Chapter 4

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Bark. Bark. Bark.

Silky black hair fell on his chest as Chrissy slid onto him. Her piercing blue eyes begged him for more pleasure. She didn’t talk, she didn’t argue, she just enjoyed and accepted what he had to give her. It felt like a triumphant fuck-you because he’d managed to shut her up with pleasure. He put his hands on her hips and lifted her up and then thrust her down while he simultaneously pushed his pelvis deeper into her, again and again until her eyes rolled back in agonized pleasure. She moaned his name as she …

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Bark. Bark. Bark.

“For the love of God! Can’t a guy dream in peace around here?” He hopped out of bed, adjusted himself, and painfully walked downstairs to where Drogo was jumping up and down facing the door, barking. “There better be a damn good reason you’re waking me up, Martin.” He flung the door open.

“There is. I need to know where Slade’s fighting.”

“Oh. Sorry. Wrong Martin.” His fantasy didn’t do justice to how gorgeous she really was. I hope she doesn’t look down. He tried to adjust his shorts again, stealthily this time. She reached down to pet Drogo, but he growled, so she pulled back with a small pout. Sexiest damn pout he’d ever seen.

“Pardon?”

“I thought it was Slade knocking. He’s usually the only one that knocks relentlessly like that. I guess it runs in your DNA.” He let out a sigh and stepped aside. “Come on in.”

“No. No time. I need the address of where Slade’s fighting.” He could tell she was trying not to be affected by him, but her gaze trailed down his bare chest and then quickly found his eyes again. “Address. Now. Please.”

“What for?”

“So I can go.”

“Why?”

“I want to make sure he’s safe and comes straight home.”

“He’s not twelve years old, Chris. You can’t control him.”

“Are you going to help me or not? This is a small enough town. I’m sure if I ask around someone will give me the address of the fight.”

“Is there any way, any way at all, I can convince you not to go?” She shook her head. “Fuck, Chris. Give me a minute. Let me get dressed. Come in for a sec.”

“Why? I don’t need you to go. I only need the address.” She reached down again, and Drogo growled once more. As if she owned the house, Chrissy walked over to the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and took out peanut butter and grape jelly. Jack looked at her, completely bewildered. Did she even know what she was doing? Was she hungry? She slathered a slice of bread with peanut butter and jelly and cut it into small pieces. She placed a small square on her palm and bent down.

Jack shook his head as if he was trying to get the weirdness out of his brain. “I’m not letting you go by yourself. And what the hell are you doing?” He reached down to pull her up.

“Never mind what I’m doing!” She swatted his hand away and stayed crouched down. “Save the big-brother act. I’m not the same little girl you thought you had to protect. I’ve grown up. I can fend for myself.” Drogo hesitantly walked over to her, sniffed her palm, and backed away. Chrissy placed the small squares on the floor, stood, and wiped her hands on a nearby washcloth. “Please, I just need the address.”

Jack sighed. Didn’t she understand that the dog would never like her? He didn’t like anyone, including Jack, who fed and housed him!

“Oh, trust me, I know you’re not the same little girl you used to be.” His heated gaze swept her body. “That’s exactly why I have to go with you. You’re not going alone to a testosterone-fueled cage fight. So be a doll and sit your pretty little ass on this chair for five minutes so I can get dressed.”

Five minutes later, Jack was tying the laces of his sneakers. He was wearing black sweatpants that fell low on his hips and a white tank top. Chrissy sat on the wood floor, her legs crossed, feeding Drogo small PB&J squares with her right hand while cautiously petting him with her left hand. The dog still appeared tentative about being touched, but it seemed that if petting came as a package deal with the food, Drogo had conceded to it. Jack rolled his eyes at the sight of Chrissy on the floor of his house, so sweet and docile—a very big change from the feistiness of just a few minutes ago. “Come on, beautiful girl. Let’s go keep your six-foot-four, three-hundred-pound professional cage fighter of a brother safe and sound.”

She tried to give Drogo one last pat before she stood up, but the pup took a step back. “Damn, I thought I’d won him over,” she mumbled. “Stop making fun, Jack. Come on, let’s go.” She pulled him by the arm as if she were twice his size. It was adorable. Ridiculous, but adorable.

“Wait. Before we go anywhere, you need to go change your shoes. You can’t go in heels to where we’re going.”

“These aren’t heels. They’re wedges.”

