Captured at Nightfall (Capture My Heart Love Story) Page 3

  “That’s mine.” Her voice felt hoarse.

  He turned back to her and she met his mossy green eyes.

  The merc?

  She dropped her gaze, stretched trembling fingers toward him. “Please. Can I have my stuff back?”

  He was holding her driver’s license. “Your name’s Allison?” His eyebrows rose.

  “Yes.” She wriggled her fingers. Please, just give me the damn purse, already.

  When he finally gave it to her, she squashed it against her chest. “Thank you.”

  He knelt down in front of her. “I’m just checking out your face, okay?”

  She nodded.

  Cool fingertips prodded the swollen golf ball beneath her eye. “Fuck,” he muttered. “You’re going to need stitches. Think you can walk?”

  Allie looked down at her legs and wriggled her toes. “I think so.”

  His arm anchored beneath her armpit to steady her as she tried to put pressure on her foot. She winced and looked down. Her ankle was swollen. Probably twisted. Hopefully not broken.

  “The cops are pulling up. Let’s get you out of this alley and away from these piece-of-shit animals so we can get you cleaned up.”

  With his help, Allie stepped around the limp forms of her attackers. Some of their arms were bending the wrong way.

  “Won’t they get away if they wake up?”

  He shook his head. “Got someone on them.” At his words another fighter’s head peeked out the doorway. When his eyes ran over Allie his mouth tightened. She dropped her gaze, focused on putting one foot in front of the other. Her legs were noodley and the rush of fear was still swirling around inside her belly, making her whole body vibrate. Heat washed over her scalp and she fought to stay conscious. Her knees gave out and she fell against the merc.

  “Woah.” He pulled her up into his arms. “Is it okay if I just hold you?”

  “I think I’m going to throw up.”

  He sat her down right in time for her to slump to the side and evacuate her stomach.

  “I’m sorry,” she whimpered when she was done.

  “Better?”

  Black dots swam through her vision as she nodded. His face crumpled with worry, but whatever his reply was got swallowed up in a tunnel of darkness that sucked her under.

  ***

  When she came to, she was wrapped in a scratchy wool blanket. Cool metal was pressing against her cheekbone and she jerked, instantly remembering the feel of the knife against her flesh.

  “It’s okay, Allison,” the merc’s deep voice.

  He showed her the metal thing he’d had against her cheek. “This’ll help with the swelling a little.” She’d seen it used out in the ring when the fighters had their faces re-arraigned. She prayed she wouldn’t look the same as them once she was finally brave enough to face a mirror.

  The merc’s eyes met hers and the furrow between his brows relaxed as he put the metal back to her face.

  “Hi,” she mumbled through a swollen lip.

  He pulled the piece of metal away and set it on a table beside them. “It’s not good to pass out after a beating. I was worried.”

  Allie’s eyes roamed over their surroundings. “Where are we?”

  “Locker room.”

  The room was muggy with sweat and soap and she realized fighters were wandering in and out between grey, metal rows of lockers, towels around their hips, curious eyes glancing over at her. The spray of water echoing off tile made her head spin. Oh, no. She was getting sick again.

  “This is so humiliating.” She pulled herself into a sitting position and jerked the blanket up to her chin.

  The merc turned back to her, holding a small jar of goo. He dipped his fingers into it and then slathered the stuff over her face. “This should help a little to numb the pain. At least ‘til you get to the hospital and they can fix you up right.” His fingers were light and careful, a surprising part of such a deadly package. A long index finger ran down the side of her brow to push a stray lock of hair out of her eyes before he finished it all off with a butterfly bandage over the bridge of her nose.

  “Drink this.” He handed her a bottle of grapefruit juice. She grimaced when the first taste hit her tongue. She’d never been a fan of grapefruit. Too bitter.

  He looked down at her expression and his mouth quirked like he was thinking of smiling. Allie had the feeling he didn’t know how to smile for real.

  “Sorry. We were out of orange juice,” he said.

  “S’okay. Thank you.” She looked around again. His locker was opened above them. A pair of sweats and a roll of tape, discarded gloves, and that was it as far as belongings went. Other than that it was bare. No pictures, or funny motivational sayings; no naked ladies. He was a robot, probably. She met his gaze. “I didn’t get your name.”

