Captured at Nightfall (Capture My Heart Love Story) (4 page)

Silence now, except for her
own frantic breath in her ears.

“Hey.” A male voice startled her and she jumped back.

A hand rested on her elbow. “Don’t
touch
me!” She swatted it away. Hysterics cracked her voice to pieces. A surge of adrenaline ratcheted up inside her heart and threw it against her ribcage. Her entire body was vibrating with fear and she had to clench her jaw just to keep her teeth from chattering out of her head.

T
he man eased back from her, turned away, and she watched him gather her things back into her purse. His head was a copper halo, bent down over the wallet he was flipping through.

“That’s mine.” Her voice felt hoarse.

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

The
merc?

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

He was holding he
r 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.

C
ool 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 pulle
d 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?”

“L
ocker room.”

The room was muggy with sweat and soap and she realized fight
ers 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.

“Sor
ry. 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.”

“D
idn’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. “Y
ou 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 hard-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.”

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 u
ncover 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 t
he 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.