“Katrina!” Carter roared, not yet seeing Cole approaching from behind.
“She’s not here.” Cole held out his arms as he walked into the living room, an unspoken invitation to bring it on. “Why don’t you try taking on someone your own size? Or do you only beat on women?”
That was all the bait that bastard needed. With a roar, he spun around and charged Cole like a linebacker—probably because he was a linebacker. Cole sidestepped the dive and drove his fist into Carter’s side. The satisfying crunch of his ribs only heightened Cole’s need for blood. Carter crashed into the wall, but turned around faster than he expected, taking a wild swing Cole barely dodged. He countered with a sharp uppercut that caught Carter in the jaw. His head snapped back, he stumbled, but the bastard didn’t go down.
Cole shot in for a takedown, driving his shoulder into the bastard’s bulky chest, and that took him down—hard. But Cole knew he wasn’t going to stay that way. With an enraged snarl, he swung his elbow up and nailed Cole in the jaw. The guy was a hard hitter. There was no finesse. Raw power and brute strength was all he had going for him, and it wouldn’t be enough to beat Cole. His fist slammed into Carter’s face, stunning him enough for Cole to pass his guard as he proceeded to pound the shit out of him.
The fighter in him took over—the rage tunneled his vision and he couldn’t stop. Even when the fucker quit fighting back, Cole drove his fist into his face. Again. Again. Again. His knuckles broke open with the force of the impact. He welcomed the burn, the pain lancing up his arm with each punishing blow. He might not have quit if he hadn’t heard Katie’s tearful plea, felt her pulling on the arm that held Carter pinned to the ground, his hand wrapped tightly around that bastard’s thick throat—squeezing . . .
“Cole, stop! Please!” she cried, pulling him off the lifeless piece of shit. “Please, stop! I need you . . .”
Hearing her desperate cry snapped his mind back into focus. Rallying his self-control, Cole relented from his assault and rose to his feet. Tears stained her beautiful face and it absolutely shredded him. He took a step toward her and Katie threw herself into his arms. Her knees buckled and she collapsed against him, dissolving into a fit of choking, gut-wrenching sobs.
“Shh . . .” he soothed, cupping the back of her head and holding her against his chest as he moved them a few steps farther away from Carter’s motionless body. He wasn’t sure if the bastard was KO’d or dead. Given the choice, Cole would prefer the latter. “Shh . . . It’s over now. You’re going to be all right, Kat.”
“I can’t . . . believe . . . you’re . . . here,” she sobbed between hitching breaths.
Emotion clogged his throat, he couldn’t speak. It just felt so damn good to hold his girl in his arms again, to know she was safe. Officer Wyatt would be here soon, and finally this nightmare would be over for her. He smoothed his hand up and down her back, his gut clenching with each shuddering sob that wracked her small frame. He wasn’t certain how much time passed while he stood there, holding her. But as her breaths began to slow and her body softened against him, he sensed she’d weathered the worst of it for now. They needed to talk. There was so much left to say, but he’d be damned if he could bring himself to utter the words hovering on the tip of his tongue—not again—not after the last time.
Seeming to rally her strength, Katie stepped back, and it took everything in him to let her go. Looking up at him with those heart-stopping emerald eyes she said, “Cole, I—”
But he never got to hear what she was about to say. Her confession died on her lips, cut short by a startled gasp as her gaze darted past his shoulder, her luminous eyes growing impossibly large. Before he could turn around, Cole heard the distinct snick of a cocking gun and froze, icy dread crystalizing the blood in his veins. Fuck, he silently cursed himself for not killing that bastard when he had the chance. This guy was a damn tank. He should have known that asshole would be packing. Slowly, Cole turned, placing himself between Katie and that gun. Her fingers curled around his wrist, nails biting into his flesh.
“Get away from her,” Carter snarled, leveling the muzzle at Cole’s chest as he staggered to his feet. Carter was too far away. There was a good chance he’d get a shot off before Cole could tackle him again. His vision had to be impaired, which brought Cole no measure of comfort. The only thing worse than a crazy man with a gun was a blind crazy man with a gun. One of Carter’s eyes was completely swollen shut; the other was sporting a shiner with a cut above his eyebrow that was still bleeding. Blood was smeared across his face; his nose, swollen and deformed.
