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  “Get up and fight,” Ethan demanded. Blood pumped hotly. He wanted a fight, not this piece of shit that wouldn’t even stand up. The image of Shelby curled in a ball and crying slammed into his head.

  He gave him a good kick and slammed his fist into his face. Blood spurted, and Andrew slid silently to the ground. He gritted his teeth and remembered Shelby’s warnings. That was the only thing that made him stop.

  He nodded to Jasper and Ace, got on his bike, and took the long way to his girl.

  He was still keyed up, despite his attempt at calming down, when he walked through her front door. She sat in the living room, her knees drawn up to her chest, clutching her phone. Her eyes were too big in her face as she looked up at him.

  He knew immediately why. He should have done something more permanent to the asshole.

  “Where were you?”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “A strip club, but you know that already. So what else did Andrew tell you?”

  Surprised flitted across her face. She expected he would lie, and that grated him hard after last night. “Why were you there?”

  “Saw that car in the parking lot as I was driving by. Decided to wreak some revenge.”

  “You were supposed to leave it alone.”

  He placed his hands on the arm of the sofa as anger flooded him. “I don’t leave things alone. He got off easy. Trust me. The only thing that saved him from more damage was you asking me not to do it at all. So answer my question. What else did he tell you?”

  Her bare feet dropped to the floor, her hair was loose about her shoulders, and all he wanted to do was kiss those perfect lips. Instead, he waited for the third degree he could feel coming.

  “He said you seemed to know the girls quite well,” she said softly. Of course his girl wouldn’t yell, cuss, and scream. She would talk it out like discussing a menu.

  “Yeah. I know them. I know the owner, I know the bouncers. They are Mick’s friends. And before you even ask, yes, I went there often enough they know me by name.”

  That made her jerk back. “I’m not sure what to do with that.”

  “You know I grew up in the foster system. I lived on the streets for two years as a teenager before the cops caught me jacking cars. I’ve been addicted to drugs, and I don’t have a high school diploma. Fighting is just a way of life, and I had my first girl before I even knew what the hell I was doing. Going to strip joints seems low on that list of shit.” He gritted his teeth as her face paled. “What the hell did you really expect when you saw, with your own fucking eyes, how truly whacked I really am?”

  Tears made slow trails down her cheeks, and he exploded.

  “I’m not a good guy, Shelby. I thought you got that. I won’t fuck around on you, and I won’t hit you. Someone hurts you, I hit them. Simple. You told me last night you wanted me to be yours. Well, this is what you get.” He wanted to hit something so damn bad, he clenched his fists to keep from putting holes in her walls. “I’ve never seen judgment in your eyes. Ever. Until now. And that is seriously fucking with my head.”

  Chapter 15

  Shelby froze in place and had no idea what to do with all the information he was throwing at her. Fury rolled off of him in waves, and it scared her. Not because she thought he would hurt her, but because she was so out of depth here.

  Because…she loved him.

  Last night sealed the deal. She was in over her head with a guy who stole her breath, rocked her world, and broke her heart. All at the same time. The text Andrew sent her was meant to hurt, and it did. The idea of someone else in his arms made her psychically ill. She hadn’t answered the text, just waited until Ethan got home. Hoping and praying Andrew was lying.

  She didn’t mean to open all this ugly with her questions. And she really wanted him to just scoop her up and kiss her so they could forget all of it.

  He was right, though. She judged him when he said he’d frequented strip clubs. She thought it disgusting and degrading, and she couldn’t believe he would go to those places.

  “Fucking say something!”

  She jumped back and wiped at her face. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Yell at me. Cuss me. Something. Don’t sit there quiet as a mouse with tears in your eyes.”

  She stood and balled her fists. “What do you want from me, Ethan? You want me to say it’s okay that you went to strip clubs? Because I’m not going to, and I don’t want you to ever go to another one. We’re just getting to know each other, and I might have known some of your history, but you throw it all at me at once…I don’t know how to process it all.”

