31
