Neil (The Uncompromising Series Book 2) (41 page)

Goddamn it. I didn’t want to deal with this shit. I’d driven all night to get home and minus a quick stop at my house for a shower, I’d come straight to work. All I wanted to do was finish the surfboard I was working on, catch some waves, and get a decent night’s sleep. I needed to forget about women, all women, including the one with her back to me, sitting on the beach wall looking lost as hell. As if she’d heard me, Nicole wrapped her arms around her stomach and shivered.

“Shit. It’s eighty-five degrees out,” I muttered.

Kendall looked up from taking inventory. “It’s Florida. Your point?”

“Nothin’,” I snapped, walking back to my office. I grabbed my keys and my 9mm, tucking it into my back waistband and pulling my T-shirt over it. For once I was glad I was in jeans instead of board shorts.

“Expecting trouble?” Kendall smirked.

It was a stupid question. She knew Nicole’s boyfriend. If Randy was around, there was trouble. “Nothin’ I can’t handle.”

She crossed her arms. “That’s what everyone says—right before they take a bullet between the eyes.”

Anyone else saying those words, it would’ve been a warning. But Kendall followed it with a smile that was one hundred percent meant to rile.

I pushed past her. “Watch the shop.”

Her voice went sugary sweet. “Gee, Kendall, can you please look after my store while I run out and play hero? I know you’re here more than me but I really appreciate it. You’re such a good friend and employee to have.” Then she dropped the pretense and yelled, “
You don’t pay me enough
!”

She was probably right. “Buy yourself lunch. Take it out of the register.” Sunglasses on, I stepped out into the humid morning.

I crossed the street and five paces away, I knew something was wrong. Nicole wasn’t hugging herself, she was cradling her arm. Her hair disheveled, her T-shirt stained and ripped, there was mottling all over the back of her neck.

Goddamn it. If that fucker had hit her, I was gonna hit him back. My fists clenched and I slowed my pace. Making a wide arc, I approached from the side of her good arm and stopped three feet away. “Hey, Nic.”

Her back straightened but she kept her face hidden behind her hair and a huge pair of sunglasses. She didn’t say shit.

I looked out at the ocean. “Nice day for the beach.”

No response.

“You’re not workin’ today?” I couldn’t remember what she did but Randy, the prick, complained about her working all the time. When she didn’t answer, I hopped up on the wall next to her and she flinched. “Hey hey hey, darlin’. Nothin’ doin’, just sittin’ a spell. That all right?” I tried to look at her face but she ducked her head and shrugged one shoulder. I glanced at her arm. There was no blood or bone jutting out, but the way she was holding it, something was wrong. She looked skittish as hell so I didn’t push. “Good day to catch some sun.” I scanned the beach for any sign of Randy.

She didn’t answer and I didn’t see him, so I started counting sets. The waves were shit and whatever the hell was wrong with her, I didn’t want to deal. I’d bet my bank account it was tied up around Randy. Veteran or not, he was an asshole.

I was starting to lose patience with the waiting game when she shifted slightly and I felt her eyes dart toward me.

“I think he’s dead,” she barely whispered.

I pushed my sunglasses up and turned. Mother
fucker
. “Take your sunglasses off,” I demanded.

She gingerly pulled them down her face.

Anger surged
.
“What the hell did he do to you?” The whole left side of her face was a mess—eye swollen, lip split, cheek bruised and purpling. She quickly hung her head but I caught her chin. “Oh, no you don’t.” I held her face in place, surveying the damage. “What the fuck did he use? A goddamn two-by-four?” No fist caused this. I was going to kill him if he wasn’t dead already.

“I fell,” she said nervously.

“Bullshit.”

She pulled her chin free. “It’s true. I fell into the doorframe.”

“Fell or was pushed? And what do you mean,
dead
?”

She looked away. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

I rubbed my hand over my face. “Cops after you?”

“No…I don’t think so.”

I pushed off the wall then reached for her. “C’mon. First things first, let’s get you cleaned up.”

She leaned back, clutching her arm tight.

The look of fear in her eyes went straight to my gut. “I’m not gonna hurt you, darlin’, I promise.” I put my hands on her small waist. “C’mon, let me help you down.”

She didn’t fight me but when her feet hit the ground, her leg gave out and she fell into my chest. She let out a small cry of pain and my arms were around her in a nanosecond. The scent of jasmine broadsided me.

“Shh, shh, I gotcha.” Jesus, she smelled incredible. Sunshine and innocence and sweet jasmine mingled around in my head and threatened to take hold.

“Sorry,” she breathed out, her voice laced with pain.

Something stirred in my chest but I shut it down and my former military training kicked in. I went into medic mode. “Can you walk?”

“Mm-hm.” Her face strained, she cautiously put her foot down and her hand landed on my stomach for support.

The second she touched me, I forgot all my training. I stared at her small, beaten body and anger ripped through my veins at the thought of someone doing this to her. “You lyin’?”

She panted through a few short breaths then shook her head.

“Nic?” I growled, two seconds away from picking her up.

Her hand slid to my side and trembling fingers dug into my waist. “Yeah?”

I vowed then and there that Randy fucking Carter was going to pay for this. Forcing my voice to a calm I didn’t feel, I gently wrapped my hand around her good arm. “Take a deep breath, sweetheart. If you don’t think anythin’ is broken, find your balance.”