In the distance, Cole heard the whir of a police siren growing closer by the second. He cursed under his breath. That might be all it’d take to light the fuse on this loose cannon.
“I’m not going to tell you again,” he warned. “Get the fuck away from Katrina.”
Her grip on Cole tightened—her panic as tactile as a living, breathing entity. It shredded him to see her like this. He could practically feel her terror coursing through his veins. Slowly, he pried her hands off of his. “It’s all right,” he assured her with more conviction than he felt. Cole stepped away from her and experienced a measured amount of relief when the gun followed him instead of remaining pointed in Katie’s direction. The siren was close now, so close it couldn’t be more than a few blocks away.
“It didn’t have to end like this,” Carter told her. “You ruined everything.”
Her hands covered her face as she struggled to hold herself together. “Carter, don’t do this,” she pleaded, shaking her head as if she couldn’t quite fathom the sudden turn of events. “Just let Cole go and I’ll leave with you.”
The fuck she would. Over his dead body was this woman going anywhere with this psychotic asshole. Sadly, that might become a reality in pretty short order. With that gun trained on his chest, he wasn’t seeing this playing out in his favor.
“It’s not too late,” she insisted, pleading with Carter.
The siren roared closer, the police lights flashing a strobe of red and blue through the living room. A car door slammed outside, and footsteps pounded up the porch steps.
“Yes, it is.”
Carter looked at her and the decided, deadpan stare in his eyes struck Cole numb with terror. Holy fuck, he was going to do it! As Carter swung his arm to the left, training his gun on Katie, Cole dove for her. The front door crashed open, and Officer Wyatt charged into the living room, shouting, “Freeze, police!”
A gun went off with an ear-ringing pop and something slammed into the back of Cole’s shoulder, tearing through his chest. The force of the blow knocked him off his feet and he hit the ground—hard. He couldn’t breathe. Hot, burning pain lanced down his arm. Katie screamed. Another shot rang out, this one a deeper, louder bark.
Crack! Crack!
Katie’s screams were muffled by the gunfire. Cole tried to get up, but a pair of hands pushed him back down. He opened his eyes, forcing them to focus. His vision momentarily cleared. Katie knelt, hovering over him. “Don’t move!” she cried, tears raining down her cheeks, landing on his chest. “You’ve been shot!”
He was well aware, though Cole doubted she’d appreciate him pointing that out. His shoulder and chest burned like holy fire; even moving his fingers sent jolts of white lightning racing up his arm and into his shoulder. The pain made him dizzy. It was difficult to keep his gaze focused on her, so he closed his eyes. In the distance he heard Officer Wyatt on his radio, calling for an ambulance. Katie was sobbing now. He winced, stifling a groan when she flopped over him, clinging to him with desperation.
“Don’t die, Cole!”
The floor was wet beneath him; a bone-deep chill was setting in, making him shiver, which sent another blast of pain rocketing through him. Dizziness swept over him in waves and the room began to spin. I’m not going to die, Kat. He tried to tell her, but wasn’t certain if the reassurance reached his lips before the darkness finally dragged him under, numbing the pain with blessed relief.
<
br /> Cole had lost an alarming amount of blood. The doctor said the bullet had shattered his shoulder blade, nicked his subclavian artery, and exited the front of his chest. They’d rushed him into surgery, where he’d been for the last two hours. Katie had spent the first hour giving Officer Wyatt her statement. He’d then left to file the paperwork and begin whatever it was cops did when they shot someone in the line of duty. She was thankful to him for everything he’d done. If he hadn’t gotten there when he did, there was a good chance neither she nor Cole would have survived.
Now alone, Katie paced the small waiting room, the white walls providing none of the serenity they were intended for. The coffee at the nourishment station was cold and black as tar. Not that she needed the caffeine. Right now, she was running on pure adrenaline, and she guessed it would be that way for some time. Reaching the wall, she turned around and retraced her steps until she met its counterpart, then turned around and started all over again, rehearsing all the things she wanted to tell Cole if he made it out of surgery—when he made it out.
