Hard to Fight

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Hard to Fight Page 8

by Bella Jewel


  I tilt my head to the side. “Victim?”

  “Yeah, you could ask for his help or pretend you’re in danger. If that’s too much, you could do something as simple as follow him to a bar and act drunk, stumble about, make a scene, see if he’ll help you. Find a way back to his place with him. Anything to get him away from people. Then you call it in and let the cops ambush him. Done.”

  It’s not a bad idea. In fact, I’m kicking myself I didn’t think of it earlier. I don’t need the guys to help me bring him in, I just need to take him to a place where I can hold him long enough to bring the cops to him.

  “You’re a legend, Vance.”

  He grins at me. “Don’t I know it.”

  I go to answer but am cut off by the sounds of someone knocking. We both turn and see Don standing at the door. Vance gets up and opens it, letting him in.

  “Jesus, Gracie, what happened to your eye?”

  “Terry.”

  His jaw ticks, he never likes us getting hurt. Unfortunately, like police officers or any officers of the law, that’s a risk we take. “You okay?”

  I nod. “Yeah.”

  “How’s the big case going?”

  “Good.”

  “That’s good. I have another small one for you, if you’re up for it. Julio and Vance are full.”

  “Yeah, send it over.”

  “Good.” He turns to the door. “I’m out for the remainder of the week. I want progress reports from the both of you when I return.”

  “On it,” we both say.

  When he’s gone, I turn back to Vance. “I should go and get some work done.”

  He flashes me a smile. “Meet me for lunch?”

  “It’s a date.”

  Turns out my day isn’t going as bad as I first thought.

  * * *

  By the end of my workday, my head is pounding again and I’m ready for bed. Lunch with Vance was great, as always. We found a Mexican shop nearby and ordered tacos, then we got ice cream on our way home. It was nice to have a break, to take a moment to think about something different. Now it’s home time. I pack up my desk with enthusiasm, thinking of my bath and how good it’ll feel to sink back into it.

  I rush my good-byes as I charge out the door to my car. The entire drive home, I think about anything but Raide. I have to do my job. I have to prove myself. I can’t think about how amazing it felt to have his mouth on mine. I can’t imagine it happening again. I’ve worked most of my teenage life as well as long into my twenties for this job, I can’t let something as minor as a crush ruin that.

  Raide is a bad man. I can’t forget that.

  I arrive home in record time. I find a parking spot down the street and rush up to my front door, grateful to have finally made it. The next two hours are spent eating Chinese food and lounging back in a hot, soapy bath. Then the next two after that are spent talking to Kady on the phone. She’s on board with my drunken-woman-in-distress plan and thinks that this weekend is the time to do it. But I can’t proceed with an ugly black eye.

  “I don’t know if I’m up for it this weekend,” I admit. “I’m so tired and it means following him to try and pinpoint his location.”

  “Don’t be a slacker,” she cries. “Come on, Gracie.”

  “Let’s go out Friday night, just for fun. We’ll think about him Saturday. Please, Kady?”

  She sighs. “Okay, fine, you’ve got me. Come here first, and I’ll do your hair and makeup, we’ll hit Jackson’s Bar and order some dinner, then we’ll hit the clubs.”

  “Sounds awesome, but I’ll do my own makeup.”

  “Hey!” she snaps. “I am very good at hair and makeup.”

  “Kady, honey, last time you did my makeup, I got confused for a cross-dresser.”

  She giggles. “That was the chunky black boots you wore—you can’t blame me for that.”

  Laughing, I lounge back into my sofa and sigh. “I need this break, but after it, I hope I can finally bring him in. I’m not sure how much more of Raide I can take.”

  “Is he that intense? Tell me, tell me,” she breathes.

  “He’s that intense. Did I tell you he was at my house last night?”

  Silence. Then, “Say what?”

  “It’s not like that. He knew where I lived and wanted to, ah—” Well, shit, I can’t tell her he wanted to see me again because we kissed. “—to see if I was okay. He saw me with Terry at a bar.” Well done, the perfect lie.

  “How did he know where you lived?” she questions.