“I don’t know what you just said, but you can’t go in those shoes. Go get something more appropriate.”

“Fine, bossy man. I’ll be right back.” She ran across the lawn and was back in a minute.

“Better?”

He looked down to see her tight jeans tucked into cowboy boots. He ran a hand down the back of his skull and squeezed the back of his neck, trying to keep his head from exploding. He mumbled, “Evil, evil woman.”

“What?” Her eyebrows furrowed and she looked down at her feet. “They’re boots. They’re not open-toed.”

“Chris, seriously? You’re going to get me killed. Let’s go before I hurl you over my shoulder and carry you straight into my bed, where the only thing you’ll be thinking about is a different kind of contact sport.”

“You wish, buddy. I’m still so pissed off at you for taking him to train today that if I didn’t need the address, I would have never spoken to you again. If you really cared about him, you’d understand how stupid this is. He was just arrested for fighting. This has to be some sort of violation of bail or something. As a cop, not to mention his friend, you should be on my side. I don’t know why you just can’t give me the address and let me go on my own.” She took a step toward him and poked his chest. “And stop calling me Chris!”

“He was gonna go whether I drove him or not, Chrissy.” He slowly and loudly drawled out her name, as if making a point. “The entire way there I tried to convince him not to fight. I thought he’d listen to me if it was just him and me shooting the breeze. He doesn’t do well with confrontations.”

“Look, I don’t have time for this. If you’re coming with me, we have to go. Hurry up.”

She started to cross the lawn toward her car, but he reached for her forearm and swung her back and around to the garage. “We’ll take my car. Come on.” He pointed to the massive Jeep parked in his two-car garage. For once, she didn’t argue; she just shook her head, amused. “Big car.”

“Big guy,” he replied, pointing at himself and giving her a big, dimpled, mischievous smile.

They drove in silence. When they arrived, Chrissy looked around, taking in her surroundings. They were in an abandoned warehouse in the middle of nowhere. The warehouse was dilapidated, damp, and very crowded. Jack’s senses were on high alert, telling him that it was a bad idea for her to be there. But if he hadn’t gone with her, she would’ve gone alone, and that was not something he would have permitted.

“Just because you’re here doesn’t mean I’m not mad at you or at this entire situation,” she said, waving her arm to indicate the warehouse. From the way she held her head up high and stood in perfect posture, Jack could tell she was trying to be brave. But fear was written all over her face and her eyes were wide open, like a blue-eyed Bambi.

To top it off, she was dressed completely inappropriately. She had her hair in a long ponytail and was wearing jeans that were practically painted on, a black tank top, and cowboy boots that should have looked unfeminine but might actually have been the most sexually arousing pair of shoes he’d ever seen, even more so than her broken red high heels. Okay, probably because they were on Chrissy. He knew this was not a place that women frequented, and the men would most certainly notice her. The proper outfit would have been … well, he couldn’t think of one, because she shouldn’t have been there.

The closer they got to the center of the warehouse, the thicker the crowd got.

“Where’s the ring or the cage?” she asked.

“These underground fights don’t work like that. The crowd is the ring. Slade will fight in the middle.” He pointed to a large group of people. “You see those rowdy people over there? They will form a circle, and that circle will act as the ring. Do not go anywhere near that area. You hear me?”

“Don’t worry. I won’t.” She continued looking around. “So this isn’t a professional fight, is it?”

“No. Definitely not.”

He noticed that she had slowly inched her way closer to him. Admittedly, he’d never felt ashamed of what he did, but bringing Chrissy into this seedy environment disturbed him. He grabbed her waist and pulled her closer, tucking her under his left arm. She looked up at him, and in her face he saw absolutely no trace of humor or even the lust that had glazed her eyes the last few times they’d been together. All he saw was concern, and it tore at his heart. “Just trying to keep you safe,” he told her.

He looked around, trying to do a quick surveillance of the premise. He wanted to acquaint himself with all the exits, find where the rowdiest groups were standing, and see if anyone looked suspicious—just a habit he’d picked up from spending all these years as a cop.

She leaned into him on the tips of her toes and said into his ear, “I thought you said this was safe.”

It was so loud, it was hard to hear her. He bent down. “That’s not what I said. I said that I know what I’m doing when I get in the cage and fight. I can’t vouch for these assholes that stand around betting and drinking.”

“This doesn’t look legal. I remember seeing something similar to this in a small town in Brazil a few years back. People got seriously injured that night. You’re a cop—how can you be okay with this?”