Nothing forced clarity and straightened out one’s priorities like staring death in the eye. And that was a sight she was certain would haunt her the rest of her days. Carter was dead, and she felt no guilt over the relief that brought her. Her nightmare was finally over. No more living in fear, looking over her shoulder—no more running. Finally, she could bury the past and move on with her life—a life she hoped to share with Cole, if he still wanted her. But after the way she’d reacted, the way she’d pushed him away, perhaps it was too late for them. For crissake, she’d nearly gotten him killed.
He’d saved her life tonight, diving in front of a bullet meant for her, but at what cost?—his own life?—his career? His shoulder was shattered. Was this the clincher to end this fighter’s career? Would she be the ruin of Cole Easton, the CFA light-heavyweight champion, aka the Beast of the East? How ironic that her uncle had sent him here so she could save his career, only to have him lose it in the end because of her.
Thinking of . . . she really needed to call her uncle and tell him what happened and that Cole was in surgery. As far as she knew, he was the closest thing Cole had to family, and it didn’t seem right not to call someone on his behalf. She also needed to tell him about her father’s stroke. It was a call she didn’t relish making. She was still angry with him for what he’d done, but she couldn’t put it off any longer.
A dull, throbbing pain in Cole’s right side pulled him from unconsciousness. The soft, steady beep tracking his pulse and the cuff on his arm, inflating as the machine began to hum, confirmed he was in the hospital. The worst case of cotton mouth ever, and a whopping anesthesia hangover, told him he was definitely narked up.
Slender fingers slipped between his and squeezed gently. “Cole . . . ?”
If that sweet, angelic voice didn’t make him want to open his eyes and join the living, nothing would.
“I think he’s waking up,” she whispered.
“Well, it’s about damn time.”
And if that grouching voice didn’t make him want to give up his ghost, then it looked like he was here to stay. Who would have thought taking a quarter-inch piece of lead would make a guy feel like he’d been hit by a Mack truck?
“Hey, Sleeping Beauty, unless you want me to kiss you and prove I’m your true love instead of this gorgeous little chica here, I suggest you open your eyes.”
What the hell . . . ? What was Kruze doing here? Cole forced open his eyes to find the trio sitting vigil at his bedside. A haggard-looking Marcus was on his left, and beside him was the ever-cocky, God bless him, Aiden Kruze. Which only left . . . Cole tipped his head to the right and his heart stuttered at the sight of Katie’s beautiful, worried face. His monitor announced the palpitation along with his quickening pulse. She glanced up at the screen, her worried frown deepening as she looked back at him anxiously.
He gave her a sedated grin. “Don’t worry . . . It happens every time I see you.” Damn, his voice sounded like he’d been eating glass. And if someone could just remove this hot poker from his lung, that would be real swell.
Tears filled Katie’s eyes and she let out what might have been a poor attempt to laugh, but sounded more like a choking sob of relief. Marcus muttered a curse under his breath and scrubbed his hand over his head, a nervous gesture Cole had seen him do from the cage more than once. Kruze outright laughed, never losing that unshakable smirk.
“Leave it to Easton to put on the moves from his deathbed.”
Katie gasped in alarm, clearly not appreciating it was a joke. He scowled at Kruze and croaked, “I’m not dying, asshole. Quit scaring her, will ya?”
“Sorry . . .” Kruze’s halfhearted apology earned him another scowl.
“What are you doing here?”
Kruze gave him a negligent shrug. “I was with the old man when Katie Bug called him.”
Katie Bug? Why in the hell was Kruze “Katie Bugging” his woman?
“Hey, who are you calling old?” Marcus piped up. “I ain’t too old to kick your scrawny ass.”
At the threat, Kruze laughed again. “Anyway, when she told Marcus what happened, and that you caught a bullet, I figured you might need to lawyer up, so . . .” Kruze spread his arms as if to say, Isn’t it obvious? Here I am to save the day.
Katie coughed, sounding like she was covering a surprised laugh. “Aiden is a lawyer?”