  He glared, his eyes dark and stormy. “Process? I’m not a fucking machine. You don’t process me. You feel me.”

  He stalked right up to her, gripped her face, and claimed her lips. Intense. Angry. Nothing sweet or nice in the way he took control. She gripped his wrists and hung on for dear life. His tongue tangled with hers. His lip ring bit into her lip as he kissed her. She whimpered, her body on fire.

  And oh how he made her feel.

  There wasn’t temperate or moderate with Ethan. He was sharp and spicy and meant to burn.

  “You so fuck with my head,” he growled and backed her against a wall.

  She ran her hand up under his shirt and even though the scent of that club clung to him, she wanted to replace it with her scent. He was hers. No amount of doubt or other crap could change it.

  Her head fought him.

  Her body craved him.

  Her heart was too far gone.

  She nipped at his ear as his lips left a hot trail down her neck.

  He lifted his head and wedged a knee between her thighs. She wanted to press closer, but his hands slid over her face.

  “So fucking soft.”

  He spoke quietly, but she didn’t think the words were for her benefit. Matter of fact, his entire demeanor changed. He was still angry. His eyes were nothing but hard glints of coal staring back at her, but his touch was reverent. She gripped his shirt, attempting to pull him closer, but he had her pinned, with space between them.

  “Ethan?”

  The rough pads of his fingers traced her jaw, her lips, her nose. He tilted his head one way, then another. Her heart in her throat, she didn’t understand this change. Panic crept in like an ugly monster.

  “I need air. Be in the barn.” He released her, turned on his heel, and slammed out the door.

  Oh, cripes.

  She sagged against the wall. What did this mean? He had wanted her. She’d felt it. Mad, she may have been, but she still wanted him. With every fiber. And he had walked away. Air. He needed air. She could deal with that. She took a deep breath.

  Several hours later, he still hadn’t come in. How many times did she go to the back window to see if the light was still on in the barn? Twenty? Fifty? All she knew was she was wearing a path between the living room and the kitchen. Her head hurt from trying to pick through their conversation and straining for the sound of his bike. It was late. She was tired.

  She wasn’t about to go out there. He said he needed air. That meant space. Something she did not want, but how did one fight against someone like him? She hadn’t a clue. Eventually, she slipped into bed while silent tears seeped into her pillow.

  Tomorrow would be better.

  She woke with blurry sunlight filtering through the gauzy curtain. She shivered and turned, reaching for a body that wasn’t there. Lifting her head, she saw an indent on the pillow, remembered his arms had been wrapped around her. He’d been here. For how long, she didn’t know. But he’d been here, and that was enough.

  She got up and padded through to the kitchen looking for him, when she saw the barn was open again. Hope deflated. She took a quick shower and decided to tackle the pile of stuff she’d bought for her house but hadn’t had time to put out.

  A few hours later, she still hadn’t seen him, but she had to go to work. She headed down to the barn to see him working. On what, she wasn’t sure, but he
was dirty and greasy.

  “Ethan?”

  He didn’t look up. “Yeah.”

  “I have to go to work.”

  “Okay.”

  He still didn’t look up.

  “That’s it?”

  “You need something?” He twisted on a bolt but didn’t look at her.

  “I guess not. Bye.”

  He picked up a hammer and hit the wrench to move the bolt. “Later.”

  She all but ran to her car. She sat in it a few moments trying calm the queasiness in her stomach. This was so not good.

  Another day passed. Another repeat of the previous day. Her nerves were stretched to the limit. She’d had all she could take of his silence. He’d totally shut her out. She needed him. He’d been hiding in the barn for two days. She was done with it.

  She picked up her cell on the way out the back door when there was a knock on the front one. Surely he wouldn’t knock? Just the thought pissed her off. She turned the lock and yanked open the door.

  And stilled as blue eyes stared at her.

  “Hello, Shelby.”