He clenched his jaw and whispered, “You’re right, Chrissy, this isn’t legal and this isn’t the kind of place I fight in. My fights are sanctioned. This underground shit is something entirely different. But I’m going to pretend I’m not seeing this, as I’m off-duty. You understand?”

She nodded, grasping what he was saying—or, more important, what he wasn’t saying: that he was risking his career by being there.

“Do you know why I’m doing this, Chrissy?”

“Slade’s like a brother to you. I understand. Thank you so—”

“No, Chrissy,” he snapped at her, and palmed her cheeks a little more roughly than he had intended. “I’m not risking my career or your safety for your brother. He can take care of himself. You know why I’m doing this.”

Her big doe eyes looked into his, and she gulped. “For me?”

“Yes. I’m doing this for you, Chrissy.”

“I didn’t ask you to come.”

He shook his head. “God, you’re the most infuriating woman I’ve ever met. You’re this headstrong woman with me and a complete pushover with your brother. You come back to town after eleven years the minute he calls you to bail him out of jail. Jesus, you don’t even tell him to slow down ’cause he’s walking too fast and you can’t keep up. Do I just bring it out in you, a need to constantly fight me? I don’t understand you. You never used to be that way. When I would take you home after you sneaked into a party, you’d complain, but you just followed me to my car and pouted all the way back home.”

“I don’t mean to argue with you, Jack. And I wish I weren’t such a pushover when it comes to Slade, but I have my reasons.”

“Which are?”

Chrissy looked around and said, “Not the time or place.”

Jack nodded. “Come on, the fight is about to start. Do not leave my side for one second. Can you do this one single thing for me, please?”

“Yes. I promise.”

“Good. Come on.” He grabbed her hand and walked toward a wall at the far end of the outer ring of the crowd, close to one of the exits. It was darker than the rest of the warehouse but less crowded.

“God, what the hell was Slade thinking being here? Does he need money that badly?” Chrissy asked.

Jack just shrugged. He was wondering the same thing.

The bell sounded, and an announcer yelled, “Next up, Slade the Slayer versus Killer Kilpatrick.”

Chrissy gasped and covered her mouth. “Oh my God. Killer?”

“It’s just a name. Calm down. Take a deep breath. He’s fought much bigger men. Your brother’s good.”

Without much fanfare, Slade made his way into the center of the unruly crowd. He obviously hadn’t noticed Chrissy or Jack. He jumped up and down, loosening his muscles in preparation for the fight. He had on black gym shorts and sneakers. Killer, on the other hand, came out to loud, boisterous background music. He was wearing flashy lime-green shorts and apparently had a big fan base, judging by the cheers from the crowd.

Without noticing she was even doing it, she was clutching Jack’s forearm with one hand and covering her eyes with the other. “Come here.” He turned her around, pulled her into his chest, and cupped the back of her head while stroking her hair. “Don’t watch. I know you’ve seen all sorts of things as a doctor overseas, but it’s different when it’s your brother.” She nodded into his chest. Chrissy fisted Jack’s shirt as the yells and screams from the audience escalated, and he drew her in even closer.

“Fuck!” Jack yelled.

She pushed away from Jack and turned around. “What? What happened?” Chrissy tried getting on the tips of her toes to peer over the crowd but couldn’t see a thing. She tugged on the hem of Jack’s shirt. “What? Tell me. Is he hurt?”

He gently peeled her fingers from his shirt. “Nothing. He took a big blow to the face but he seems fine. I told you not to watch.” But just as the words finished coming from his lips, Killer lifted Slade over his body and slammed him into the ground. Jack’s eyes widened, but he tried not to flinch in order to keep Chrissy calm. Half a second later, Jack started breathing again when he saw Slade stand up. Thankfully, Chrissy was too short to see the bloodbath that was taking place in the center of the circle. He was glad that Chrissy had never seen them fight before, at least not since he and Slade had turned pro. When they had just been amateurs, they were the ones who left the ring battered, bruised, and losers. Now they took some blows but gave a lot more in return.

“Well, then don’t scream ‘fuck’ if you don’t want me to turn around!” She punched him on his biceps and then went back to burrowing into his chest, oblivious to the ass whupping that had just taken place.

