Movement behind the fucker had my blood icing in my veins, unadulterated terror freezing me.
Charli stood there, my hockey stick in hand, gore smearing her brow.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
CHARLI
My skull throbbed like someone had whopped me with a hammer. I had no idea how long I had lain in the garage before War found me. And the asshole who’d hurt me was now threatening War—
Fury charging through me, powered by adrenaline that he dared to point a gun at the man I love, I swung the hockey stick with everything in me into the vermin’s skull. A resounding crack followed. The gun went off, the explosion nearly deafening me. War snarled and ducked. Plaster and bits of the newly painted ceiling rained down. The ratbag stumbled then spun to me. Shit! Did he have a brick for a head?
“You’ll pay for that!” he roared, lurching for me. I braced the hockey stick.
“No, you fucking don’t!” War dove for him, and they fell in a tangle of limbs in the hallway. The gun dropped, skating away from them. War rolled over on top now and punched the jerk over and over again, the sound of fists hitting flesh echoing in the corridor. Blood flowed from the thug’s face.
“War!” I grabbed him. “Stop, please, he’s out. The police will be here soon. I already called 911.”
War grabbed the cretin by one wrist and dragged him to the garage. Something fell from the ass’s back pocket and glinted dully on the floor. War’s titanium sports watch, which I’d last seen on the coffee table in the living room. That thing cost a shitload of money, I knew because my stepbrother had one like it. I picked it up and pushed it into my pocket.
War got the ropes from the shelf in the garage and bound the jerk, tying his hands and feet behind his back in an impressive hogtie for a city boy.
The cretin groaned, lifted his head, blood dripping from his nose.
“You’ll regret ever coming after us!” War bit out, chest heaving. He looked like he would kill the cur.
“Not after her, afteryou,” he grunted. “I know the truth,killer.” He spat out blood. “If you don’t want this in the papers, whether you killed him or not, think of the sensation, the money I’d get for this story, so—”
War kicked him in the head, and the jerk passed out. He stood over the guy, breathing harshly. Jaw carved in stone, he lifted his gaze to where I stood in the doorway, hockey stick still clutched to my chest. He crossed to me and dragged me into his arms, holding me tightly.
“The ass,” I rasped as nausea tracked up my throat, the pain in my skull amping up.
War took the hockey stick and gently turned me to the door. “Go sit down. You look like you’ll fall over. I’ll keep watch here.”
“I’m not leaving you alone with that crud-spawn.”
Wailing sirens broke the quiet. War set the stick aside, pulled the truck keys from his jeans pocket, and hurried outside to open the gates. Moments later, two cops, one tall and brawny and another on the slender side, strode down the driveway since War’s truck blocked the entrance.
Everything became a blur as the cops questioned War. His words filtered to me, “…forgot my cell phone, came back for it…found my girlfriend lying unconscious in the garage, bleeding from a head wound…”
My head pounded as if knives were digging into it. Pain escalated with a vengeance as my adrenaline flatlined. Feeling as if I would crumble, I leaned against the doorframe and gingerly touched my aching forehead, then rubbed the back of my head, gently palpating the golf ball size lump there, too—shit! I winced. It hurt like hell. A deep chill settled in me, and I shuddered.
One of the uniforms, Walter, snorted at the way War had tied up the jackass. “Good job,” he said, cutting the rope away to handcuff him.
War and the other cop crossed to me. War drew me against him as the cop took my statement, then said, “We’ll call an ambulance—”
“No, no, I’m okay. War will take me to the doctor.”
Frowning, the lanky cop nodded. They did a walk-through of the house while we waited in the living room.
Unsteady on my feet, my head spinning like it would leave my neck, I stumbled to the couch and dropped down, shutting my eyes, just wanting the pain gone.
I don’t know how much time passed when someone picked me up. “C’mon, baby, let’s get you to the doc…”
* * *
The next hour at the emergency room in Santa Cruz passed in a haze, being examined and treated. Something was said about me staying overnight, but I refused, so the doc released me into War’s care. We made it back to the house by late noon.
War settled me on the couch. “No sleeping,” he gently admonished when I shut my eyes.
