Page 41 of Reclaiming Kendall

"Great!" he yells, slamming it down on the counter. "No one was supposed to be here, Will! This was supposed to be an in and out job!" he yells again.

My brain screams one thing as my heart says another. I saw the look on Will's face clear as day. He wasn't scared of being caught. That look of fear was for us both. This guy is fucking huge. He looks to be no less than twenty with veiny muscled arms and hair close-shaved to his head. There are a couple earrings in one ear and some in his face, making him look even more menacing.

When the stranger turns to Will, I step in front of him, "I called the cops when I saw your car out front. You’d better get the fuck out of my house."

An outraged expression scrunches his eyebrows as his eyes narrow into slits, "You’d better hope that's not true." Bravado only carries him so far, though, as I see him glancing back towards windows at the front of the house.

"This was a setup. You're going to pay for this you little shit!" he shouts, jumping to where Will is now hiding behind me.

I angle my body, so that I'm fully between them and drive my knee straight into his balls. This would've dropped him to the floor and given us a better chance at getting away, but at the last second, he shifts, rendering my one shot useless. A hard shove sends me into the counter sideways. It's enough to let the guy get his hands on Will. There's a sickening thud before he drops to the floor and covers his head with his hands.

The stranger gets one more hit in before I jump in again. Will sees me coming and stands to try and deflect attention. All it manages to do is get me punched. Later, I'm sure I'll remember where it hits, but in the craziness, one of them pushes me. It's hard to think of anything at all as my temple connects with the edge of counter.

I'm down on my hands and knees, holding my head that feels warm and sticky, when I hear the glorious sound of the gravel in the driveway. The stranger snarls and lands a kick in Will's stomach before taking off running towards where his car waits at the front of the house.

Planting my ass on the floor, I couldn't stand if I wanted to as my head swims with dizziness, "Will?"

I fight the sick feeling to search him out. His back is to me as he runs out the back door. I give up on holding in the tears flooding my eyes. Not just from my head that feels like it's splitting in two, but for Will, too. I want to live in denial and not admit what just happened.

Unfortunately, that's not an option. Especially as blood starts to trickle down the side of my face, and Lucas opens the door from the garage.

His voice is already calling out before he spots me, "Babe?"

When his eyes land on me, his face drains of color, and he's by my side in a flash, "What the fuck, baby? What happened?"

Between my crying and the pounding in my head, it makes it so hard to think, so I say the first thing that comes to mind, "Will." I mean that Lucas should go after him, but without knowing what happened, of course, it gets taken the wrong way.

Lucas rips the shirt off his back, leaving him bare-chested as he holds it against my head with one hand. The other has his phone against his ear. I know that he calls 911 and one of the guys, but I don't care which one it was. All I know is that he's taking care of me, and they'll be here soon. I rest my head back against the cabinet and let my eyes close.

"No, baby. We don't know how hard you hit your head. Don't close your eyes on me," he says as he peppers a few kisses to the side of my face that doesn't have blood caked to it.

Opening my eyes, I stare at my beautiful husband, getting lost in his sexiness before coming back to my senses, "It wasn't Will. I mean, it was, but it wasn't."

"Shhh, baby," he says, "You might be confused for a bit. Just stay calm for now, and you can tell us after we get a look at your head, okay?"

I try to nod without thinking and wince as it pulls at his shirt on my head. I think I may zone out for a few, because one second, we're alone in the kitchen, then the next an EMS crew is darting through the front door towards us. Lucas moves out of the way to make room for them, and a cop that followed them inside goes to talk to him.

There are hands in my face and on my body cleaning wounds and checking my blood pressure; which I'm sure fucking skyrockets when I hear the cop tell Lucas to turn around, so he can put cuffs on him.

"Wait," I call out, trying to stand.

Hands keep me sitting as their voices try to calm. It's not until Maverick and Grant storm through the front door seconds later, that I finally relax and let them finish their jobs. All it takes is a few clipped words from Mav, and Lucas is out of the cuffs again. Grant immediately makes his way over to us still propped against the counter. He kneels and takes the hand not occupied with a blood pressure cuff to lift to his mouth, kissing my palm.

I'm sure it's mere minutes before they're taking the cuff off. He's calmed my racing heart just from being here. The EMT that's been working on cleaning my head, declares that it's a good-sized cut, but he should be able to fix it up with some little butterfly stitches. Making it a point to tell us that they can take me to the hospital if that were what I wanted, he shows us how the little bandages work, leaving us to make the call. I could've saved him the time and told him I'm not going in that ambulance today. One hundred percent unnecessary. Shit, if I'd had a little bit longer, I could've gotten up and put the stupid butterflies on myself. Then a dark voice inside reminds me that Lucas getting here when he did was a blessing. Otherwise, Will might be lying right here beside me.

Refusing the hospital, I let them finish patching me up. As they get ready to leave, Grant helps me up off the floor before lifting me to the counter. Mav and, a still shirtless, Lucas hover behind the cop as he closes the distance between us, "Mrs. Michaels. Can you tell me what happened here today?"

I nod briskly before launching into the tale of my afternoon. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Mav's jaw clench, and his lips go straight as an arrow when I mention Will's name. The murderous look that passes over his face by the end is something I hate seeing and hope that I never do again.

The officer has a little recorder out taping my words but asks me to repeat details about the stranger and his car, taking time to write them down in his little leather notebook from his pocket.

"Well," he says, stuffing his pen and notebook back where it had come from, "I'm going to be honest with you folks. I know this kid, and it isn't his first rodeo with us. He's been arrested before for burglary. I'm not sure how much involvement your nephew has in this, but if he's in deep with this guy, it won't be good for him. I'm going to let my deputies know to be on the lookout for both of them, and I'll keep you posted as much as I can."

Mav thanks him before leading him out to the porch. Lucas and Grant take advantage and close ranks around me. I'm buried in their scent, and it brings a fresh wave of tears rolling down my face.

"I'm sorry," I tell them.

Lucas jumps like I've hit him, "What could you possibly have to be sorry for, baby?"

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