Kiss Me That Way: A Cottonbloom Novel (12 page)

Kayla’s chin wobbled and another tear slipped out. “He thought I was flirting with one of his friends. I wasn’t, I swear, but he … slapped me. I called you, but he saw me and grabbed me up hard.”

Her face fell, her hair swishing forward like curtains closing. Monroe brushed Kayla’s hair back, barely touching the light finger-shaped bruising on her upper arm. It would look worse come morning. “You did the right thing by calling me and going somewhere safe.”

“He didn’t mean to hurt me. He only gets like this when he’s had too much.”

The implications of Kayla’s justifications for her boyfriend’s behavior filled Monroe with equal amounts frustration and despair. Everything she lectured about week after week hadn’t changed Kayla’s outcome. Was she fooling herself into thinking she was making a difference?

Monroe tightened her focus to the situation at hand. She pulled her phone out of her back pocket. “I’m going to call the police. You can press charges.”

“No! I don’t want anyone to see me like this.”

Monroe recognized the shame. She was still covering up her mother’s drinking for the same reasons.

“I’ve had a few drinks, too.” Kayla’s voice was tentative. “Won’t a bunch of people get in trouble if the cops come?”

A bunch of people deserved to get in trouble—the bouncer, the bartender, Dylan—but that wasn’t Monroe’s priority. Her priority was to get Kayla somewhere safe. “Is your mom home?”

“Working second tonight.”

The stream of women into and out of the bathroom hadn’t abated. Monroe put her arm around Kayla’s shoulders and guided her through the gauntlet at the door. Kayla stumbled a couple of times and leaned into Monroe.

She hesitated outside the bathroom corridor. The length of crowded bar they’d need to navigate seemed overwhelming. Somewhere in the crush was Dylan. And Sam.

A hand cupped her elbow and she startled. “Take her out through the kitchens.” The blond man had come up beside her, and she allowed him to guide her back down the hallway, past the bathrooms, and into the kitchen.

He was taller than he’d appeared on the stool, his body lean. In the bright lights of the kitchen he looked younger, too, although life’s experiences had etched a maturity on his face she was familiar with.

“The walking a-hole she was hanging with … You want me to keep him from following you?” He had to raise his voice over the music pumping from a grease-splattered stereo system sitting on a counter.

If Kayla weren’t clinging to Monroe, she would have given the stranger a hug. “If it’s not too much trouble, I would be forever grateful.”

The man’s gaze skated to Kayla, and he nodded once. “Back door?” he asked the fry cook.

The cook pulled a basket of fries out of boiling oil and nudged his chin toward racks of supplies. An industrial-size garbage can marked the exit. Monroe pushed the heavy metal door open, glanced over her shoulder to see the blond man disappear, and stepped outside.

A weak finger of light from a dimmed spotlight hanging on a gutter lit the alley. A Dumpster blocked one end while empty crates and liquor boxes were stacked in a makeshift wall in front of a line of pine trees.

The warm night exacerbated the smell of rotting food and skunked beer. Kayla lurched away, fell to her knees in the gravel, and threw up next to an empty keg. Monroe squatted next to her and stroked her hair back. Sweat dotted the girl’s forehead, and her pale, clammy face served to emphasize the handprint.

Monroe rubbed small circles on Kayla’s back as the girl’s dry heaves settled. She tried to keep her voice from reflecting her inner jitters. “Kayla, sweetie, I need to get you out of here. Can you walk?”

Kayla nodded and Monroe helped her, sliding an arm around her waist. Before they made it a dozen feet, a twentysomething man with shaggy brown hair turned the corner, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his slouchy jeans.

Kayla turned from compliant into panicked. She grabbed Monroe’s arm and pulled her back toward the kitchen door. The man was focused on Kayla. He was big, at least six feet tall and close to two hundred pounds.

The kitchen door had a pushbutton key lock on the handle. Kayla yanked on the handle and beat on the door. No way was the fry cook going to hear them over his booming music. Monroe accepted their fate before Kayla did. Dylan was already within ten feet of them. Monroe stepped forward and put herself between the man and Kayla. Like a missile acquiring its target, his focus remained on Kayla.

“I need to talk to my girl over there alone, so you need to get on, lady.”