  “He, ah, followed me home.”

  “Oh my God, Gracie, that’s dangerous.”

  I snort. “It is not. He’ll go to jail when I catch him.”

  “Yeah, he will, but then he’ll get out of jail—”

  “You’re thinking too much about it, it’s fine.”

  “It’s not fine. Maybe he’s a psycho killer and he’ll want revenge.”

  “He’s not a killer,” I scoff.

  “Isn’t that what he’s being charged with?”

  I sigh and drop my head back. “Kady, can we talk about something else?”

  I can nearly see the look on her face. Disgust. Horror. Disappointment. Whatever, she’s not the one doing the job. I am.

  “Fine, but when they find your chopped-up corpse, don’t blame me.”

  I laugh softly. “I can hardly blame you if I’m a chopped-up corpse.”

  “Not funny.”

  I bite back another laugh. “I’m going to bed, call me tomorrow.”

  “I will, keep your windows locked.”

  Rolling my eyes I hang up.

  But deep down, I wonder if she’s right. How much danger am I in?

  Chapter Twelve

  I’m buzzed and desperately trying to find a quiet spot where I can make a call and track Kady down. It’s Friday night, and we’ve been out for three hours, hoping Raide would show at one of his favorite local clubs. No such luck. After giving up hope of finding him tonight, I nursed two martinis while Kady got her groove on on the dance floor. But it’s been an exhausting week, and like the granny I am, I have decided it’s time for home and bed.

  But I can’t leave Kady here alone, so I need to find her first.

  I didn’t plan on drinking much tonight since I needed to stay sharp, but the stress of my job lately and my disappointment at not finding Raide called for it. I manage to find a quiet spot and press my body against a brick wall and start scrolling through my phone to find Kady’s number.

  “Well, hello there.”

  I lift my head to see a young man standing, smoke hanging from his lips. He looks pervy, and quite frankly, I’ve had enough of them tonight. “Go away,” I mutter, focusing back on the phone.

  “That ain’t no way to talk to a man,” he says, stepping closer. “I was just sayin’ hello.”

  I shoot him an angry glare and push off the wall. “I’m not interested, perv. Now, move.”

  I try to step past him but he lashes out, curling his arm around my waist and hauling me back against the wall. “What did you call me?”

  “Let me go,” I growl.

  “I said—” He lifts me off the wall and slams me back again. “—what did you call me?”

  “You just made a mistake.” I lift my knee, hitting him in the balls.

  He screams and drops to his knees.

  I lift my leg, not very gracefully, and plant my heel in his chest, kicking him backwards.

  Damned bastard is quick, or maybe I’m too slow, because he manages to wrap his fingers around my ankle. He takes me with him and my body flies down to the ground at rapid speed.

  I land on the pavement with a thud and cry out as my ankle twists beneath me. “Jesus!” I cry.

  “You stupid bitch!” he roars, trying to flip me over.

  Suddenly his entire weight is gone and I’m left staring up at nothing. I blink and my eyes scan the lot, to see Raide, of all people, launching the man through the darkness until he slams into a nearby car. He cries ou
t in pain, and Raide, in all his gorgeous glory, prowls over, lifting him by his shirt and launching him again. Damn.

  “Get the fuck out of here!” he bellows. “You touch her again, I’ll kill you.”

  I shudder and stare as the man scrambles away and Raide turns, pinning me with a glare. I flinch, and I would scurry backwards but my ankle is throbbing. I watch in fascination as Raide comes toward me, his strides determined, his body wound up tight.

  I pull out my sass as he looms over me, looking pissed. “Anyone would think you’re following me,” I smirk.

  “Lucky for you I was. Get up,” he orders.

  Wait, what? He was following me? How the tables have been turned.

  “You were following me?” I squeak.

  “Yeah, went to your house to get that drink I earned and saw you leaving. Followed you. You owe me a drink.”

  Oh. Wow. “That’s creepy and sexy all at the same time.”

  He sighs. “Get up.”

  “Can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  I lift my leg, shoving my ankle toward him. I cry out as I do and quickly let it fall back down. “My ankle is twisted.”

