Authors: Carolyn McCray,Elena Gray
Alexis circled him, twirling the nunchucks in front of her, ready to strike or block. He started out jabbing at her. Testing her. Alexis waited patiently. Not rising to the bait. She remembered Dekker’s instructions. Don’t give anything away until the kill shot.
Alexis could hear Dekker’s breath hissing behind her and the slap of fists connecting with flesh. She resisted the urge to look at him.
Instead, she focused on the goon in front of her. While the goon was so busy defending against the nunchucks, Alexis struck out with her right leg, connecting with his knee. It buckled under him, dropping him to the ground. But not for long. He launched up, his fist lashed out, grazing off her cheek. Her teeth scraped against the tender flesh inside. Warmth filled her mouth. She spit out blood mixed with saliva onto the pavement.
She didn’t back down, though. Not only did she hold her ground but she also waved the goon toward her. Taunting him. He threw a right hook, which she easily dodged. She slammed an uppercut into his jaw. Her left fist slashed out, hitting him in the throat. The goon fell to his knees, eyes bulging, clutching his throat and gasping for air.
A loud grunt sounded from behind. Dekker had just blocked a blow from a crowbar. His hand twisted, snapping his assailant’s wrist. Dekker jerked his hand back as he popped the guy’s pinkie out of the socket. The assailant’s scream of pain masked the sound of footsteps coming up behind Alexis. A hand slammed over her mouth and nose. Her new attacker grabbed her around the waist, lifting her off her feet. She clawed at the hand suffocating her, struggling to scream for Dekker’s help. The arm locked her in place, unmoving, and dragging her farther from Dekker.
Legs kicking, Alexis saw Dekker’s enraged expression when he caught sight of her. He ran toward Alexis, his teeth bared in a snarl. Right before she was yanked out of his line of sight, she saw four men descend upon him.
The man let go of her mouth, shoving her forward. But it wasn’t out of kindness. Instead, he slipped a wire around her neck and pulled. Desperate, she got two fingers under the wire before it bit into her flesh. The wire constricted her throat. She flailed as oxygen became scarce. Her eyes bulged, nostrils flared, and her head swam as her vision darkened.
Dekker’s husky voice whispered inside her head. “Fight, dammit … fight.”
Alexis dug deep. She couldn’t die like this. In some filthy lot, wearing this trashy outfit.
With renewed vigor, she lifted her leg, stomping the heel of her boot into her assailant’s foot. She felt the wire loosen. Alexis sucked in a breath as she rammed her head into his nose. He cried out, releasing the wire completely. He stumbled away, with his hand covering his face. Blood spilled out from between his fingers.
Choking for air, Alexis took a step forward, tucked her knee into her chest, and thrust back until her boot slammed into his groin. His nose forgotten, her assailant dropped his hands from his face and doubled over. Each time she dragged air into her lungs, she felt molten lava burning a trail.
Detective Alexis Reed would have left it at that, but in this gauntlet? With these men who were far better trained—and with weapons, no less? She couldn’t take any chances. Taking advantage of his hunched over position. Alexis lifted her leg, hitting him in the chin with the instep of her foot. The force threw him back, his head crashing into the pavement.
Satisfied that he wasn’t getting up anytime soon, Alexis leaned against the arm of a torn-up couch, tentatively touching her fingertips to her raw throat. A shudder racked her body. How close had she come to Nick saying to her corpse that he really did “tell her so?”
There was no time to speculate. A shout sounded in the distance. Pushing off the couch, she made for where she last saw Dekker. Alexis made it around the corner, but no Dekker. Tentatively, she made her way farther into the maze. She followed the debris until the passageway opened into an empty lot. Across the cement was a ramshackle house with a small porch. Peering around a boulder, she surveyed the area.
There was no way to cross unseen. And without cover, she would be a sitting duck. Where in the hell was Dekker? Should she stay hidden? Double back? Or try to make it across?
“Lexie.”