  “Didn’t offer it.” His eyes narrowed and his mouth quirked up again.

  She started to bite her lip but stopped on a wince. “You don’t expect me to call you the merc, do you?”

  He arched a brow.

  And she tightened her lips.

  Finally, he breathed out through his nose. “Matthew . . . Lynch.”

  “Thank you. For the name. And for saving me.” Her fingers dug into the thick fabric of the blanket. She felt as if she were watching their conversation in third person. Like her emotions had accumulated into such a heavy bundle they’d dropped away like rain from a cloud. She was grateful for the reprieve. Had the feeling when they managed to leach back into her she was going to fall apart.

  She looked back at Matthew and felt herself struggle for conversation. Instead, she dropped her gaze to the bottle in her hands. The words were lost somewhere in her jumbled brain. Matthew seemed comfortable with silence and patiently waited for her to finish off her juice. He bent down to a duffle bag that was sitting on the floor and pulled out a clean—if not rumpled—tee shirt. Allie hadn’t noticed all the blood on him until now, or the bruised and split knuckles that were now being used to pull the dirty shirt up and over his head. . . .

  Woah.

  She blinked stupidly until her brain came back on line. He was a friggin’ machine in human’s clothing. No one had a body that perfect in real life. Seeing it from a distance, and then up close . . . well, the two simply couldn’t compare. His was a body that should be admired intimately. She breathed in and choked on her juice.

  Matthew took it away. “You okay?”

  His skin was riddled with scars. Big slashes cut into all that perfect male anatomy. Who—or what—could have done that to him? Her eyes were watering and she coughed again to clear her throat. “Fine.” She blinked tears from her eyes, noticing the tattoo that sat over his heart. An eagle clutching a trident.

  Matthew dropped his gaze to hers and quickly tugged the clean shirt on over his head.

  “That’s Navy SEALs, isn’t it? The tattoo, I mean.”

  “Mmm, hmm.” He grabbed the gloves and sweats from the locker and stuffed them into his bag.

  Allie fidgeted in her seat when he didn’t expound. “So, are you a SEAL?”

  “Maybe I’m just a fan.”

  “Bull. You’d get your ass kicked by anyone in the military if you were a fake.” One thing you didn’t do was pretend to be a SEAL if you weren’t. “You are, aren’t you?”

  Mossy eyes darkened. “Was.”

  Sheesh! Talkative, much?

  “How long did you serve? My grandpa was in the navy.”

  Matthew’s fingers ran through his messy hair. “Look. I’m not into getting to know people. This”—his hand gestured back and forth between them both—“isn’t going to happen.”

  Allie swallowed around sudden tears. She never got choked up like this normally. “I didn’t mean . . . I was just trying to make conversation,” she stuttered.

  “Well, don’t.” His voice was hard. Final. His eyes flashed to the locker room doorway and his hand shot up. “She’s over here.”

  Two uniformed officers—an older man and a h
ard-looking woman—crossed to them. Green eyes met hers. “They’re going to want a statement and get you checked out at a hospital. Do you have a ride home?”

  Allie scrounged through her purse for her phone. “I came with my friends.” Her fingers locked around her iPhone and she pulled it out. The screen was cracked all to hell. She tried to turn it on and came up with nothing but fresh frustration. Tears brimmed and her shoulders slumped. “All their numbers were in my phone.”

  Matthew sighed. “Do you have any of them memorized?”

  She shook her head. “I just punch in their names.” The tears were in full-flow now down her puffy face.

  She was pathetic.

  A disaster.

  He sighed again and his fingers were suddenly under her chin. She looked up into his face and fought against the quiver in her bottom lip. His other hand wrapped around hers and gently pulled the phone away. “It’s okay, Allison. I’ll stay with you.”

  Chapter five

  It was weird sitting in a hospital room with a total stranger, clad in nothing but a skimpy blue gown while getting grilled by the police.

