Fighting Dirty
Page 78

“Instead of the philosophical speech, why don’t you get to the point?”
“All right.” She stared up at him. “A man came to see me. He said he knew you were a rapist and he wanted the details.”
Fucking reporters. “I bet your dad loved that.”
“Dad died two years ago. It’s just me now.”
Damn it. He wouldn’t tell her he was sorry. Her dad had made his life hell.
“I didn’t understand who the guy was. But he seemed gleeful about the possibility of you being a rapist. Even after I told him he was wrong, that...” She swallowed hard. “That I’d lied. He kept insisting. So after he left I looked you up. For years I’ve tried not to think about you, about what I’d done.”
“Ditto.” He’d blocked Lea and the accusations the best he could—but they’d never really been far from his thoughts.
How did a man shake off the charge of rapist?
She bumped her shoulder to his again. “It’s not much, but I can tell you about him. The man who came to see me, I mean. I know he thought himself anonymous, believing the lie and assuming I’d shore it up for him. He wasn’t pleased when I refused. When he finally left, I watched him and got the make of his car and his license plate number. And I can describe him to you.”
Excitement sparked down deep inside Armie, chasing off some of the bleak acceptance. Maybe he could still work this out.
Maybe he could get Merissa back.
He checked his watch, realized he’d miss Merissa leaving work and decided he’d just meet up with her at her house. “Got time for a ride?”
“To where?”
“There’s a lady I need to check on—and since she’s been threatened by supposed reporters looking for the nitty-gritty on my past, it’d be nice if I could share some good news with her.”
She studied his face and agreed. “All right. I owe you at least that much.”
“If we get the people threatening her, I promise, we’ll call it even.”
For only a second, grateful tears turned Lea’s eyes liquid. But she blinked, smiled and headed for the passenger side of his truck. “You always were one of the good guys.”
* * *
MERISSA DROVE SLOWLY through the old neighborhood. Each day it seemed to stay light longer. Spring would soon turn to summer. She exhaled, looking forward to more sunshine and milder weather.
Would she get to spend the summer with Armie?
Would she be noticeably pregnant?
Lost in thought, it seemed doubly startling when headlights suddenly flashed on behind her.
Close. Far, far too close.
With the memory of the last car that had trailed her, she blindly reached for her phone. She’d call her brother and—
The car rammed her, startling her so badly that she gave a short scream. The phone fell from her hand and slid off the seat to the floor. Squeezing the wheel, she frantically struggled to stay on the road. When she got rammed again, this time on the back right fender, her car jerked to the left, smashed into the curb and when she tried to correct it, she overshot to the other side of the road. She was still trying to correct her steering when the car shot around her, cut her off and stopped. Instinctively she slammed on her brakes to keep from colliding. Rubber burned and she came within inches of ramming into the other car.
Too fast for her to catch her breath, a man approached and jerked open her car door. She tried to scream but a hand clamped hard over her mouth, making her jaw ache.
He leaned in close until his hot breath washed over her face. In clear warning, he whispered, “Don’t.”
Oh my God. She knew the cold blue eyes staring into hers, the rough voice and the cruel attitude.
This was the man from the bank robbery.
Sheer terror narrowed her view until all she could see was his anticipatory smile. Blind with fear, Merissa struggled, striking out at him, clawing.
He released her mouth and backhanded her hard enough to nearly topple her in the seat. Dazed, she tasted her own blood as blackness closed in. Rough hands opened her seat belt and yanked her out. Her head still reeling, she half fell to the ground. The hands on her tightened, wrenching one arm as he dragged her across the rough pavement of the road toward the other idling car.
Merissa tried to get her feet under her but couldn’t. She started to scream, but he knotted a hand in her hair and cursed as he shoved her forward.
No! No, no, no.
“Fuckers,” she heard, and her mind reeled at the recognizable voice.
“Leese,” she whispered, and as the flicker of hope gained life, she said again, louder, “Leese!”
The man shoved her from him. She collided with the front of his car, then fell to the hard, gravel-strewn ground. Her elbow cracked on something, and she felt a searing burn on her cheek, but neither injury mattered. Numbness sank in, mingling with the awful shock.
She got her head up in time to see Leese attacking the man. How he was here, she didn’t know, but he threw hard, direct punches, demolishing the guy who’d grabbed her. When a second man got out of the car she scrambled toward her open door and dubious safety.
The sounds of curses and grunts, of flesh hitting flesh, assaulted her brain.
She needed to help Leese, but how?
Thanks to Cannon’s insistence, she had pepper spray in her purse, but both it and her phone had been dumped to the floor.
Inside her car she hit the locks with shaking hands, then quickly looked through the windshield. In the chaos, with her heartbeat thundering in her ears, it was hard to tell what was happening. Leese fought hard, but just as Armie had done, he took on both men.
Knowing she had to do something, Merissa laid on the horn. The noise was deafening, but she didn’t let up.
Soon the glow of nearby porch lights flickered on, two houses, then three, four, five.
Over and over, Merissa blared the horn until most of the street was awake and watching.
“I called the police,” someone yelled from a house. “They’re on their way!”
Leese, proving to be a maniac, held on to one man when he tried to flee. He jerked him around at the same time he threw his knee up, sending the guy back and into the side of the car. The bloodied man scrambled for the handle, screaming, “Go, go, go,” to his cohort.
The driver gunned it, hit the curb, almost struck another car and sped away. Leese stared after them and Merissa, horrified by the idea of being alone, threw open her door and stumbled out. “Leese!” She knew she sounded pathetic and panicked—because she was. “Leese, please!”
In the middle of the street, chest heaving, blood on his face and his hands still balled into fists, Leese turned to see her.
Merissa shook so badly she couldn’t stay upright and as her knees gave out, she slumped to sit on the curb just outside her car.
Oh God. She rocked, holding herself tight, watching as Leese started toward her.
He looked like walking fury, but after he crouched in front of her his expression changed. His hands were gentle as he tipped up her face, winced and smoothed her hair.
“Damn, honey, are you okay?” He stripped off his hoodie, then his T-shirt.
Merissa didn’t understand. He’d never called her an endearment before—and why was he undressing? But even more important than that... “How are you here?”
Carefully, he used his T-shirt to clean her face. “I was following you.” Chidingly, he whispered, “You should have known both Armie and Cannon would ensure you weren’t alone.”