“That’s right, sweetheart. Board-certified and everything.” He winked, giving her one of those infamous panty-dropping grins that had gotten him laid more times than Cole could count. Normally, he found it amusing, but turned on his girl?—not so much.
“Wink at her again and I’m going to punch you in the fucking eye,” Cole growled.
“Take it easy, tough guy,” Kruze laughed, holding his hands up in surrender. “I’d hate for you to bust a stitch or something.”
“Ha-ha.” He glanced at Katie, noting some of her fear seemed to have eased at listening to him banter with Kruze. She looked like she could use the distraction, though things were going to get serious in pretty short order. They needed to talk. There were things between them that needed to be said—things that couldn’t wait any longer. “I hate to seem unappreciative of having you all here. It’s damn good to see you, but I could use a little privacy.”
Katie’s face fell. Worry replaced the little upturn of those lush, delectable lips he longed to kiss. Fuck, she looked exhausted. If he had his way, he’d lift these covers and tuck her in beside him, but (a) he was pretty sure that was against some hospital policy, and (b) no matter how much he wanted to, Cole refused to allow himself to touch her again, not without knowing where things stood between them.
“Say no more,” Kruze said, scooting back his chair and rising. Marcus was right behind him. When Katie released his hand, looking like her favorite dog had just died, and moved to stand, he caught her wrist, stopping her.
“Not you. You stay,” he told her. The brief moment of relief that crossed her face was quickly replaced with anxiety. Did she think he was upset with her? After everything he’d done for her, how could she still doubt him like this? The knowledge came like a stinging blow and had him scowling in response. Her gaze darted to the two men, and for a moment it looked like she might bolt with them. If Marcus or Kruze noticed the shifting tide of tension, neither of them said anything.
“Well, kid, I’m glad as hell you’re not dead.” Marcus reached over and ruffled his hair like a parent might tease their two-year-old.
Despite himself, Cole smiled, shaking his head. “I love you, too, old man.”
At the gushy confession, Marcus grunted and turned away, but not before Cole noticed his eyes watering. He made his way to the door, and Kruze wasn’t far behind him.
“I think I’ll head down to the station and see what’s doin’. I’ll catch ya later, yeah?”
“Sounds good.”
“See ya, Katie Bug.”
“Will you quit calling her that?�
�� Cole growled.
The fighter laughed, sending her a parting flirtatious wink as he passed by.
He was nearly out the door when Cole called, “Hey, Kruze.” The fighter stopped and looked back, that classic Kruze crooked grin splayed on his too-handsome-for-his-own-good face. Not that Cole was a good judge of such things, but if his popularity with the women was any indication . . . “Thanks for being here, man.”
“My pleasure.”
Kruze pulled the door closed behind him, leaving him and Katie alone for the first time since things had ended so badly. Her gaze was fixed on an interesting knot of thread on his bedspread. She nervously picked at it, rolling the strand between her fingers. Silence stretched between them as he waited for her to say something. When it became evident that wasn’t going to happen, he patted the empty space beside him. She glanced up, looking a little surprised and a whole lot hesitant.
Rising from her chair, she sat facing him. The firm mattress barely caved to her slight added weight. Her slender legs were crossed as they bent over the side of his bed, half committed to her new seat, like she might up and bolt at any moment. Damn, this was more difficult than he’d thought it would be. His mind raced with things he wanted to say, shifting and sorting the important from the things that could wait until later.
He wasn’t sure where to start. It was hard to concentrate with her sitting this close to him, her light lavender scent teasing his senses, heightening his awareness of her. He attributed the slight wave of dizziness to the shunting of blood heading south. The way she affected him, so swift and guttural, even just being near him, had Cole second-guessing his suggestion she move closer.
It was hard enough to think clearly with whatever it was they were pumping into his veins. He was having a hell of a time focusing when all he wanted to do was pull her into his arms and hold her. He’d nearly lost her last night, and when he thought of how close he’d come to never seeing this beautiful face again, never touching this incredible body, never hearing that angelic laugh . . . It clogged his throat with so much emotion, he probably couldn’t speak right now if he tried.
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