She wasn’t weak like her mother. She was strong. She would protect Kayla. Her pep talk couldn’t completely stamp out the fear. Breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth, she tried to ready herself, but her mind blanked.

“Move it before I’m forced to take care of you, too.”

I told your mama I would take care of you.
Words that haunted her dreams blurred into a monstrous reality
.
Something dangerous cracked open in Monroe.

“Yeah? Well, that’s not going to happen. You must think you’re a real tough guy, pushing women around.” Sarcasm poured into her voice, concealing any trembly note.

He shifted his feet apart and pulled his hands out of his pockets to crack his knuckles. If she weren’t afraid to take her eyes off him for a second, she would have rolled them at his clichéd intimidation tactics.

“You’d best keep outta my business.”

“When you hit Kayla, your business became my business.”

“You want some of what I gave her?”

Monroe attempted a calming breathing technique, but all the extra oxygen did was shoot aggression through her muscles. “Kayla is only seventeen. She shouldn’t even be here.”

“She was looking to screw my buddy, so I’d say she’s old enough. And who was that blond dude? Someone else she was looking to hook up with?”

Kayla’s tinny voice barely carried across to them. “I’d never cheat on you, I swear.”

Dylan pointed toward Kayla. “I’ll deal with you in a minute, slut.”

Fury obliterated any caution. Monroe took two steps forward and shoved him in the shoulder as hard as she could. He fell on his butt; either he was drunker than he appeared or the adrenaline had given her strength. Rocking on her feet, she waited for his move. A mistake.

His scramble up was faster and more agile than she expected. Before she could react, he grabbed a hank of her hair and yanked her forward. A hundred needles jabbed into her scalp, bringing a sting of tears to her eyes.

Her training had been sterile and safe. She’d never had to actually fight someone off in an alley. Had never had to fight her own instincts to run, save herself.

His movements were like watching a video in slow motion. He raised his arm, ready to backhand her. Without consciously planning to, she blocked his punch. The contact was jarring and numbed her forearm and hand, but after hours of repetitious training her body knew what to do next.

She popped him on the bridge of his nose with the heel of her hand. He released her hair to cover his nose. Throwing her weight into his body, she swept her leg around his. The move dropped him to the ground again. His hand flailed and caught her jaw. She reeled backward into the brick wall. She was breathing hard, and the pain in her face edged stars into her vision.

Now was the time for flight. She grabbed Kayla by the wrist and pulled her in a run-walk toward the corner of the building, hoping for more light and more people. Crying, the girl stumbled along. Monroe barely stopped herself from yelling at her to move faster, faster. She risked a glance behind them. Dylan was up and weaving in their direction, his hand cupped over his nose. Her SUV was in the far corner of the crowded lot. They would never make it.

A man appeared, limping slightly and with his big body backlit. His face was shadowed, but of course she knew. Cade. She couldn’t summon any sort of resentment at him being here. All she felt was relief.

Cade didn’t say a word, didn’t even make eye contact, as she and Kayla slipped by him. His face was hard, the ferocity a revelation. Monroe stopped behind him and supported a trembling Kayla around the waist. The danger had passed like a storm, and as her adrenaline seeped away her muscles quivered under Kayla’s weight.

She was safe with Cade. The knowledge was something she understood without question. Like the sky was blue or the Earth was round.

“Did you touch either one of these women?” Cade’s voice thrummed with a threat.

Even Dylan sensed an alpha predator. He stopped fifteen feet from Cade. “The blonde shoved me.”

“I’m taking that for a ‘yes.’ Only a coward beats up on women half his size. How would you do against me?”

“I could take you, old man.” The snarling menace had faded from Dylan’s voice, revealing a weak bravado.

“Give it your best shot.” Cade gave a come-and-get-me gesture with both hands.

Dylan withered, smaller and younger than her impression at the height of her fear. If he hadn’t been drunk, he might have done the smart thing and thrown himself on Cade’s mercy. Instead, Dylan closed the distance between them and tried to land a blow. Cade blocked it with his left hand, threw a straight jab followed by a left uppercut. Dylan swayed for a moment before toppling like a cut tree.

Kayla broke free and knelt at Dylan’s side. She ran her hands over his face, dabbing at the blood dripping out of his nose. Cade cradled his left hand to his chest, muttering.