The sound of Dekker’s voice was so soft that Alexis almost didn’t hear it. She squinted, searching for him. To the left of the house, she saw Dekker backed up against a metal cargo hold. He held two fingers to his eyes, and then pointed to Alexis’ right. Shifting her gaze, she spotted two men tucked between a broken fence and a piece of Sheetrock. One held a bat by his side. The other grasped the biggest wrench she had ever seen.
Alexis mouthed to Dekker, “Now what?”
He held up his hand, silently telling her to stay. Alexis watched him pick up a pipe and back away. She waited a breath, and then another. Her legs began to shake from fatigue, but she couldn’t move. She had to stay hidden.
With each breath, she felt the toll all that adrenaline had taken. What exactly was Dekker going to do, and exactly how long was it going to take him to do it?
She shouldn’t have worried, as the sound of metal upon metal rang, filling the air. A giant pile of metal and garbage collapsed, pinning the guy with the wrench under it. His screams were muffled by the mass covering his face.
Dekker’s pipe rocketed out from behind the mattress, clipping the guy with the bat in the shoulder. Alexis heard booted footsteps behind her. Pain shot through her body as she stood. She tried to look defiant, but her limp gave her away as two men strode toward her. One blocked her escape forward, and the other blocked the way back.
The first guy lunged at her. She dove to the ground, rolling on her right shoulder. She screamed as she felt it pop out of the socket. Forcing herself back on her feet, she held her right arm across her chest.
The second guy leveraged kick after kick at her. Blocking with her left arm, she scrambled backward—each movement sending shards of pain through her arm. Finally, she ran out of real estate as she bumped into the porch railing of the house. Looping her good arm over the railing, she tightened her abdomen by pulling her knees up and thrusting her legs at her attacker’s chest, knocking him off his feet.
To her right, the first guy approached. Alexis wobbled. The guy cocked his arm back. Before he could release his punch, Dekker came out of nowhere and rammed his shoulder into the guy’s stomach. Grunting, they both landed hard on the ground. Arms punched as legs kicked. The two rolled on the oily ground. Dekker finally pinned the guy, and with one solid punch, he knocked him out cold.
Dekker swung his leg off the guy and stood. He brushed the dirt off his ripped pants as he walked over to Alexis. He had a gash on his cheek—the blood already dry. His knuckles oozed fresh blood.
A wave of nausea crashed over Alexis as warmth rushed through her body. Dekker caught Alexis before she collapsed at his feet.
But when he bent to scoop her into his arms, she stopped him.
“No. I want to walk out of here. Not with you carrying me.”
He straightened, smiling that smile that made her feel prouder than she had when she’d graduated from the police academy.
However,
walk
might have been an optimistic term. It was more like limp out of there. Dekker looped her left arm over his shoulder and helped her to the steps. Once at the top he twisted the knob, leading her into a darkened room.
“Please tell me we’re done,” she begged as he helped her across the room.
“Almost.”
Alexis groaned. Dekker was going to have to make good on his offer of protecting her now, because she didn’t know how much fight she had left in her.
He opened the door in front of him. Disco lights flashed, the throbbing bass of dance music filled the room. The walking wounded lined one wall. You could tell they had competed based on the number of bruises and teeth missing. One was missing a shirt, and a wide white bandage crisscrossed his rib cage. The guy with the spikes had his right eye swollen shut. That didn’t stop the scantily clad women from fawning all over the fighters, though.
The dance floor itself was filled with dozens of people gyrating to the throbbing music.
“You can’t seriously be expecting us to dance?” she asked, fearful of his answer.
Dekker just smiled and walked them out the side door. They found the guy who registered them when they first got there. He was seated behind another desk.
“Congratulations, Mr. Dekker,” he said, and then spotted Alexis. “And your guest …” It was pretty damned obvious he didn’t expect her to make it through. The man turned to Dekker again. “How would you like your funds dispersed?”
“Just roll them over,” Dekker said as they exited.
He did this regularly? Once was enough. It turned out getting your ass kicked felt like … well, getting your ass kicked.
“Where to?” Dekker asked as he opened the passenger door.
Alexis cradled her arm as she got in. “The nearest hospital.”