  She forced herself to swallow and was so glad there was a door between them. A flimsy wooden screen door, but something was better than nothing.

  “What do you want, Andrew?”

  One arm was braced on the door, and he appeared relaxed. She knew better. The ice in his gaze gave it away.

  “Thought we needed to chat. Your freak did this.” He pointed to his face that was black and blue. His lip was busted and his eye swollen.

  “I don’t want to talk to you. I’ve already said everything I wanted to say.” She held no remorse for his bruises.

  “I think we do have a lot to talk about. See, you’re going to come home, and we are going to get married.”

  “No. We’re not.” Her stomach clenched. This was absurd, and she was tired of no one listening to her. “This is over. It should have never started. I never wanted to date you. I sure as heck never wanted to marry you. My parents pushed and shoved, making me think I had no choice.” All her frustration boiled to the top. “I have a choice. And I’m not going anywhere.”

  “What happened to the girl who did what she was told? This isn’t the Shelby I know.”

  “Because you never knew the real me. You never cared to. No one did.” She crossed her arms and blew out a breath. “Just leave. I’m done with this and done with you.”

  Her anger turned to fear in a heartbeat when he tried to jerk the wooden door open. It was locked, but a small hook and eye wasn’t much.

  “Leave.” She held up her phone. “Or I’m calling Ethan.”

  His face turned red. “That freak. You would pick him over me?”

  “Every time,” she said without pause.

  She jumped back and held down the Home button on her phone until it beeped. “Call Ethan.”

  Okay. Calling Ethan.

  Andrew yanked and tore the flimsy latch out of the wood. She turned to run toward the back door. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and snatched her head back. Her phone went flying. She had no clue if the call went through or not. He shoved her face first into a protruding corner of the wall, and spots swam before her eyes.

  “Do you spread your legs for that fuck? Tell me, are you a cold limp fish with him too?”

  He spun her around, and the sting of his fist in her face had her sliding down the wall. Her mind scrambled, trying to ward off the blows, but he gripped her arm and wrenched it back. Pain exploded through her body, and she screamed.

  He crushed her face with his hand. “Let’s see how cold you still are.”

  He shoved her over the arm of the couch, her ass in the air. She couldn’t move, with her limp arm hanging loose and his hand pinning her other behind her back. She fought to stay conscious and think of anything that would stop him.

  “Ethan,” she yelled.

  He pulled her back, squeezed her throat until she gasped for air, then pushed up her shirt and squeezed her breast. She clawed at his arms and twisted her body.

  “No one is here, bitch. Just you and me. And your screams.”

  “Just let me go,” she rasped.

  “Oh, I will.” He flicked out a pocketknife and waved it in front of her face. “After we play for a bit. Then you can stay here with your shack of a house and mutant of a boyfriend.”

  He cut her shirt in half and laid the flat part of the blade against her skin. Dizziness and nausea combined with the agony of her arm sent her into a spiral.

  This couldn’t be happening.

  He drove her face into the couch cushion and kicked her legs apart. The cold blade flicked between her legs, and her shorts were cut, exposing her to him. A surge of adrenaline made her push up. She kicked at his legs. A burning slap across her ass made her cry out.

  Despite the pain, she kept fighting. Blind from her swollen eyes, she kicked and screamed. Something hit her on the back of her head, and stars burst through her brain.

  *

  Ethan cursed, threw a wrench across the garage, then strode partway down the hill until he saw the clear ripples of the pond. He’d decided. As soon as Andrew and John left, he was gone. He’d known it would come to this, but damn it, he hadn’t expected this raw ache to settle like a knife in his chest. She deserved better. He wasn’t good for her or anyone. He ran a hand through his hair and huffed. She got her hooks in deep without him even noticing. When he let her go, those hooks were going to leave some ugly scars. His phone rang from the barn, but he was in no hurry to answer it.

  He made his way through the woods until he reached the barn and picked up his phone. A voicemail from Shelby. Why the hell would she be calling him when she could just walk down here?