The hand that had been cradling her head had somehow made its way underneath the hem of her shirt and was splayed against her lower back holding her close to his body. The rapid beating of her heart pounded against him. The noise of all the people yelling, combined with the muskiness of the warehouse and the fact that her brother was currently getting pummeled, was obviously making her anxious. He felt the exact moment when her resolve wavered, because she became jelly in his arms. He leaned back against the wall and spread his legs so that he could completely support her weight against him. “Hey, stay with me okay?” She nodded into his chest. “This is the last round. He’s doing great.”

She looked up at him. “I can’t see my brother get beat up … I just can’t. I feel like such a wuss. If he survives this fight, I’m going to kill him.”

“Take a number.”

A second before the final bell of the final round, Slade threw a jab to Killer’s nose, and when his opponent bent down in agony, Slade finished him off with a flying knee to the face. Blood spurted everywhere. Killer looked like a rag doll on the floor. Everyone screamed.

“He won, babe. It’s over.”

She was about to turn around, but he grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her to meet his gaze. “Listen to me. I want to warn you. He looks bad.” He looked across the room and then back down into her eyes again. “Real bad. Don’t freak out. Okay?”

Slowly she turned around. “I’m a doctor, I’ve seen it all. I don’t frea— Holy shit!”

Somehow she wriggled her way out of his grip and ran toward the crowd to help Slade. “Son of a bitch! This woman doesn’t listen to anything!” he groaned. “Chrissy! Wait up!” he yelled, but she paid no heed.

The crowd was all worked up. Some were angry because of the loss, others cheerful because of the win, but every single one of them was drunk and full of adrenaline. Jack couldn’t imagine a worse scenario for a girl like Chrissy on her own.

In the blink of an eye, the crowd consumed her and she was nowhere to be seen. His heart pumped and his mind began to race. As a cop, he faced danger every day, but there he was equipped to handle the situation. At the moment, however, he was a lost man. He couldn’t think straight. His sole thought was to find her.

Jack pushed his way toward the center, where Slade towered over the mob of people. When he was a few feet away from Slade, he looked around but didn’t see Chrissy. If he went up to Slade and explained that he’d lost his little sister, Slade would kill him—something that Jack would find completely justifiable. He backed away so that Slade wouldn’t see him, and continued to look.

There was an old scaffold in the far corner. Thank God for his daily workout routine, because it wouldn’t have been an easy task to climb up had he not been in peak physical condition. He placed both palms on the edge and did a pull-up. Once he got his legs over, he was able to stand up and look down at the mass of people. It was dark, but the crowd had started to disperse, making it easier to search.

When he didn’t see her, he thought he’d lose his mind. His heart began to race. Then from the corner of his eye he saw some commotion—and recognized those damn cowboy boots. He couldn’t see her face because of the men standing in front of her, but who else would be wearing cowboy boots and causing trouble? It looked like her back was pinned against the wall and a big man had his arms bracketed on either side of her, caging her in. Another man also hovered close by, obviously interested in the situation but not coming to Chrissy’s aid. Without hesitation, Jack jumped down and ran toward them.

He heard her before he saw her. “Do. Not. Touch. Me!” she yelled. Jack grabbed Asshole #1, the one who had her pinned against the wall, by the back of the neck and slammed him to the floor. When Asshole #1 tried to get back up, Jack punched him in the face.

“Hey, fucker, there’s enough pussy here to share,” yelled Asshole #2 to Jack as he grabbed Chrissy’s wrist and pulled her toward him. Jack immediately elbowed Asshole #2 in the nose, causing him to release Chrissy’s arm. Just then Chrissy pulled her knee up and slammed it right into Asshole #2’s groin as hard as she possibly could.

“Bitch!” was all Asshole #2 was able to mumble as he cupped himself and dropped to his knees.

“Good girl!” Jack said proudly to Chrissy as he reached for her, but Asshole #1 had somehow managed to get up and sucker-punched Jack square in the face. Chrissy screamed. Half a second later, Asshole #1 lay on the floor attempting to protect his face as Slade, who’d come from nowhere, beat into him. Left. Right. Left. Right.

“Stop it!” Chrissy screamed. “Stop it!” She hammered Slade on the back until he finally stepped away from the guy he was pummeling. Then she turned her attention to Jack. “Oh my God! Are you okay?” He nodded. She reached for him to help him up, which was silly given that he was at least a hundred pounds heavier, but he took her hand anyway.

“Come on, Slade. Let’s get out of here, fast. Cops will be here any moment,” Jack said. The irony of that was not wasted on them.

