For the Fight
Page 18
“That’s it,” he said, his mouth coming back to her neck, to the sensitive place just below her ear. “Come for me, Miss Banfield.”
“How do you know my—” she began, but the question ended on a gasp. And honestly, in that second she didn’t care, couldn’t care, because she was doing just as he’d told her. She was coming, coming absolutely apart beneath his fingers, in quakes and shivers and sparks that rolled in waves through her body and down to the tips of her toes and fingers.
Finally, eventually, she came up for air, and she met the man’s gaze in the moonlight.
He was doing it again – looking at her with such intensity. But then, he smiled. A self-satisfied smile that he thoroughly deserved – and Beth smiled right back.
“More,” she whispered again, her hands falling to the front of his jeans.
But then, suddenly, the lights came on.
And someone – someone else – started a slow, steady round of applause.
Damon Nyhuis jerked his hand out of Miss Banfield’s underwear, shoved her skirt down and for one, way too brief moment, met her gaze.
She glared at him in frozen, wide-eyed shock and betrayal – as if he had anything to do with the clusterfuck they were both now in. Or were probably in.
Because he couldn’t think of one good reason why someone would be in his house. But he could think of a lot – a lot – of bad reasons. Of very, very bad reasons.
He turned around, doing his best to keep Miss Banfield shielded behind him.
In front of him, standing not even five metres away in front of his narrow staircase, were four men he knew. Only one he knew by name. Garth Gaff, the Notechi outlaw motorcycle club’s sergeant-at-arms. The other three were totally interchangeable Notechi thug prospects, all desperate to prove their loyalty to the Notechi so they could get ‘patched’ and have the supposed honour of wearing the club colours.
“What do you need, Garth?” Damon said meeting Gaff’s gaze, hard and steady. He was going to play the role he’d been so successfully playing these past two years: A loyal Notechi patch member who’d proven his allegiance time and time again – with his fists, his willingness to take risks for the club, and with the intel he’d provided to the top of the Notechi hierarchy. The fact the intel he’d provided had been strategically and exclusively provided by Elite SWAT – who Damon really worked for as part of an undercover operation – had never been suspected.
In fact, not once in the past two years had Damon felt anyone thought he was anything but the role he’d become so good at playing.
Probably because he’d had quite a lot of experience being a shithead before he’d joined the police, so he knew how criminals behaved. He hadn’t had to do a lot of acting, he’d just had to pretend he was seventeen years old again and spending his weekends stealing cars.
But clearly – he’d been lax. He’d fucked up.
Because no way was Gaff here with his thugs for a chat. Or to ask him to sort something out for him. Or to fix something.
They were here to hurt him.
Probably to kill him.
And so, he needed to get his Year 12 calculus teacher out of here. Now.
Gaff crossed his arms, his steroid-enhanced biceps bulging in a cartoonish way. “I need you to stop lying to me, Crawls,” he said. “Pretty simple, really.”
Gaff said his fake name easily, without hesitation.
That was something. They didn’t know exactly who he was.
But they suspected something, clearly. The small foyer of his townhouse was thick with tension and anticipation. The thugs were itching to please Gaff, and were simply waiting for permission to come at him.
“I’ve never lied to you,” Damon lied. “But we can talk about whatever bullshit you think you know. Just let me get this slut out of here.”
He felt Miss Banfield flinch behind him, but he couldn’t do a thing to reassure her he didn’t mean it – because how to explain? He had to speak the shithead language. He had to do everything he could to make Gaff believe he remained loyal to the Notechi.
“No,” Gaff said. “She stays.”
“Why?”
Behind him, he could hear Miss Banfield taking what he guessed were supposed to be calming breaths. But he could feel her entire body thrum with fear.
He was such a fucking idiot. He’d been so caught up in his teenage fantasy come true he’d done the unforgivable for someone working in deep cover. He’d dropped his guard. Completely.
He’d walked straight into an ambush, and dragged an innocent woman with him.
“I know that type,” Gaff said. “Goody two-shoes. Fuck knows why she’s with you. She’ll call the cops.”
“I won’t,” a soft yet strong voice said behind Damon.
He closed his eyes briefly. Fuck. She needed to be invisible. Totally invisible to these pieces of scum.
“Really?” Gaff said, his interest clearly piqued. He took a couple of steps towards Damon. “Why should I believe that?”
Damon reached behind him, but he was too slow and Miss Banfield slipped past his arm to stand by his side. What was she doing?
