Here Comes Trouble (12 page)

But it was too late.

Matthew turned his head as another car crept along the shoulder and parked behind him. It looked exactly like the dark sedan he’d seen rolling down Lorena’s street. The driver turned off the headlights and stepped out of the vehicle.

“You all right?” a beefy-looking white male asked. “Need some help?”

“No, I’m fine,” Matthew replied, standing.

Another man got out of the car. He was bigger and black and walked awkwardly with his arm held close to his body. “You sure?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” Matthew assured them, but they kept coming.

“It’s dangerous to be out here on the side of the road like this,” the first man said. “Anything could happen.” He smiled, but Matthew thought he heard a menacing undertone in his voice.

“You sure you don’t have a flat or something?” the second man asked. He walked out of sight to the back of Matthew’s SUV.

“I’d know if I had a flat.”

The sound of breaking glass jarred him. The black guy peeped around the back of the vehicle. His strange walk must have been the means he used to hide some kind of weapon. “Looks like your back window’s busted out.”

Ah, hell. As if this night couldn’t get any worse, some idiots looking for trouble had broken out the window of his beloved Lexus.

“Such a shame,” the first man said in a sorrowful voice.

“Look, I don’t want any trouble. Why don’t you guys keep driving, and I’ll pretend this didn’t happen.”

“You hear that?” White Guy asked. “He doesn’t want any trouble.”

Black Guy laughed. “If he doesn’t want any trouble, he shouldn’t cause any, don’t you think?”

A car whizzed by.

Suspicion tingled at the base of Matthew’s spine. This wasn’t a random encounter. “Who are you guys?”

White Guy stepped to him. A few inches shorter than Matthew, he had a body built like a tank. “We have a mutual friend.”

Quiet movement behind him alerted Matthew that Black Guy had come all the way around the vehicle. But he had only enough time to see the long pipe from the corner of his eye as it lowered, landing with a solid thump across his back. Pain shocked his system, shooting along his spine in both directions.

With a low grunt, he staggered and fell to his knees in the dirt. Another vicious blow forced him onto all fours.

The two men started to laugh. “We’ve got a message. From
Lewis
. Think you can get his name right now?”

They laughed again, and White Guy kicked him in the side with a booted foot. Matthew groaned in agony. The blow knocked the wind out of him and left him gasping for air.

“We saw you tonight sitting outside of Lorena’s house. Stay away from her. Understand?”

Matthew briefly shut his eyes to dispel the dizzying effects of the pain coursing through him.

“Anything you have to say for yourself?” White Guy asked.

“Nothing to say now, huh?” Black Guy taunted.

Taking in a painful breath, Matthew managed to get out a couple of words. “Send more.”

“I can’t hear you,” White Guy said in a singsong voice.

When his booted foot landed in Matthew’s side again, this time he was ready. He tightened his abs to lessen the strength of the blow.

“I said…” He clenched his teeth and curled his fingers around a handful of dirt and rocks. “Tell him next time, send more.”

He went into a different place in his head. A place where he didn’t feel pain. The same place he used to go when he played football so the constant blows didn’t weaken him. So he could dish out as much pain as possible, using his body as a weapon of destruction, plowing through his opponents to sack a quarterback or tackle a receiver.

He lifted his head and glared at this latest opponent. White Guy’s face lost its cocky smile. “Two of you is not nearly enough.”

Matthew lunged to his feet and tossed the handful of dirt into the face of the man holding the steel pipe behind him. Black Guy sputtered and stumbled back, which gave Matthew just enough time to turn in one swift movement toward the other man. He had the pleasure of watching his face blanch.

Right before he slammed his closed fist into his jaw.

Chapter Nine

The water drained from the large claw-foot tub. Lorena stepped onto the bathroom rug and patted her skin dry. With its cast-iron feet and fixtures, the antique-inspired tub had been an expensive indulgence, but one she hadn’t been able to resist.

She’d started taking baths to soothe her sore muscles when she used to run long distance, but she’d found them to be equally soothing whenever she was troubled. The time alone in the rose-scented water had eased her mind, and she felt better about the decision she’d made tonight.

In her bedroom, she let down her hair, shaking out the chestnut curls to fall on her shoulders before she began to smooth lotion onto her skin. Not long into her task, she heard a knock on the front door. Not a knock, really. More like a loud pound.

She slipped on her silk robe and shoved her feet into slippers. On her way to the door, the pounding started again, so loud the door vibrated on its hinges. Only one person dared to assault her door in such a manner.

After her decision tonight, her abdomen tensed in preparation to see him. She didn’t want to face him yet, but it seemed he’d taken the decision of when and where out of her hands.

Lorena took a deep, steadying breath before she opened the door.

“Tell me where to find Lewis,” Matthew demanded as soon as he saw her. He looked furious, his face tense as if he’d explode at any moment. “I know he was here earlier. Where is he?”

His disheveled appearance shocked her. “What happened to you?” she gasped.

