Chapter 3

3

Striker drew in a deep breath. He wasn’t ready to die. This fight was unfair, but most fights were. He had to find a way to get out of this situation. If only he had one other guy willing to stand up with him. But this wasn’t his stomping grounds, and his luck had run out.

The pair fighting with the abuser looked at each other, their smiles growing. Big Dude nodded as they signaled each other. Striker could see plainly what they were doing and was ready for the next attack from Knife Guy .

The man lunged, knife first. Striker leaned low and swept his leg, tripping him, then pushed him hard, shoving him to the ground. Now he had Knife Guy behind him and Big Dude rushing him. There wasn’t any way he could escape the punch flying at his face.

Bam!

The solid blow to his face had him staggering. Knife Guy was in the process of climbing to his feet but was still down. Big Dude was winding up to hit again.

He had a plan; it wasn’t good, but it was a plan to not die. Then the woman who he’d tried to save rushed over, getting between him and the big beefy man.

“Don’t,” she roared. “Leave him alone.”

“Need a pussy to fight for you,” Big Dude barked.

She growled low before screaming. “I’m not a pussy, you asshole.”

Her attitude was off the charts—he gave her an A for that—but this wasn’t a place for her. These two guys weren’t gentlemen, and he feared they wouldn’t care if she was hurt.

He pulled her back, stepping in front of her. “I’ve got this.”

“They aren’t fighting fair. They have a knife,” she spit out.

Right then Knife Guy jumped up and rushed them from his side. No way in hell would he allow this woman to get hurt more than she already was. Striker turned, angling toward Knife Guy, and kicked, knocking the knife from the man’s hand. He pulled Knife Guy in close and punched him hard. Knife Guy crumpled to the ground. That only left Big Dude.

Striker stepped closer to Big Dude and prepared for a hit, but without Knife Guy to back him up, the jerk lifted his hands and shook his head.

“Hey, I don’t want any trouble. You know, I was just standing up for my friend.”

“Bullshit. You were deep in the middle of trouble and weren’t fighting fair. You and your pals need to get out of here,” Striker stated before spitting on the ground in front of the jerk.

The man grabbed his friend, half carrying him, half dragging him, as they made their way to an old rusted-out car.

The woman he’d stepped in to help came over, a worried look on her face. Her lips thinned out even more as she stared at his arm. “That cut looks nasty.”

He waved his hand, dismissing her worry. “I’m fine.”

“No, come on. There’s a pharmacy not too far from here. I’ll get you cleaned up.”

The pain in his arm bothered him, but he could take care of it himself. He wanted to spend more time with her. He shook his head, which only amplified the dizziness he’d experienced from the few punches he’d taken. “Sure. My truck is over here.”

“You okay to drive?”

He pulled out his keys, forcing himself to steady. “Sure am.” Striker opened the door for her, but before she stepped in, he put his hand on her arm. “So, what’s your name?”

Her lips twitched up a little and the skin around her eyes softened. “Shannon.”

“Well, Shannon, it’s nice to meet you. People call me Striker.”

He studied her face, thinking she needed ice for her eye. What a pair they made. Bruises for her, and his arm was still bleeding. The people at the pharmacy might freak out, but the last thing he wanted was to head to a hospital. Jesus, the first night on leave and he’d already gotten in a bar fight with three guys. He stepped around the truck, thinking he needed to slow down.

“You okay?” he asked as he slid into the driver’s seat.

“I am now. Thank you. I had no clue he was such a jerk. My friend set us up. I’m not sure why he believed we would have sex on the first date.”

He hated scumbags like the guy who’d hit Shannon. He’d had his ups and downs with women, but not once had he ever hit one of them. And every guy knew sexy time on a first date was iffy, or they should know that.

At a stoplight, he glanced at her, worry filling him. He didn’t really want to go back to that bar. “So was your car back there?”

She shook her head. “Um, no. I took a shared ride.”

“Oh. Did you want to order another one? I mean, I got you into my truck and didn’t even ask what you wanted.”

Her lower lip trembled, and she shook her head. The light turned green, and he took off, driving up another few blocks before he found the pharmacy. He pulled into the lot and cut the engine.

“I can’t call anyone or order a car. My phone is in his car.” Her whispered words were filled with sadness.

“What?” A new round of anger struck. “We should go back there and get it.”

“He’s gone. I don’t know what to do.”

“We’ll get you another one?” he suggested.

“I can’t. My dad wouldn’t understand that. I’ll figure it out.”

She looked even more overwhelmed. Maybe later in the week, he’d find a way to buy her a burner phone.

He stepped out of his truck and rushed around, but she already had her feet on the ground. Earlier, he’d been concerned with her well-being. Now he wasn’t so much worried about her safety and took a long look at her in the pharmacy’s harsh fluorescent light. Even with the gray cast of the light, she looked amazing in her rose-hued dress and two-inch heels.

When his gaze met hers, she lifted her brows. “You don’t look so good.”