“You don’t need a hospital,” he coaxed as he got in and revved the car.
“Dekker, have you taken a good look at me?” Alexis insisted. “I’m one step away from requiring surgery.”
“I told you I’d take care of you, didn’t I?”
That he did. So far, though, being taken care of had resulted in a lot of bruises.
Then he leaned over and kissed her shoulder. “Did that make it any better?”
Damned if it didn’t.
CHAPTER 14
“The studio?” Lexie groaned, as Dekker helped her out of his car.
When she refused to be taken home, he figured that she didn’t want her roommate to see her looking as though a Mack Truck had smacked into her. Dekker had debated taking her to his house. Then he remembered the condition it was in. Yeah, the studio was the better option. At least it had a fully stocked first-aid kit.
And the fact that she only needed a first-aid kit rather than an emergency splenectomy, like the last guy he had taken through the gauntlet, was nothing short of amazing. Of course, he’d stepped in before the final blow, but Lexie should be proud that she even made it that far. Dekker had gone up against Bruce before. And knew the kind of damage his iron fist could do.
Dekker flicked on the lights and locked the door behind them.
“I want to perfect some of those moves of yours,” he said, teasing.
Not that she got it. Lexie’s body stiffened, and her face scrunched into a grimace. “You can’t possibly be serious?”
“Duh.” He felt her relax against him as he led her back to the locker room. “I brought you here to get you cleaned up.”
“Oh.”
Dekker gently helped her down on the bench. As she gingerly inspected her various wounds, he retrieved the first-aid kit. When he returned, Dekker found her leaning back against the wall, her eyes closed. The sight took him back to
his
first fight. Between the fear and adrenaline rush, his body would pretty much give up. He’d slept for days before he could finally bring himself to crawl out of bed. And even then, it was only long enough to eat.
Letting her get some much-deserved rest, Dekker unzipped her boots and set them on the floor. After tugging off her socks, he picked up her foot. His thumb massaged her instep in a slow, circular motion. Lexie stirred, moaning softly. God, what he wouldn’t give to hear her make that sound awake. With him inside of her.
But he stopped himself. She was beat-up and in no shape for the fantasies playing out in his head. His blood still rushed with adrenaline, urging him to fulfill his desire. How could he, though? Even groggy, her features radiated all the hurt she had been through.
Opening the kit, Dekker resolved to shove any other thought aside that didn’t involve getting Lexie on the mend. He pulled out the antiseptic wipes and swiped them over the myriad of cuts and scrapes on her hands. Her eyes fluttered open.
“It’s okay. Just rest.”
He could see Lexie fight it, but slowly her eyes closed again.
Carefully, he cleaned the wounds on her arms. Finally, he worked his way up to her neck. He brushed his fingers over the red welt she wore like a necklace. When Dekker saw Chet grab Lexie from behind and pull her out of sight, he went berserk. The four guys who blocked his path paid the price. One guy was down with a broken arm. The others had a few broken ribs and maybe skull fractures, but they should have known to get out of his way.
White-hot rage had him racing through the course, but somehow Lexie had gotten away from the garrote on her own. When he’d found her crouched down, hiding beside the house, he had to stop himself from tossing the two hundred grand away and running across to her. His only thought had been to sweep her up into his arms. But something in her eyes had stopped him. A fire there. She didn’t need him to treat her like a child. She could handle herself.
It was that dichotomy between her confidence and vulnerability that made him risk so much when he knew so little about her.
Grabbing a clean wipe, he gently cleaned the dirt and blood off her neck. Dekker looked up to find Lexie watching him. No recrimination. No judgment.
“Guess I should have warned you about Chet’s fondness for wire …” he said as she flinched from his ministrations.
Dekker pulled his T-shirt away from his neck, revealing a thin, white scar.
“Got this the first time I went through.”
She put a finger out and traced the scar. Her touch created a line of fire that stung worse than the original injury. Lexie’s hand drifted down his chest. God only knew how badly he wanted her hand to travel further south, but there was only one problem.