Fight For Her (More Than A Cowboy 1)

“Yes!” I hissed, then pressed my lips together. My nostrils flared as I tried to calm my breathing.

Gray called to someone, said something, but I was too panicked to follow. “Emory, are you in the house now?”

I shook my head, my hair getting in my face, then realized he couldn’t see me. “No. I ran down the street. I’m hiding between cars. I called 9-1-1 but didn’t get a chance to talk.”

“Don’t move.” I heard car doors slam and I flinched, but it was through the phone. “Baby, we’re on the way. Reed called the police, too. Just listen to my voice. Okay?”

I didn’t know who the hell Reed was, but I didn’t care. Gray was coming. “Okay, but…hurry.”

GRAY

The second dinner with the PR rep went well, as much as a dinner meeting can go. Reed in a suit was hard to wrangle; he was more comfortable in MMA shorts and a T-shirt than a tie. I didn’t blame him. I’d chucked my own tie onto the coffee table as soon as we got back to my apartment. With a full stomach, he couldn’t train, so we watched fight videos and talked strategy. The upcoming competition would be in a ring, but training was more than just practice fighting. I’d been relaxed on the sofa, my feet on the coffee table, remote in hand, when Emory called. The rush of pleasure at the sight of her name on the screen still surprised me.

I hadn’t expected to hear from her, knowing she was probably asleep after her third long day at work. I’d wanted to meet her at the ER when she was done, take her out to eat, but I’d had to do dinner with the sponsors of the fight. This was new to me, the excitement I had when I was with her, near her, or even thinking of her. I’d hoped she might be in bed, and wanting to tell me what she was wearing. I smiled as I took the call, but it slipped the instant I heard her voice.

Just one word, my name, and her fear was obvious. Jesus, there was a man in her house. Emory didn’t have any skills, any way to defend herself. When I'd given her the tour and we stood in the ring together, she hadn't even known how to form proper fists. I'd had to show her how to hold them up in front of her. I was in my apartment and she was across town, hiding between parked cars from a fucking criminal.

I jumped to my feet as if cattle prodded and snapped my fingers at Reed, who immediately perked up from his spot.

“Someone’s in Emory’s house. Came in through the back door.”

Rounding the couch, I gave Reed her address for the police. I bolted for the emergency stairwell. Fuck the slow elevator. Taking the steps two and three at a time, I continued to reassure her while Reed got on the horn with 9-1-1. In the parking lot, I tossed my keys to Reed. There was no way I could drive as I kept talking with Emory. By the time we were in the car, I was in a full-out panic for her safety, the hot rush of fear and the rage at my lack of control had me gripping the door handle so hard it would probably have dents. The fucker had come in the back door of her house. Had she ever replaced that broken bulb? Shit, why hadn’t I gone and done it for her like I’d planned?

Reed didn’t waste time getting out of the parking lot. For once, I was thrilled he drove like fucking Mario Andretti.

&nb

sp; I remembered my dad’s text from the night before. He knew about Emory. From his words, he’d had me followed to her house and knew exactly where she lived. He’d never done something this extreme to fuck with me, but I hadn’t had someone like Emory before either. “Holy shit, Reed. Drive faster.”

“The police should be there soon,” he said, his usual fighting focus now on the road. He downshifted and the engine roared.

“Is this the one?” he asked as he steered and skidded around a turn. Thankfully, the roads were mostly deserted since he was breaking every law. I didn’t give a shit. If the police wanted to pull us over, they could follow us all the way to Emory's for all I cared. I hadn’t mentioned Emory to anyone but Thor, but it seemed the men knew about her anyway. They were worse about gossip than a bunch of old ladies. I hadn’t heard that she was considered The One, though. Was she The One? Hell yes.

I gave a stiff nod as I held the phone to my ear. “Emory, 9-1-1 will send someone to your house since you called and hung up and Reed called them, too. They’ll be there soon. You don’t have to talk, baby, just keep your head down and stay nice and quiet. We’re getting closer. Don’t move.”

I could hear her breathing, quick and frantic. Fuck, I’d known Emory less than a week and she was more to me than anyone before; she was everything. The idea of someone wanting to hurt her had my hands tightening into fists. I wanted to hunt down the bastard and beat the shit out of him. I wanted to grab Emory to me, hold her close, sink into her and never come up for air. I needed her scent, her feel, her taste like I needed to breathe. And we’d only kissed. This wasn’t lust. This wasn’t infatuation. This was so much deeper.

“Go through the fucking light,” I growled when Reed slammed on the brakes when the light in front of us turned yellow, then red. My head whipped back against the headrest when he downshifted and roared through the intersection. It was a solid ten-minute ride, but we made it in a little over five. How we weren’t pulled over, I had no idea.

“We’re almost there, baby. I can hear you breathing, know you're with me. I’m going to call your name when I get there and you’re going to come out for me and everything’s going to be okay.”

“Yes.” Her voice was barely more than a breath in the phone, but I heard sirens in the background. The guy had to be long gone by now but I wasn’t taking any fucking chances.

“Pull up here.” I pointed to a break in the cars lining the side of her street and Reed weaved into the space, tires skidding. I opened the door and dashed out. I could see police lights, but not in front of the row of houses. They’d probably pulled into the alley as that’s where Reed had told 9-1-1 how the guy got in.

“Emory!” I shouted, spun in a circle in the middle of the street. Cars were parallel parked bumper to bumper on both sides for the entire block. Everything was quiet. Where the hell was she? “Emory!”

As I lifted my cell to my ear to tell her to come out, she stood up from between two cars. She was like an apparition appearing from nowhere.

“Gray!”

Relief shot through me like I was back in battle and realizing I hadn’t been hit in a firefight. It was a sick combination of adrenaline and sheer relief. She was on the far side of the street, about five cars down. I ran to her, my shoes slapping loudly on the pavement.

I slowed within a few feet of her, looked her over, from her shiny bright toenails to her bare legs, tiny sleep shorts and tank top to her tousled hair. It was the look on her face, a combination of fear and desperate need—not a sexual need, but a longing for someone so great that it was almost fierce—that had me pulling her into me. Her arms went around my waist, gripping me tightly as if she were afraid to let go.

As I planted kisses on the top of her head, the scent of coconut soothed the anger. Her frantic breathing moved my arms and she felt warm, so very warm against me. She was alive and safe and I never wanted to go through that again, fucking ever.

Reed came up beside us, stood like a soldier waiting for an order. I didn’t move but I gave the slightest nod of my head to indicate that she was okay. I watched as his shoulders lowered in relief and he walked away, perhaps to connect with the police who were now coming down the block.