  Matthew had been asked to join them a half hour ago. He handled the interrogation with a lot more cool than Allie had. She was so flustered after having the same questions asked in every conceivable way, she didn’t know what the right answer was anymore. Before that, Matthew had been forced to wait in the hallway while the doctors checked over her injuries. She was shocked that he’d stuck around, thinking for sure he’d bale on her as soon as an opportunity presented.

  Allie wished she could slip out through a side door.

  She wasn’t going anywhere for now, though, prevented by the unrelenting embrace of nausea caused by a concussion. The past however-many hours had been long and boring. The x-ray room where doctors had discovered that she had a hairline fracture in her foot had been the highlight of her stay so far. She’d thankfully been able to avoid stitches, instead having the gashes over the bridge of her nose and under her eye super glued back together. She was glad the doctors wouldn’t have to go all Frankenstein on her face.

  Nothing she could do to avoid the boot on her foot, though.

  While she wouldn’t need crutches to gimp around, the boot was big and cumbersome. She didn’t know how she’d survive work, waiting tables at Matta’s. She’d be a throbbing mess by the end of her shift. And then there was the weekend gig at BIG 5. Maybe she could finally impress the clientele with some B.S. about skiing, or tell them she’d been in a biking accident? As it was, Allie was ridiculously unqualified to be working at a sporting goods store . . . even if it was only to work the cash register, so it could help give her some credibility. After all, you had to participate in some kind of activity to break something. No one needed to know she’d been beat up by a bunch of monsters.

  Way to uncover the positives, Allie.

  Unfortunately, she was having a difficult time putting a positive spin on the concussion that was forcing her to spend a whole night at the hospital for observation. It’s just money, right? Guess she was going to be on an all-Raman noodle budget for the next six months.

  At least she was alive.

  She’d been lucky . . . and incredibly stupid.

  The cops were all-too up front about their feelings on that matter. Their scary cop eyes and hard faces brought to the surface a whole lot of self-loathing while she squirmed under their gazes.

  But the worst part was that she completely agreed with them.

  She’d been an idiot.

  If Matthew hadn’t shown up when he did . . . tears sprang to her eyes and she reached for another tissue, mortified to be crying in front of the cops, and Matthew.

  Matthew’s hand covered hers and he gave the cops a look that could have peeled paint from the walls. “Think she’s had enough for tonight. Anything else can wait until tomorrow when she’s had a chance to rest.”

  The female officer, fidgeting under Matthew’s steel gaze, snapped her notepad shut. Allie couldn’t blame her. Matthew had a way of projecting menace, even in repose. Unhappy, he could paralyze.

  The male officer stepped forward and handed her a card. “We’ll need you to come down to the station tomorrow morning as soon as you are able if you want us to press charges. This is the third strike for some of these boys, so they’ll most likely be going away for a while.” His eyes softened a little as he looked over her battered face. “The address is on the back of the card, along with a number where you can get a hold of us.”

  Allie’s hands shook as a fresh release of adrenaline surged through her. It was a huge relief to know her attackers would be in a cage where they belonged.

  Matthew snatched the card from Allie and slammed it down hard on the table. He stood, angling his body between her and the cops. “She’s already agreed to come down. And to press charges. We’re done here.”

  The male officer’s mouth tightened as though he’d like to say something more, but Matthew wasn’t having any of it. He had them out in the hall with the door slammed in their faces before Allie could blink.

  She slumped into the plastic mattress of the uncomfortable hospital bed, feeling miserable, and pulled the thin blanket up to her chin. Matthew was still facing the door, probably gearing up for his own chance to rip into her. Allie looked away. His presence filled the whole room; and even though it was just the two of them alone, it felt as if the place had never been more crowded.

  She swallowed the lump in her throat when the muscles in Matthew’s back bunched and he turned. His eyes were deep green, his expression unreadable. She couldn’t stand to get yelled at by him, too.

  Squishing her eyes closed, she did her best to disappear.

  Her voice wavered as she forced herself to talk. “You don’t have to say anything, okay. I know I’m an idiot. I put myself into a horrible situation. It was stupid. I was stupid. Trust me, you couldn’t make me feel any worse than I already do right now.”