With Chrissy’s hand firmly held in Jack’s, the three of them ran toward Jack’s car. “I’ll drive,” Chrissy said, snatching the keys from Jack. He was going to argue, but his nose was gushing and his eye was beginning to swell. He was in no condition to drive, and being a doctor, she knew that.

Even through the pain and the blurry vision, it amused him to see Chrissy hop into the driver’s seat of his big Jeep and struggle slightly to move the seat forward.

Once they were a few miles out and all three had somewhat composed themselves, Slade asked, “Dude, why’d you bring her?”

“Really, Slade? Really? This is how we’re going to start this conversation? What the hell were you thinking, fighting in there?” Chrissy answered, even though the question was intended for Jack.

“Seriously, Slade, what were you doing there?” Jack added.

“I needed the money. I just made twenty-five grand.”

“What could you need money so badly for that you would risk your life?” Chrissy asked.

“You are so dramatic, sis. You’ve always been such a Goody Two-shoes. What’s the worst thing that could’ve happened? I could break something or need a couple of stitches. It’s still worth the money I made in ten minutes. And you,” he yelled, turning to the backseat, where Jack was sitting. “Again, why did you bring her?”

“Brother, since when does she listen to anything I say? She was coming no matter what. I came so she wouldn’t be alone.”

“First, I am not a Goody Two-shoes. Every time I ever tried to do anything, one of you two cretins would stop me. Second, don’t yell at Jack. He was protecting me. He risked his career coming here!” Jack’s heart swelled at hearing her defend him to her brother.

“Great job at protecting her, dude. She was practically molested by those— Ow! What the fuck?” he said as Chrissy swung her right arm across the center console into the backseat and backhanded him across the chest, hard.

“That wasn’t his fault. Had you not been there in the first place, none of this would have happened. It’s your fault, Slade.”

“Do you realize that if you’d been caught, you would have been arrested? She’s already put out three thousand dollars for your bail—did you expect her to do that again?”

“She would’ve survived. She’s loaded. She’s a doctor.”

“No, I’m not loaded!” Her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. “Not even a little bit. Have you seen my car? Do you even know what I do for a living? No, you know what—don’t even bother answering that. We’re here.” She hit the brakes hard as she pulled into Jack’s driveway. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I guess I’ll perform a few more stupidectomies and then head on home tonight.” Jack could see Chrissy’s eyes tearing up, and his heart broke for her.

“Stupidect-what?” Slade asked.

“Stupidectomies. The irritating procedures by which I bandage up stupid people for doing stupid things. Oh, never mind. Just get out of the car.”

She jumped out of the car and slammed the door. Unsure of what to do, Jack headed across the lawn back to his house. “You,” she called, pointing at Jack. “Follow me.”

Obediently he followed her into the house she’d grown up in. “Both of you sit down here.” She pointed to the couch, then went up the stairs.

“You’re a dick,” Jack whispered to Slade.

“I feel like we’re in detention or something. She’s being overly dramatic. What a drama queen.”

“A drama queen who saved your ass. Again!”

Chrissy came back downstairs lugging her backpack and set it on the floor. “Both of you, shirts off.” She was in a don’t-mess-with-me mood, and neither of them let out a peep. They just obeyed orders. She looked over the rims of her glasses, back and forth between the bare chests. “You first, since there’s more blood.” She pointed to Slade, used her finger to slide the glasses back up her nose, and immediately got to work cleaning and bandaging. It was clear she wasn’t being gentle, because Slade winced and let out a number of expletives. When she finished, she turned to Jack. She looked up at him. But her gaze was different than when she had looked at him before. It was gentler. He noticed a scratch above her right eye by her hairline. He reached up to touch it, but she flinched and moved back.

“You’re cut,” said Jack.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. Your hip wound reopened, again. Let me just change the dressing and bandage it up and then I’ll take a look at your nose and your eye.”

When she finished with his hip injury, she began to inspect his face. She kneeled between his thighs, and her big blue eyes with those long black eyelashes looked into his eyes. He hated to see the sadness in them. She cleaned his nose and stuffed it with cotton. She got up, went to the kitchen, and returned with small plastic bags of ice and a package of frozen peas. She tossed two small bags of ice at Slade and told him to put the ice on his eye while she finished mending Jack. Then she gently placed the bag of frozen peas on Jack’s swollen eye. “Hold it here.” Quietly he followed her instructions.