  He leaned against the bench and hit play. He frowned. Muffled voices, a crash, and then a scream. His heart thumped in his chest as he shoved his phone in his pocket and took off at a dead run to the house. He flung open the door and followed the voices and cries to the living room.

  Andrew had Shelby pinned over the arm of the couch and was unbuttoning his pants. Ethan slammed his body into his, and they hit the door. Glass shattered. Fury clouded his vision. The roaring in his ears drowned out reason. The fucker never even got a chance to swing at him, and he didn’t care. The man deserved to die.

  “Ethan,” Shelby cried.

  He whipped around to see she had fallen to the floor. Her eyes were swollen shut, one arm hung at an awkward angle, and her clothes hung in pieces. Blood matted her hair. She swayed, and he rushed down to catch her before she hit the floor.

  “Shelby? Baby?”

  Her only answer was a whimper.

  He yanked out his phone and called 911.

  His pulse beat double time as he held his girl while he talked.

  He rattled off the address and told them what happened. He only looked at Andrew once to make sure he was still unconscious. The urge to kill him escalated while her blood seeped into his clothes.

  “She has a head injury. Hurry.” He looked down at her black and blue face and took a deep breath. “They said for me to keep talking to you. Are you awake, Brown Eyes?”

  He touched her head, and the slight movement made her moan. He tried to pull her clothes to cover her nakedness, but her shirt and bra were cut right up the middle. He shifted a bit and plucked a light throw off her couch and laid it over her.

  “The ambulance is coming, and they will take care of you, okay, darlin’?”

  He never cried. Not since he could remember, but tears threatened. He picked up his phone and sent a quick text to Zak.

  Need you, man. Urgent.

  “Texted Zak. He will come.” Time ticked at a slow crawl, and he wondered where the hell help was. “You will be all right.”

  He hoped he was right. Because right now, she was so still. Her lips were pale except where blood dried on her lip. He focused on her chest rising and falling. As long as she breathed, so could he. What if that call hadn’t gone through? He swiped a hand over his face and
held on to her small hand while he shook in disbelief.

  Sirens wailed in the distance, and he took a deep breath.

  “They’re here now. Everything’s going to be fine.”

  Her hand tightened in his briefly, before going slack, and her lips moved. “Ethan.” Nothing but a faint whisper.

  Holy hell.

  Chapter 16

  He didn’t want to let her go, but the paramedics assured him that they would take care of her.

  “Shelby, the EMT’s are going to take care of you, babe. I have to let you go to let them do their job.” As gently as he could, he laid her on the floor, so the team could assess her.

  “Sir, we need to talk to you.”

  He met the gaze of the police and rose unsteadily to his feet. They motioned him farther away from Shelby. It killed him to do so, but he didn’t fight them. He relayed the call he received and what happened when he came inside.

  “So you’re saying this man,” the cop pointed at a still unconscious Andrew, “was attacking Ms. Renner?”

  “Yes.” Ethan kept looking at Shelby. Her whimpers and small cries made his skin crawl.

  “What are you doing to her?” he demanded, totally ignoring the cops.

  “We had to start an IV,” an EMT said.

  “Fuck.” He tapped his leg and his boot. Shoved a hand through his hair and shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

  “Did you say your last name was Tackett?”’

  He breathed heavily and nodded. He couldn’t concentrate on what the police were saying and only snagged bits and pieces of the conversation. When he figured out they were debating on who hurt her, his patience snapped. “I know what you think. But Andrew attacked her. Not me.”

  “Does she know this man?”

  “He’s her ex-fiancé.”

  “I see.”

  Ethan gritted his teeth in agitation and dug his phone out. “You don’t believe me. Listen to the voicemail I got. I was down at the barn. My truck is there. I have grease on me, dude. Andrew’s pants are undone. I ain’t who you want. And I will go with her when she goes to the hospital. I won’t let her be alone.”