Theirs to Keep

C H A P T E R T H I R T Y

“GO HARD AT HIM!” DAKOTA shouted from the corner. “Come on, Merrick, you aren’t concentrating.”

Elle watched from the far side of the room, her brow furrowing as Dakota slapped his towel down onto the mat. She knew Dakota loved Merrick. They’d been friends for a long time. Nearly as long as Cade and Merrick. But he always got so worked up. It made her cringe because everything was always an emergency, and nothing Merrick ever did seemed to be good enough.

Maybe that was the way of it in the fighting world, but Elle hated it.

“If this was a real fight, he would have wiped the mat with you, and he’s in a different weight class, for Christ’s sake,” Dakota said in disgust.

Merrick turned his head just enough that he could look at her. Their gazes connected and held, and she held up her thumb in a ridiculously silly manner, but it was all she could think to do to let him know she believed in him.

His lips quirked up into a smile just about the time his sparring partner hit him. She flinched as Merrick reeled back and then focused his attention back in the ring.

Dakota’s face drew into a scowl, and he looked directly at Elle, shaking his head. Then he walked around the ring and took position in front of Elle so Merrick couldn’t see her and she couldn’t see Merrick.

For a moment, Elle sat in stunned silence. Dakota was blaming her for whatever he perceived as Merrick’s problem today? She’d been going to his training sessions since the very start. Merrick had missed several days after the fire. What did Dakota expect on his first day back? Perfection?

But then, really, would anything ever be good enough for Dakota?

When two of the other fighters who were standing ringside also turned to look at her, her cheeks burned, and she fidgeted self-consciously in her chair.

Was she a distraction? Should she have stayed at home? She just wanted Merrick to know he had her support.

A few minutes later, Merrick left the ring to go into the locker room, and Dakota immediately stalked in her direction. He tossed Merrick’s keys onto her lap, startling her as she scrambled to catch them before they fell off and hit the floor.

Dakota looked pissed off—and determined.

“Look, why don’t you head home for the day. I’ll bring Merrick home when we’re done. His concentration is shot to hell, and I need his head in the game before he gets himself hurt. With a month left before this fight, an injury could be devastating.”

She stared at him and then glanced down at the keys in her hand. The hostility in Dakota’s voice made her uncomfortable. What was she supposed to do? The last thing she wanted was to make a scene and wreck Merrick’s training session.

Without saying a word or giving Dakota the satisfaction of seeing how nervous he made her, she simply got up and walked away, her fingers curled tightly around those keys.

The sunlight nearly blinded her as she came from the much darker gym. She blinked, thinking she saw someone close to Merrick’s Hummer, but when her eyes adjusted, she didn’t see anything.

She climbed into the vehicle and turned the key in the ignition. It was another beautiful day with a crispness to the air that was welcome. She punched the button to open the sunroof and then contemplated her options.

Cade was in a meeting with clients, and Charlie was meeting with the insurance adjuster to get the check for the damage to the office building. She could either go sit in the newly appropriated, cramped office space, or she could go home to an empty house.

Either place she’d be alone, so she figured it was more welcome to just head home. She’d make lunch and wait for Merrick to finish and get home. And hopefully Dakota would just drop Merrick off and not stay.

Dakota had become testier and testier as it drew closer to the fight. Catherine had confided in Elle that Dakota was intense and that he didn’t mean anything by it but he took his role very seriously, and she admitted that he became unbearable even to her when it got down to the last weeks before a major fight.

Catherine, at least, had remained as sweet and supportive as she always had. But lately, Elle had felt like an intruder when she went to Merrick’s sessions with him. Even the other fighters looked at her like she didn’t belong.

Maybe she was being overly sensitive, but she hated the way she’d been made to feel today. She was embarrassed to have been kicked out of the gym like an unwanted nuisance.

She pulled into the drive of the house and sat there a moment before turning off the engine. She left the path into the garage open because the Hummer didn’t fit and it was where Cade parked his slightly smaller SUV.

She got out, fiddling with the keys to find the right one for the door and walked through the open garage toward the kitchen door.

Just as she started to insert the key into the lock, an arm slid around her neck and yanked her back against a hard chest. The grip on her neck was so firm she couldn’t breathe, and before she could scream, a hand clamped down hard over her mouth.

She began to kick wildly as she was dragged backward against the wall. Pain shocked her into silence when her attacker punched her in the side.

“Shut the fuck up and listen to me,” the man hissed in her ear. “I have a message for your boys, and I want you to deliver it word for word. You got me?”

She nodded, her head spinning from lack of oxygen and the pain in her side. His hand slid intimately up her body, lingering over her belly and then moving underneath her breast.

She began to struggle again, refusing to allow this son of a bitch to molest her in her own garage.

Her head flew back when he grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked. Tears sprang to her eyes as her neck craned at an impossible angle. With his free hand, he punched her again, and she nearly blacked out.

Dragging her limp body back up his, he forced his mouth close to her ear.

“You tell your boys that they fucked with the wrong person. If they don’t drop the charges, I’ll be back, and I’ll fuck you up so they can’t even recognize you. You understand?”

“Y-yes,” she gasped out.

He jerked her around and then backhanded her, snapping her head back. She tasted blood, and this time when she staggered, he let her go down.

She fell in a heap on the garage floor, trying desperately to squeeze air into her lungs. Her side was hurting so badly that she worried he’d broken her ribs.

The one word that echoed over and over in her mind was no. No! This couldn’t happen to her again.

Images flashed in her mind. The memory of being pushed roughly to the ground. Her face pressed into the dirt. The shock and…betrayal.

Betrayal.

She’d known her attacker.

It was someone she’d trusted.

She curled into a tight ball, hoping to protect the most vulnerable parts of her body. Pain lanced through her ribs once more as he kicked her.

Oh God, what could she do? She was helpless.

Rage exploded inside her. She was not going to be some helpless victim who couldn’t even fight back.

She rolled quickly, hoping to catch her attacker off guard. And apparently she did. Ignoring the pain in her ribcage, she righted herself and lunged for the crowbar mere feet away on the floor.

She grabbed it and came up swinging.

He howled in pain when she connected with his face. His head snapped back, and blood spattered onto the concrete below them.

Not giving him a chance to break away, she nailed him again, this time in the ribs.

He doubled over, holding his midsection as blood dripped from his mouth.

“How’s it feel, you son of a bitch?” she raged.

She hit him again, and he dropped like a stone onto the garage floor. For a long moment, she stared down at him, still holding the crowbar over her head.

Then it slid from her grasp and clattered loudly at her feet. Her knees buckled, and she went down. The material of her pants ripped where her knees scraped the concrete, and then she pitched to the side, every breath she took excruciating.

For a long moment, she simply lay there, trying to gain control over the pain that wracked her body. Then she became aware of the fact that she had a body lying in her garage. She may have killed a man.

She reached out, groping blindly for the purse that had gone flying when the man had grabbed her. Her fingers scraped across it, and she fumbled for it, dragging it close enough that she could dig her cell phone out of it.

Every breath was agony, and her hands shook so violently that it took her three attempts just to punch in 911.

Finally she put the phone to her ear, and when the dispatcher came over the line, she simply croaked, “Help me, please. I think I just killed a man.”