“Okay, all done.” She started packing up her things, then went upstairs again and came back a few minutes later with a small suitcase. First she pointed to Jack. “Keep putting ice on that eye, and keep your head forward until your nose stops bleeding. Remember to change the dressing on your gash tomorrow.” Then she pointed to Slade. “You may have a broken rib. But really, who cares—you made twenty-five grand. I’d like to ask you to try to not get arrested again, but, since that seems to be inevitable, I guess I’ll see you at your next arraignment. Though it seems like you should have enough money now to bail yourself out for a while. Bye, Slade. See you around, Jack. Sorry for all the trouble we’ve caused you in the last forty-eight hours.”

“Come on, Chris. Don’t leave. I’m sorry I was an ass. I guess … well, I seem to be an ass all the time, but I’ll do better. I promise,” Slade begged, his head back against the couch, looking up at the ceiling, the bags of ice held to his face.

Chrissy let out a large puff of breath but otherwise didn’t reply before shutting the door behind her. Jack thought he must have been hit harder than he’d realized, because he was not processing what had just happened.

“Dude? Did your sister just leave?”

“Looks that way.”

“You’re not going to stop her?”

“I tried. She never listens to me. She hates me, dude. I feel terrible that I asked her to post the money. How the hell was I to know she wasn’t making bank as a doctor? I guess I should’ve used my money for bail.”

“You guess? You’re a fucking dickhead.” Jack pushed himself off the couch, slapped the back of Slade’s head, and ran toward the front door, but she was already gone.

Rather than take his Jeep, he fumbled for the keys of his police cruiser, then drove off in it in search of Chrissy, his head throbbing. He scrolled for her phone number on his cell. He’d had it for years but never used it. He’d only known about her through Slade, and the details had been minimal, since Slade wasn’t a master conversationalist. Once he found her name, he called, but it went straight to voicemail—though when he heard her voice on the voicemail greeting he was relieved she hadn’t changed her number in the intervening years.

After an hour of driving, he admitted defeat and headed back home. But on his way back he caught sight of her car on the side of the road, not two miles away from his house. He released a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. Parking behind her, he walked toward the car and saw the spare tire that had been mounted to replace the flat tire had gone flat as well.

When he got to her door, he gently knocked on her window as to not startle her. As she ever so slowly turned toward the window, he immediately saw her puffy red eyes and the thick red indentation that marred her forehead from resting on the steering wheel. She reached for the window and rolled it down. She looked utterly defeated, and having known her his entire life, this was something he was completely unaccustomed to. Slade had always been Jack’s lifelong friend, a brother, really, but at the moment he wanted to break Slade’s kneecaps for having put this look into her eyes.

Leaning his forearms against the open window, he couldn’t help but reach over and stroke the red indentation on her forehead. “What are you doing out here?”

“Waiting on AAA again.” She sighed. “I wonder if they have frequent-user rates.”

“You need a new car.”

“Duh!”

He wanted to smile at her quick response, but she looked so damn sad.

He opened her door and extended his hand to help her out. “Come on.”

“I can’t. I have to wait for—”

“Just leave it. We’ll deal with it tomorrow. It’s been a long day. Let’s go home.”

“I’m not going back home—well, Slade’s home. I need to get my car fixed and get the hell outta this town. I shouldn’t have come back.”

“You probably shouldn’t have come back to help him. But I’m glad you did because I got to see you again. Anyway, you’re not driving anywhere tonight. Call AAA, tell them not to bother, and come home with me.”

“No way. Nothing’s changed. You’re a violent cage fighter who sleeps with women and never calls them again. I can’t get involved with you. I am not going to go home with you, and I’m certainly not sleeping with you. Last night was a mistake.”

“You couldn’t be more wrong about my history with women. Either way, I didn’t say anything about sleeping with you.”

“Oh. Um … I just assumed. Sorry. I …” Her smooth white cheeks crimsoned immediately.

“Don’t get me wrong, we are going to sleep together. That’s a given. Just not tonight. You’ve had a rough few days. Not to mention that my face hurts. Come on—I have a spare room.”

“Jack Daniels! I can’t believe you just said that. You’re outta your mind if you think I’m stepping out of this car and going anywhere with you, especially after what you just said. Pfft!” Chrissy huffed.