Feeling suddenly unsure, Monroe sidled closer to him. “Let me see your hand. Does it hurt?”

“Yes, it effing hurts.” He held out his left hand, and she took it in both of hers. Without her having to direct him, he made a fist and then spread his hand wide.

The bouncer approached, his bulked-up arms swinging wide from his body, his legs sticking out of too-long shorts and comically skinny by comparison. “Why’s all hell gotta cut loose on my shift?”

Cade stepped forward. “What’s up, Butch? How’s your daddy been?”

“Cade Fournette? Dadgum, it’s been a while.” They exchanged handshakes. “Family’s same old, same old. You should swing by the house. What’s going on? Need some help?” With Cade, the bouncer was all sunshine and helpfulness.

“The d-bag on the ground was messing with these two ladies. Can you get him sobered up and home?”

“Sure thing. I tossed his buddies out for starting a fight inside not five minutes ago. Three against one.” Butch hauled Dylan over a shoulder.

Monroe caught Butch’s arm. “Hold up. Were they fighting a man with a blond ponytail?”

“That’s the one. They got some good licks in, but the dude didn’t want me calling the cops. He rode off on a motorcycle a couple of minutes ago.”

When Kayla tried to follow Dylan, Monroe looped an arm around her elbow and steered her toward the parking lot. “I’m taking you home and staying until your mama gets off work. We need to talk.”

Cade fell into step with them, and she glanced over, not sure what to say or do. “Thanks. I guess I’ll see you later?”

“I’m following you. My guess is the punk will come to mad as a sack of crawfish and might come looking for one or both of you.”

She took a breath, twingy pains shooting through her jaw. Even though needing his help encroached on her well-manicured streak of independence, she couldn’t deny having him around would settle her nerves, because she’d already considered the same scenario. After weighing pride and common sense, she nodded. “All right, I’d appreciate that.”

Chapter Nine

Tension flowed out of Cade’s shoulders. He’d half-expected Monroe to tell him she didn’t want him around. Or to tell him to go to hell for interfering. The fear and frustration that had overtaken him after she’d hung up on him still boiled close to the surface.

He’d been itching for a fight, but the kid went down with two blows. Of course, he hadn’t considered the state of his hand on that left uppercut. The healing nerves shot pain all the way up his arm.

He’d parked his truck behind her SUV, effectively blocking her in. The Rivershack Tavern was packed. He’d wasted a good five minutes searching the bar floor for her, even sending a woman into the restroom to check. The relief at finding her with the girl around back had been tempered by the panic and determination on her face and the man following close behind.

Even with the threat gone, Cade settled a hand on her lower back and kept pace with her and Kayla. The girl stumbled, crying softly, Monroe’s arm around her shoulders seemingly the only thing keeping her up. How the girl could waste a single tear on that abusive jerk was beyond him.

He limped ahead and opened the passenger door so Monroe could help the girl onto the seat. The interior lights illuminated the red slash of color covering her left cheek and jaw. Bile burned his throat.

Monroe closed the door and pulled her keys out of her front pocket. In her shorts and tank top and with her hair around her shoulders, she didn’t look much older than the girl she’d rescued.

Before she could walk around to the driver’s side, he grabbed her hand. “Did he hit you, too?”

She touched her jaw. “I knocked him off-balance and his hand got me on the way down. Collateral damage. I’ve been hurt worse training in the gym with your sister.”

“This wasn’t training.” He dropped her hand to cup her nape and run his thumb along her jawline, tilting her face toward the flickering parking lot light. “Is the girl badly hurt?”

“Her name is Kayla. She’ll be okay.” Her voice wavered as if she wasn’t quite convinced.

With his left hand still hooked around her neck, he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I’m calling the police.”

She grabbed his wrist. “No. She didn’t want me to call. She’s ashamed and embarrassed and I don’t think she would end up pressing charges.”

“You could do it.”

She looked over her shoulder. The girl had drawn her knees up. Her face was hidden in her arms, but her shoulders shook like she was crying. “If I do, she’ll never trust me again, Cade. Then who will she call if she gets into a fix like this again?”

“Why does it have to be you?”

The look she gave him made him feel like a selfish a-hole, which was a perfectly accurate description of him the last few years.