Heart of a Fighter (Rocky River Fighters 1)

Alex frowned to himself, trying to figure out what elongated pupils meant. He didn’t think he bought the idea of a snake or lizard shifter, but he wasn’t sure what else they could be talking about. Cammie spoke again, and the defeat in her voice snapped his attention back to their conversation.

“Fuck, they’re probably here for me. And somehow masking their scent, or hiding their pupils. My kind’s eyes can change quickly. You know that as well as I do. Either way, whether they’re my kind or other shifters, their presence doesn’t bode well for me.”

“Whoa, slow down, Cammie,” Seth urged. “We don’t know they’

re here for you. Maybe word’s just gotten out about so many shifters being in Eagle Creek, they heard about us fighters and came to check us out. That could be all it is.”

“Then why hide what they are? At the very least, they should have introduced themselves, told us beforehand before letting us find out like that,” she snapped.

“Some shifters are just jackasses like that. We all know one shifter in this barn who would pull something like that, thinking he was either showing off or being funny,” Ian said with a laugh.

“I resent that,” Seth answered, not sounding like it bothered him at all.

“Look,” Ian said. “You’re not the only one who has a past out to get them, Cammie. If they’re here with bad intentions, it might not be for you.”

“Oh, gee, you just made me feel so much better,” she shot back.

“It’s just the truth. We do nothing until we know what their purpose of being here is. We wait, and we watch. And I know what’s going through that head of yours, Cammie. You’re not taking off. No running. We handle it, if it even it’s about you, as a team. Promise me.”

Alex took an involuntary step backward at Ian’s words, wincing as his heel snapped a twig. It was a quiet sound, but he had no doubt the fighters would hear it. He immediately began easing away from the barn, stealthily blending with the shadows as Seth poked his head out of the barn.

He walked through the woods back to the house, his mind whirring. He’d disappeared into the darkness so easily, like it was second nature to him. It made him anxious, because he didn’t know why it came so naturally to him, or why his mind whispered rookie mistake when he stepped on the twig.

As unsettled as it made him, that wasn’t what his mind couldn’t let rest. Ian sounded positive that Cammie’s next move would be running, and something inside him was violently rejecting the possibility.

He didn’t want her in danger. That was a given, and the thought that she could be was tearing him up inside. And if danger was here, knocking on her back door, he absolutely wanted her to run. But he also knew the fighters here wouldn’t let anything happen to her. They were more of a family than anything, and they’d lay their lives down for her, he was sure of it. But they might not be enough.

Alex reached the back door and went inside, nodding and smiling at Shelby when she looked up from a drawing she was making on the table.

“Did Hannah leave?” he asked. Hannah was a friend of the fighters. Her and Shelby bonded quickly after the little girl came to live with Ian, from what he was able to gather, and Hannah came over to stay with her when there was a fight.

“Yeah, not too long after you guys got back. Are you okay? You look upset,” she replied, watching him with inquisitive bright blue eyes.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Just tired. You okay down here if I head up to my room?”

“I’m eight. I think I can handle it,” she replied, lips curving upward, eyes twinkling.

“Minx,” he said affectionately, ruffling her hair as he walked past her.

He walked upstairs and went to his room, laying down on the bed without bothering to kick his boots off. Stacking his hands behind his head, he stared at the ceiling as his mind raced. He was worried for Cammie’s safety. Like Ian said, they didn’t know what those two shifters were here for, but he wasn’t willing to bet her safety on a might not be. He needed absolutes when it came to Cammie.

Leaving, and being alone and vulnerable, wasn’t the answer. But he wasn’t sure staying here was either. Because who knew what they wanted from her and how far they were willing to go to get it, or if they’d send off to wherever for reinforcements. Maybe he could help protect her. He was shit at fighting, and he was just a human. But he could learn to fight, put more effort into becoming better at it. He wasn’t sure how effectual he’d realistically be in a fight, but he had to do something.

Nodding his head in determination, Alex pushed himself back off the bed so he could get his boots off, resolve filling him. He could do this. For Cammie, he was positive he could do anything, especially if it helped keep her safe.

Chapter Four

Cammie gulped down a cup of coffee, not caring that it burned her tongue. She barely slept a wink last night, her mind too full of worries to sleep. She still didn’t know what she was going to do. Staying felt dangerous, but leaving felt equally so. But every time she tried to imagine leaving here, leaving her brothers, it wasn’t them she saw in her mind.

It was Alex.

Followed swiftly by thoughts of how much she didn’t want to leave him behind, either. Which was crazy. She barely knew him. She shouldn’t care if she left him behind, or if he took off tomorrow. Hell, she should even help him go if that’s what he wanted.

Shaking her head, she left the kitchen and headed to the barn. Even she could hear the lie in her thoughts just now. She should want those things, but she didn’t. But this was all too much. Too much to contemplate, on top of the reality that the reprieve she bought herself for years was most likely coming at an end.

What she needed was to not think about all this crap. To go to the place she felt at home the most, which just happened to be in a gym somewhere, pummeling the crap out of something.

She walked into the barn and halted when she saw it was already occupied. Alex was there, tearing into the punching bag with fury etched in the lines of his body. It wasn’t like when he did it the other day, though. He wasn’t just throwing wild punches at the bag. He was controlled, precise, specific. He was in profile to her, but she could still see the burning intensity on his face as he concentrated.