“Because I don’t lie,” she said. She stood there, with her shirt still untucked, but her chin high. Her dark brown hair cascaded down the shoulders she held straight, and she was steady on her shiny black stiletto heels.
Gaff barked out a laugh. Predictably, the thugs joined in. “Really, sugar? You expect me to take you on your word?”
“I don’t lie,” she repeated. Firmly.
Gaff shook his head. “What’s your name?”
She paused, as if working out if she should tell the truth. “Beth,” she said, eventually.
She’d been honest, Damon realised, her first name familiar even though he’d long forgotten it.
“So, Beth,” Gaff said. “You’d just leave and not worry about lover boy here?”
She shrugged. “I met him less than an hour ago.”
“Harsh,” Gaff said, looking at Damon now. “Especially since she seemed to really like you a couple of minutes ago.”
“She doesn’t know me,” Damon said, ignoring Gaff’s leer. “I’m nothing to her. She just wants to get out of here. Let her go.”
Gaff didn’t laugh this time, but he did smile. A sickly-sweet facsimile of a smile. “Oh, I get it,” he said. “You like her.” Abruptly he turned back to the thugs. “She comes with us,” he ordered. “Leverage.”
Damon glanced at Miss Banfield – at Beth. She’d barely moved, and her posture remained perfect. Her cheeks, however, had gone pale.
Comes with us?
“What the fuck’s going on?” Damon demanded, playing the role of the offended. “Tell me what shit you’ve been told. Because none of it’s true. You’re my brother, man,” he said. “I swear.”
But Gaff didn’t give a shit what he was saying.
The four men advanced on him and the woman beside him.
Two he could’ve taken. Three, at a stretch. These guys were all brawn, no brains. No training, no skills. He was the tallest, strongest, most skilled fighter in the room.
But four of them …
It didn’t matter. He had to try – there was no other choice.
His hands formed into fists, and he was seconds from going for the knife he kept concealed in his left boot.
But then Gaff reached for the small of his back, and the next moment the Notechi sergeant-at-arms was pointing a Glock at Beth’s forehead.
Want to find out what happens next? You can read Out Run the Night (Elite SWAT Book Two) now!
Acknowledgments
For the Fight is my tenth book, but my first romantic suspense, and my first self-published novel. Writing and publishing Lou and Nate’s story has been a steep learning curve, and wouldn’t have been possible without a lot of help and support.
Thank you to Linley Maroney, for leaping together with me on this new self-publishing adventure. It is so much better sharing this with you!
Thank you
also to Rachael Johns for giving me the most public of deadlines (The West Coast Fiction Festival), and for all our Voxer conversations.
I’d also like to thank my editor, LaVerne Clark, who squeezed my edits in so I could meet Rach’s public deadline! I really appreciate it.
And lastly, thank you to my incredibly supportive family, who really listen when I ramble on about my books and support me every step of the way. Whether with brainstorming, babysitting, a Mac I can format books with (thanks Annie!), or simply asking me how the book is going - I couldn’t do this without you.
About the Author
www.leah-ashton.com
RITA® Award-winning author Leah Ashton writes fast-paced, sexy romantic suspense and smart, modern contemporary romance. All her books feature strong heroines, deliciously heroic heroes and swoon worthy happily ever afters.
Leah lives in Perth, Western Australia with her gorgeous husband, two amazing daughters and the best intentions to meal plan and have an effortlessly tidy home. When she’s not writing, Leah loves all day breakfast, rambling conversations and laughing until she cries. She really hates cucumber. And scary movies.
Also by Leah Ashton
Elite SWAT Series
Books can be read in any order
For the Fight
Out Run the Night
Danger in Trust
Beneath the Fear
Hold True
Explosive (prequel novella)
Contemporary Romance
Note: Unlike my romantic suspense novels, all my contemporary romances are “closed door” love scenes, except for Nine Month Countdown.
Secrets & Speed Dating
A Girl Less Ordinary
Why Resist a Rebel?
Beware of the Boss
Nine Month Countdown (Molyneux Sisters #1)
The Billionaire from her Past (Molyneux Sisters #2)
Behind the Billionaire’s Guarded Heart (Molyneux Sisters #3)
The Prince’s Fake Fiancee (Vela Ada #1)
His Pregnant Christmas Princess (Vela Ada #2)
Mining for Love (trade anthology of the Molyneux Sisters)