  “Jesus,” he mutters, leaning down and scooping me up into his arms. “You always so much trouble?”

  I laugh. “Yes, sir, I am.”

  He mumbles something under his breath and carries me out of the parking lot.

  “Hey, whoa, hold up,” I say, squirming in his arms. “My friend is back there.”

  “You can call her when you’re home.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you. Let me go and I’ll find her.”

  “Fine.”

  He lets me go, and the moment I land on my ankle, I stumble forward. He catches me before I fall and then scoops me back up again. “Exactly,” he rasps. “You’ve been drinking, you’ve got a twisted ankle, and there ain’t no way you’re navigating through that club.”

  I ponder the irony of my plan to play the helpless drunken female coming true for real.

  “Fine, then I’ll call her and wait out here.”

  “Takin’ you home.”

  I don’t want him to take me home. I want him to take me where he lives so I can see, so I can bring him in when I’m in physical shape to do it.

  “I don’t, ah, I can’t go home.”

  He stares down at me with narrowed eyes. “Why not?”

  “Because, ah, my parents were due to arrive tonight. I just wanted one night away from them before I had to endure their crap. I was staying with Kady but … well … she got distracted by a man with a mega—”

  He growls. “I get the point. Fuck me, you need ice on that ankle.”

  I smile slyly. “Then take me to your house.”

  Cool, real cool.

  He stares at me again, his jaw tight. It’s the moment of truth. If he suspects me at all, he won’t take me to his house. “Fine, I’ll take you there while you call your friend.”

  “Fun times,” I say.

  It doesn’t skip my notice that he drives the back roads home in a car that I’ve never seen him in before. He pulls up at a massive house that has me gasping. It’s huge. It’s a white three-story mansion. It’s beautiful, surrounded by pristine gardens and a gorgeous stone path leading right to the front patio. Rich people’s house. I didn’t pick Raide as a rich man.

  “This is your house?” I cry.

  “No, it’s my friend’s. He’s out of town, letting me stay.”

  Damn.

  “How long are you staying?”

  “A few weeks.”

  He gets out of the car and comes around to my door, opening it. He lifts me into his arms and I allow myself a moment to let myself drown in how amazing that feels. He’s muscled and strong, and he smells divine.

  “You smell really good,” I murmur, pressing my nose to his chest.

  “You’re drunk.”

  “That doesn’t mean you don’t smell good.”

  In truth, my buzz is fading, but he doesn’t need to know that yet.

  I hiccup and giggle drunkenly as he carries me inside. I quickly stop laughing when I set my eyes on the inside of the immaculate home. It’s got the most striking furniture I’ve ever seen. It all looks antique, probably extremely expensive and rare.

  “Wow,” I breathe. “This place is amazing.”

  Raide puts me down on a golden couch that’s so soft and squishy, I want to melt into it. Then he strides into the kitchen, rifling about until he finds an ice pack. He brings it back and sits on the coffee table in front of me, taking my ankle in his hands and placing it on his knees. Then he presses the ice to it. I yelp, but he’s unrelenting.

  “Keep still,” he orders.

  “Are you always so angry?”

  He lifts those gorgeous amber eyes to mine and holds them. “No, but tonight I’m pissed.”

  “Why?”

  “Why?” he laughs bitterly. “You were out there, a man on top of you, ass on display. That’s fuckin’ why.”

  “I’m not your woman,” I protest. “So why should it matter?”

  He shakes his head. “We’ve been dancing around each other for nearly a month now. Showin’ up in the same places, flirting, kissing, making a scene. You might not be my woman, but you’re fuckin’ thinking about me as much as I’m thinking about you.”

  He’s thinking about me?

  My heart melts. Bad heart.

  “So?” I say, my voice lustier. “Doesn’t mean you should be angry at me because that crazy man tackled me to the floor.”

  “If someone had come out, they would have gotten a good look of your ass.”

  “And?”

  “And—” He leans forward until we’re only a breath apart. “—it’s an ass I’ve been wanting to see since I first saw you.”

  Oh boy.