“You’re going to sit there and pretend there’s nothing between us? You know very well it’s just a matter of time. But fine, have it your way. You’re gonna hang out here in the dark in a car with a flat tire for God only knows how long? You’re exhausted and helpless, not to mention that any weirdo can come by and attack you and no one will ever know. Oh, and the alligators. There’s probably hundreds of alligators mere feet from you right this very moment. Have it your—”

“No, wait! Alligators?”

“Seriously, woman? That’s all you got from my little speech? How about the part about the weirdo attacking you?”

“I don’t like reptiles!” She stepped out of the car quickly and walked toward his car. “Please note that I am only going with you under duress, and you better not try any funny business. As a police officer, it is your civic duty to assist me. Got that, Daniels?”

Jack shook his head and snorted. “You’re leaving under duress, with protest. Some shit about civic duty and no funny business. Got it. Come on, crazy girl.”

He opened his car door, and when she sat down, he leaned his enormous body through the door and buckled her seatbelt for her. His face was inches from hers. On his way out, he slightly nuzzled her neck and inhaled.

“Are you smelling me?”

“Soap and vanilla.” He let out a little groan with closed eyes. “Yum.”

“I’m a big girl, you know. I could’ve buckled myself up. And it seems that in fact you didn’t note my previous comment about not being happy about this situation and no funny business.”

He gave her a playful smile. “Yeah, but what’s the fun in that?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ve never sat in a police car before. It’s a little scary.”

He laughed. “Why’s that?”

“I don’t know. I feel like I’ve done something wrong.”

“You feel naughty, don’t you?”

She didn’t answer immediately, but when she did her face was flushed. “Yeah, kind of,” she admitted uncomfortably.

“Interesting.”

“What does that mean?”

“Just an interesting observation. I’ll keep that in my vault.”

“You have a vault?”

“Oh, baby, I have quite the vault,” he said, pointing to his head. “There’s a whole bunch of very interesting observations I’ve made about you. When we’re finally naked together, I plan to unleash all the knowledge I’ve accumulated.” He looked over at her with a mischievous grin. She let out a little gasp.

They sat in comfortable silence for the few minutes it took them to arrive back at his house. He noticed that she glanced over at her house and shook her head.

Jack cut off the engine and turned his body toward her. “He loves you, you know.”

“No, Slade only loves Slade. I feel like an idiot. He says jump and I say how high. Since our dad died, I have this sense of obligation to help him. Do you know how many times I’ve had to send him money for one thing or another?”

“He’s a grown man, Chrissy. He can take care of himself. You’re enabling him every time you bail him out of some problem. And the strange thing is that in every other situation you are far from being a pushover. I will admit, you used to be easily manipulated, but not anymore. Now I can’t get you to stay put for one damn second, even if it’s for your own safety.”

“I know. You’re right. But he’s my only family and I owe it to him. What am I supposed to do? He never told me what he needed the money for. You think he’s in some sort of trouble?”

“Truthfully, I’m not sure. He’s always told me everything, and I don’t know what he’s keeping from me. You know, he makes a very good living as an MMA professional. Don’t underestimate the amount of money he makes. I don’t see why he’d need money so desperately that he’d call you to bail him out, but mark my words, I’m going to find out. Tomorrow I’ll talk to him.”

“Thanks, Jack. Not just for talking to him, but for everything. For taking me to the fight, for getting beat up on my account, for rescuing me yet again.”

“You’re kind of a pain in the ass. You seem to need rescuing a lot.” He smiled at her.

“Normally I’m a rather independent woman. I travel all over the world to the worst environments and manage just fine. I lived in Haiti after the earthquake for a year. Did you know that? We had no running water, there were looters, I was treating the worst injuries I’ve ever seen, and to top it off we had to be careful of mudslides. And I survived just fine. A few days back home and I’m a complete and total mess. A damsel in distress.”

“Of course I knew you were in Haiti. We may not have spoken over these last years, but I knew about you through Slade and worried about you. But you two didn’t keep in touch enough. There were times I asked about you and he didn’t seem to know where you were. And by the way, I wouldn’t go as far as calling you a damsel.”

She reached over and punched him playfully in the stomach.

“Ouch. Injured guy, remember?” He pointed to his hip and pouted. “The hot doctor who treated me told me I couldn’t fight until I’m healed. So the, ah, wrestling match you want has to wait.”

“You asked about me?”

He didn’t answer. Well, at least not verbally. His face softened as he looked into her eyes. His dimple came out in all its glory with a brilliant smile that made her heart pitter-patter.