A large reddish bruise marred his forehead over his left eye. His shirt was dirt stained and hanging open. The buttons seemed to have been yanked off with such a level of violence, they left only the loose threads attached. Dark red spots blotted his white, tight-fitting sleeveless undershirt, and in his hand he held a long metal pipe.

“Tell me where to find him, Lorena. We have a score to settle.” His body seemed to vibrate with unspent energy.

“Wait a minute. I—no. I’m not telling you where he is.”

Her heart hammered erratically behind her rib cage. What was going on? Matthew looked as though he’d been in a fight. Why was he looking for Lewis? Coupled with the tight grip he had on the steel weapon, and his angry demands, she feared Matthew wanted to kill him.

“So you’re going to protect him?” His eyes flashed with fury, and his face filled with stony determination that sent another shaft of fear through her.

“Tell me what’s going on. Why are you looking for him? And what happened to you? You look like you’ve been in a fight.”

“I’m going to be okay,” Matthew said. “I can’t say the same for my attackers.”

“I don’t understand. Who attacked you? My goodness, you have
blood
on your shirt.”

He looked down as if it was the first time he’d seen the blood. “It’s not mine.”

“Whose is it?” Lorena asked in a hushed voice.

He looked steadily into her eyes. “The two men I left on the side of the road. The two men Lewis hired to follow me and beat me up to keep me away from you.”

The shock of his words ricocheted through her. He had to be mistaken. “That’s a horrible accusation to make,” she said softly, hoping it was a lie.

“It’s the truth,” Matthew told her. “It happened, whether you believe it or not. He won’t fight me like a man, so he hired two pathetic goons to teach me a lesson. Trust me—he didn’t get his money’s worth.”

Lorena’s eyes lowered to the pipe. “How do you know Lewis hired them to attack you?” she asked, fighting back a swell of nausea at the ghastly sight of blood smeared on it.

“Because they gave me a message from him. They told me to stay away from you.”

Her head started spinning. She never suspected Lewis could be capable of hiring thugs to attack another person. Now Matthew wanted retribution for tonight’s attack.

She needed to defuse the situation, and fast. “As flattering as it is to have two men fight over me, I think you need to calm down.”

“Tell me where to find him, Lorena.” His face looked dark, his eyes stormy, like black clouds swarming overhead before a thunderstorm.

“No,” she replied. “Wait, don’t leave!” She lifted her hands in supplication. “Why don’t you come inside, Matt? Please. You have an ugly bruise on your face. Let me put some ice on it to keep the swelling down, and you can tell me what happened.”

She held her breath and waited for his response. He could be hotheaded at times—an unfortunate trait they had in common. She spoke in a calm voice, hoping he’d listen. His dark brown eyes filled with uncertainty during the internal debate of whether or not to stay, or leave and try to find Lewis. He was amped up on anger, and she could practically see the adrenalin-fueled energy running through him. Common sense prevailed, however. He came toward her, and she stepped back to allow him into the house.

“Um, could you leave the pipe outside?”

He tossed it behind him, and it clanked on the cement. She shut the door, closing them in together. He dominated the room with his presence.

“You know where the bathroom is. You can go in there and wash up. A bottle of alcohol and cotton swabs are under the sink to take care of those scratches on your hand.”

Without a word, Matthew headed toward the hall bathroom, and she went into the kitchen. Her mind raced with the accusations Matthew had tossed out. She couldn’t believe Lewis had come by to discuss their relationship, while at the same time he had two men trailing Matthew, intent on harming him.

She searched the kitchen cabinets for a spell before she found a box of freezer bags in the pantry. She started to fill one with ice. Her hands shook a little at the thought that Matthew could have been badly hurt.

Behind her, she heard him enter the kitchen, and when she glanced over her shoulder, she saw he’d positioned himself with his back against the opposite counter. He didn’t say a word, and she finished filling the bag. The heat of his stare bored into her back, and it made her remember that in her haste to get to the door, she hadn’t put on any clothes and wore absolutely nothing under her robe.

She closed the freezer and squeezed the excess air from the bag before zipping it closed and facing him.

He’d removed his damaged shirt and balled it up on the counter. Her eyes brushed across the sweep of his broad shoulders and the bulging muscles of his chest and abs beneath the clinging white cotton of his undershirt. He examined her, too, his gaze roving over her, making her nipples pebble in response. She hoped he didn’t notice. The air grew thick with the heat that swirled around them.

Part of her felt like she shouldn’t glory in violence of any kind, but she’d never seen him look so rough—and so sexy. The room smelled of sweat from his physical exertion. The thought that he’d gotten the best of two other men was highly erotic and awakened primitive excitement inside of her. 

“You know you brought this on yourself,” she said.

“Yes.” His voice was flat and emotionless.

“But you don’t care.” She extended the bag of ice.

“No. I’d knock him down again. I don’t like liars.” He took the ice.