He shrugged. “I’m fine.”

“That’s BS. You look pale.”

He pocketed his keys, and pain shot up his arm. “It’s the lighting.”

Shannon shook her head, and her lips thinned. “No, you look bad. There’s an urgent-care place next door.”

He took a step away from his truck. “I don’t—” His knees gave out and almost buckled. Shannon moved fast, propping him up.

“That’s it. Let’s head over there. Come on. Walk with me.”

She led him inside and helped him check in. He handed over his ID and insurance card. No other patients were waiting to be seen, so they took him right back since he was still bleeding.

“Well, what happened here?” the doctor asked as he stepped in, his gaze on Striker’s injured arm.

“It’s not bad. Just a scratch,” Striker said, trying to make light of the situation. “Seriously, it’s nothing.”

The doctor washed his hands at the sink and pulled on a pair of gloves. “If it wasn’t bad, you wouldn’t be in here. Let me look at what we have.”

The doctor had the nurse clean the wound. Blood oozed from his arm, spreading on the cloth below. Maybe it was worse than he’d suspected.

He glanced up, catching Shannon’s gaze. She hadn’t left, which amazed him. She didn’t have to stay, but here she was still by his side.

With the wound cleaned, the doctor was back by his side. “I’m glad you came in. You need stitches. You’ll need an antibiotic too.”

Shannon stepped close and held his other hand. The doctor gave her a long look, then glanced back to Striker.

“Striker didn’t hit me,” Shannon blurted out.

“So, what happened?” the doctor asked as he readied his equipment.

“Striker knocked out the guy who hit me.”

The doctor lifted his brows, his gaze on Striker. “So the guy who hit you, he did this?”

“No,” Shannon added. “There were three of them. It was an unfair fight, but Striker won.”

The doctor poked at his arm with a sterile instrument before he began the task of stitching him up. First was a shot to deaden the pain; the second was an antibiotic .

“Is your tetanus up-to-date?” the doctor asked.

“Yes, sir. It sure is. Everything is up-to-date,” Striker said.

“Good. Now, then, you should feel the pull but not the pain.”

Striker gave a half smile and held on to Shannon’s hand. She flinched as the doctor stuck the needle into his arm. She looked more worried about the stitches than he was, which was a little funny.

“Why are you laughing?” the doctor asked.

“Nothing really. Thanks for stitching me up. Looks good.”

Shannon squeezed his hand. “The stitches do look good.”

The doctor’s lips crooked up, and he stared proudly at his handiwork. “Thank you. I think you’re all done. Do you need a note for work?”

“I’m on leave for another few days. I should be fine.”

The doctor nodded, and his lips turned down. “Okay. Take it easy. No more knife fights.”

“I’ll try.” Striker stood up ready to leave.

“Hold on there, cowboy. The nurse will bring in your prescription. If you need anything, we’re here all week.”

Striker chuckled. “Hopefully I won’t need your service again.”

After paying his copay, they headed out. Shannon held the door open for him, and he was about to say something about being able to do everything on his own but held silent. The shot and the pain were starting to affect him, and he didn’t want Shannon to bail. Actually, he wanted to spend more time with her.

“So, where to? Do you want me to take you home?”

“It’s far from here. All the way up in North Charleston. I just—I live with my dad. He’s going to go ballistic.”

“I’m sure my dad would be pissed if my sister came home beaten up. The guy would need to hide out for months.”

Shannon shook her head. “No, he’ll be mad that I made the guy angry.”

Striker stopped walking, and so did she. She turned to face him, her eyes wide as she stared up at him. He moved fast, pulling her into a gentle hug. His throat closed with emotions when her arms went around his waist.

“I can’t imagine being that stupid. I’m sorry,” Striker choked out.

She shrugged, and he stepped back. His awareness of how sexy she was grew with each second he spent with her. He shouldn’t have pulled her into his arms. Now he knew how good she felt up against him.

Shannon was small; her heels added a few inches to her height, but the top of her head only came to his chin. Her dark lashes were long, her lips full now that she wasn’t worried. She looked kissable, even with the cut lip. His gaze traveled over her face, taking in her beauty once again. He’d never really thought about anyone this intensely before. He wanted her fingers on his chest as he kissed her, and then he wanted more.

Her gaze warmed, and desire filled him. He had to push it away or risk scaring her. Instead of kissing her lips, he leaned in and brushed his lips over her forehead then backed up and watched her face.

“This may be stupid, but I swear I’ll behave. Stay with me, and then you can figure out what to do in the morning.”

Her breath hitched as worry crossed her face. She searched his eyes for a long moment. “You won’t do anything?”

“No. I swear, I’ll behave. I know you don’t know me, but I’m not going to try anything.”

Shannon closed her eyes, and pain slid across her features before she opened them and pinned him with a hard stare. Too much rode on this. He shouldn’t need her to stay, but he did. Though he’d just met her, he needed her in his life more than he needed air.