  The vinyl on the seat beside her bed creaked. When she felt his fingers grasp her chin, she jumped. “Allison, open your eyes, please.”

  She breathed in some courage, opened them . . . and waited.

  His eyes ran over her face and his mouth compressed. “You do realize you were the victim tonight, right?”

  She tried to jerk her face away so she didn’t have to look at him anymore. She couldn’t bare it right now. His hands clamped around the sides of her face—unyielding . . . but cool, smooth, and safe—and suddenly she couldn’t breathe. Matthew was right there; within kissing distance. She swallowed, terrified for what he was going to do.

  “Those cops were harsh,” he continued. “They see a lot of bad shit and so the idea of some girl putting herself right in the line of danger makes them angry.” When she sniffled, he added, “The only thing you’re guilty of is an excess of naïveté.”

  Allie felt warmth trickle down her cheek. Matthew’s eyes dropped and the pad of one finger captured the tear and brought it to his lips where he kissed it away. Allie’s heart surged to her throat as she zoned in on the moist remains that clung to the center of his bottom lip. Her face was flushed with too much heat. Her mouth felt wet and hungry; she wanted to run her tongue over that swollen flesh.

  Oh, crap, she thought. I can’t breathe. She was going to die if he didn’t kiss her. She’d burn away in lust.

  He leaned forward just a little. “Allison?”

  Her name on his lips now!

  She looked up into his eyes. The ring of mossy green was narrowed down by dilated pupils; all over darker . . . and hungrier.

  “Allie,” she managed to whisper.

  His brows folded over his eyes. “What?”

  “Everyone calls me Allie.” She cleared her throat. “Only teachers and telemarketers call me Allison.”

  His mouth curled up with a smile that made her stomach flip. Cripes, were those dimples? She’d kill to have him smile like that at her all the time.

  The door was suddenly thrown open and th
e room filled with people. Allie jumped back from Matthew like they’d been caught in the middle of . . . well, she had no idea what had been about to happen, actually.

  Lainie, a wild woman with her smudged mascara and halo of frizzed-out hair, froze when her gaze fixed on Matthew. Her face blanched to white and she muttered, “Holy shit. It’s true!”

  Jennifer peered over Lainie’s shoulder, her face tight with concern. The four guys that completed the crew filed in next but stuck to the room’s fringes, looking uncomfortable. Allie dropped her eyes, grateful the blanket was still covering her chest. The thin gown left little to the imagination.

  Lainie and Jennifer ran to her side, gathered up her hands in too-tight grips. Allie grimaced as their eyes ran over her face and their complexions changed from white to ash.

  “Oh, my gosh, Allie. You look horrible.” Lainie’s grip went from tight, to bone-shattering. Allie wriggled her fingers free and did her best to smile with some kind of reassurance.

  “What happened?” Jennifer’s voice was quiet.

  Lainie cut Allie’s reply off, “We were sick when we heard about the attack and couldn’t find you.” Her blue eyes flashed with lightening. “And where’s your phone? We’ve been calling for the last four hours!”

  Jennifer settled a light hand over Lainie’s shoulder. “Don’t freak out too much on her. She’s been through hell already.”

  Allie fumbled for her purse and dumped its contents out. The crushed phone perched on a nest of lip gloss, dollar bills, and loose change. “It got broken in the—fight.”

  “Allie, ah geeze! I’m so, so sorry! I knew I should have gone with you.” A well of tears washed down Allie’s bruised cheeks when Lainie’s arms folded around her.

  “Where did the merc go?” Jennifer wondered. “He was sitting beside you when we got here?”

  Allie sat up, eyes searching.

  She was right.

  Matthew was gone.

  Chapter six

  Allie prodded gentle fingers over the skin beneath her eye. A grimace curled up her nose as she scrutinized her reflection in the mirror of her small bathroom. The past three weeks had given her bruises time to fade and the swelling to go down. Her face was still a mottled kaleidoscope of yellow and green, but it was a major improvement to what it had started out as. Still, it took her about two inches of makeup to cover what now remained. She just hoped it was a good enough job to stave off the funny looks and uncomfortably personal questions she’d been pelted with at work and school.