“Nothing’s broken.” Determination in her voice, she inhaled and tested her weight on her leg. “I can walk.”

“Good girl.” Without thinking, I stroked her hair.

Startled, she looked up and big blue eyes full of mistrust met my gaze.

Everything went still. The bullshit chaos in my head, grief, anger, it all went quiet like the flip of a switch—a fucking jasmine switch.

Forcing myself to move back, I grabbed her duffel. “C’mon.”

She took an unsteady step.

“Nic?” It was everything I could do not to pick her up.

“I’m okay.”

Jesus. “No, you’re not. But I’m gonna see what I can do ’bout that.” I wrapped an arm around her for support and she instantly leaned into me.

I walked her across the street to the surf shop I owned and led her into my office in back. For once, Kendall kept her head down and her mouth shut.

When I set Nic in a chair, she winced and the leg she’d been favoring stayed straight out in front of her. “Thank you.”

Enough with this bullshit. “Where else are you hurt?” I demanded.

“My wrist.”

I stared at her. Blonde hair tossed by the wind, her clothes a mess, her face beaten to hell, she was still beautiful. I caved. “All right. I’ll play this your way.”

I squatted next to her and my training took over. I inspected the swelling on her cheek and gently pushed at the surrounding bone. She didn’t flinch but that didn’t mean it wasn’t fractured. I pulled her wrist toward me and turned her hand over in mine and she sucked in a stilted breath. “Tell me what happened.”

She gave me the one-shoulder shrug again.

I felt my way up the rest of her arm. “Where’s Randy?”

“At the apartment. I think.”

Nothing else seemed injured. “Was he breathing when you left?” I gently placed her wrist back in her lap. It was broken.

She slowly exhaled. “I don’t know.”

I stood and crossed my arms, leaning on my desk. “But you think he’s dead?”

“He didn’t really look like he was breathing.” Her voice was soft and breathy but the words were emotionally detached.

“Did you kill him?”

Her eyes met mine but her expression gave nothing away. “No.”

“What’s your end game?” If I was going to do anything beyond dumping her at the ER, I needed to know what I was getting myself into.

“What do you mean?”

I lost my patience. “C’mon, darlin’. I don’t have time for this shit. You show up on my doorstep half beaten to death, sayin’ you didn’t know where else to go. That tells me two things. One, you’re in deep shit and two, you think I can help. So, I ask again, what’s your plan? And don’t tell me it’s to go back when he calms the fuck down. Dead or alive, you’re done with that worthless prick. I ain’t a battered women’s shelter you can check in and out of.”

“Randy told me you were a doctor in the Navy,” she said in that quiet voice that was beginning to make me wonder if she ever got pissed off.

I sighed. “SARC, Marines.”

“What?”

“Not a doctor. Trauma medic. Answer my question.”

“I don’t want to go back there.” Nothing changed in her expression.

I pushed off the desk, hoping like hell she was telling the truth. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Her shoulder stiffened. “Where?”

“ER. X-rays. Your wrist’s broken and I want your cheek looked at. Not to mention the leg you’re favorin’ that you won’t tell me about.”

“It doesn’t hurt as much as my wrist.”

“Thank God for small favors. Up.” I held my hand out, gentleman that I am.

She stared at my hand a moment.

Then she reached for me and her entire story fell to shit.

TALON
(The Uncompromising Series Book #1) is available now at all ebook retailers and print copies are available through Amazon!

Writing is a solitary journey but publishing is a team effort and I could not do this without the amazing people who have helped and guided me. A huge thank you to Rebecca Paula for taking NEIL on despite her own busy writing schedule and giving him an edit! Another huge thank you to Adrian Hale for being Neil’s champion in all things alpha! Adrian, I am still laughing at your awesome comments!

Thank you so much to Virginia and Olivia at Hot Tree Editing for giving NEIL those polishing touches that I am so bad at!

And my cover! A giant thank you to Michael Stokes for his amazing photography! His photo of Kyle Clark was a perfect match for NEIL. And Clarise at CT Cover Designs, I adore you! Thank you for taking such good care of me!

To all my BBHers in my facebook reader group, Book Boyfriend Heroes, I love you all! Thank you for waiting so patiently for NEIL and cheering me on and putting up with all of my Viking hash tags!

And last but not least, a heartfelt thank you to my family. To my husband and son, I love you both beyond words. You are my everything! And mom and dad, I love you both so much! Thank you for teaching me to follow through on my dreams. XOXO

Sybil grew up in Northern California with her head in a book and her feet in the sand. She used to dream of becoming a painter but the heady scent of libraries with their shelves full of books drew her into the world of storytelling.

Sybil now resides in Southern Florida, and while she doesn’t get to read as much as she likes, she still buries her toes in the sand. If she’s not writing or fighting to contain the banana plantation in her backyard, you can find her spending time with her handsomely tattooed husband, her brilliantly practical son and a mischievous miniature boxer.

But Seriously?

Here are ten things you really want to know about Sybil.

She grew up a faculty brat. She can swear like a Sailor. She loves men in uniform. She hates being told what to do. She can do your taxes (but don’t ask). The Bird Market in Hong Kong freaked her out. Her favorite word is desperate, or dirty, or both, she can’t choose. She has a thing for muscle cars. But never rely on her for driving directions, ever. And she has a new book boyfriend every week—don’t tell her husband.

To find out more about Sybil or her books, please visit her website,
www.sybilbartel.com
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