  “Ah.” I look away. “So who’s this friend you’re staying with?”

  He reaches up, curling his fingers around my chin and turning my face toward his. “Stop changing the subject. You want it as much as I do.”

  He’s right, I do. But I shouldn’t. It’s too big a risk.

  “Doesn’t matter,” I whisper, staring at his lips. “I can’t have you.”

  “Why?”

  “Why?”

  “Yeah, lady, why?”

  “Ah.” I let my eyes dart around his room. “I don’t know. Can I use your shower?”

  He growls and lets me go. “No, you fuckin’ can’t. You’re going to sit here and let this foot rest.”

  I huff, but I’m quickly distracted when he runs his thumb over my skin. I look up at him and see he’s watching me with an intense expression. “Why’re you playing these games with me?”

  I swallow, looking away. I feel buzzed, but I don’t know if it’s the alcohol or him. My mind is screaming at me that I shouldn’t be here, but I can’t turn away. I want to, but I can’t.

  “Is there a serious side to you?”

  I’m surprised by his question. So much so, I just stare at him instead of actually answering.

  “Who is the real Grace?”

  What? “Pardon?” I whisper.

  “You’re always playing, but there’s more to you. Tell me.” He leans back, keeping my ankle on his lap.

  I can hardly kick him off. He watches me with those unfathomable eyes, and I’m captured by him—so much so, I start talking to him. “I am serious,” I say softly. “But if I live my entire life like I’ve got a stick shoved up my ass, how happy is that life going to truly be?”

  He tilts his head to the side. “You’re right, but most people avoid these things because they’ve got something to hide.”

  I shake my head. “I have nothing to hide. This is who I am. It’s always been who I am.”

  “Okay, Gracie,” he murmurs low. “Tell me something about you no one else knows.”

  I lean back and think about it. “Well, I didn’t have a puppy named Tiger growing up.”

  He grins, and I crack a genuine smil
e back.

  “Answer this for me, and I’ll let it go. If you could be anything in the world, what would you be?”

  I’d say a bounty hunter, but that’s not entirely truthful, and I know it’s not what he’s asking. So I look him straight in the eye, “I’d be me, Raide. Nothing but me.”

  Pain flashes through his eyes, and it hurts me to see it.

  “What about you?” I breathe.

  He places my foot down and stands. “I’d be free, Gracie. That’s it.”

  God.

  He’s breaking my heart.

  * * *

  Raide disappears and I decide to go and find a shower. I feel sticky and horrible. With some hobbling, I finally come across one. It’s as nice as I thought it would be. There’s a massive spa bath in the corner and a shower big enough for eight people, no shit. I hobble toward the sink and turn on the tap, splashing water onto my face. My mind is reeling, and this is a bad situation. Raide is tempting, too tempting. Not to mention, we’re connecting. I can feel it.

  I had a plan, and this is pretty much it, but the idea of calling it in right now scares me. Firstly, the state of my ankle puts me in a bad place if anything were to go wrong. Secondly, something is holding me back. I want a little bit longer, I want to talk some more, I want to spend one night to see what Raide is really like despite the risk. I’m sinking myself deeper, I know I am, but it doesn’t change how I’m feeling.

  When I’m finished in the bathroom, I hobble back out. Raide is nowhere to be seen. I drag my wobbly body through the house until I find him in a bedroom. I gasp when I let my eyes settle on him. He’s standing beside the bed, shirtless, and in the process of unbuttoning his pants. I can’t take my eyes off him, no matter what tiny voice is screaming inside my head to look away.

  I have to blink at least six times, because there is no way someone who looks like that is real. His shoulders are wide and muscled, narrowing down to a gorgeous set of hips that his jeans are hanging low on. His biceps are huge, and lines of muscles run up and down his arms, flexing when he moves. God. When his jeans drop, I suck in a breath.

  Naked.

  He’s naked.

  Oh my God. I’m a perv. I’m staring at him and he doesn’t even know I’m here.

  “You going to stand there staring at me, or are you going to come in here and finish what we’ve been starting for a good while now?”

 

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