Page 15 of Fight for You
I glanced into the rearview mirror again. Streetlights danced over Jordyn’s slumbering face—contorted in a fearful sleep.Darkness.Light.Darkness.Light. While I knew that the darkness could never overcome the light, I hoped our fragmented relationship would progress once I got her home. I patted the plastic bag on the inside of my blazer. It contained a cloth dosed in chloroform that would help stop her from making a big mistake when she wasn’t thinking straight. Heck, for the brunt of my life,Ihadn’t been thinking straight. The devil had used my mind like a playground. No, a soccer ball. At that, the cloth burned against my chest, much like shame and guilt might.
Would I use the liquid compound on Jordyn?
Damn right I would if the situation called for it. I was no longer the crazy boy who got the crap beaten out of him in high school for just trying to keep his head down and get an education. Nor was I the fifteen-year-old who beat a stranger to death with a bat because that man had slipped his way onto Clan MacKenzie land, and invasive thoughts told me he would take me again.
Taken.
Taken.
Taken.
That sole act of protecting Little Brody’s future wife, Justice,had made my family happy.Ahem, not my family. Those MacKenzies. To their dismay, I’d drawn back into my shell after saving Justice, only to cling to Willow in high school when I felt Camdyn would be the death of her. But now, I knew who I was.
A man on a mission.
Not just any mission—themission. More important than black ops in the Marines, more urgent than saving the other kids.
Save Jordyn.
The hard part had just begun. She wasn’t just someone I failed—she was someone I’d revive.
7
SANTA BARBARA
Jordyn
Days Free: 0
As I awoke,a sigh escaped my lips, traveling throughout my entire body in a wave that stimulated every nerve ending.Euphoric. Felt like I had a day off from living a life not my own. Then I realized the bright sunny day and the birds chirping must’ve just been residuals of my dream. My eyes blinked, adjusting to the dark room. I jolted up into a seated position on a bed that felt like sleeping on clouds. Feet and hands pushed down the sheets, then I got up.
“Eek!” I screamed. The bed sat higher from the ground than I suspected.
“Wh—”
I started running, only to trip and fall over something massive and warm. Instead of being tangled in the sheets, I was tangled limbs and body with someone else. My fists went flying. Given my interest in trivia, I remembered an article about the anxiety foster youth feel when they first wake up in a new placement. Their rawfear now consumed me. I wondered if one pervy foster parent or my present existence was worse.
Perhaps I’d lost it, or maybe my late twenties made this lifestyle unsustainable. I didn’t want to live like this anymore. My first punch hit plush carpet. The next one met solid muscle. I targeted that, snarling. “Get away from?—”
“Jordyn, wait,” the man groaned.
Scottish.Oh, no.No.No. I scrambled up and attempted to lash out a foot. Before it could connect with a muscular body, the Scot seized my ankle. I dropped again. How could he see in absolute darkness? I fell in a heap, my chin slamming against his chest.
Arms wrapped around me. Bound firmly, escape was impossible.
“If I let you go, will you stop? Please?”
“No!” I growled, trying to wriggle out of his clutch.
“Blinds open,” he said.
Sweet, blessed light swept in from three all-glass walls. The first cinders of anxiety crashed. Long strands of hair masked much of Jamie’s eyes, but even still, those uncut turquoise jewels twinkled. I gasped—almost gasped. Instead, I pushed down the instant attraction with a deep swallow. If that was any better.Oh goodness.I was still in his arms, arms that gripped firm, not tight and unforgiving. With arms this strong, he could squeeze me to a pulp if he wanted.
“Let. Me. Go. Jamie!”
Jamie puffed through his mouth. Hair pushed away from his face. “So, youdoremember me?”
“The boy with the Scottish accent? Hell yes.”
