Fighting Fate (Fighting Series) (Fighting #6)(11)

Good, as soon as I can get eyes on Clifford, assure myself he’s not going to bed tonight with my girl in his arms or worse—things of which I cannot imagine without breaking something—I’ll be able to go home and crash, with my phone, of course. Because the second she finally does respond I’m going to ream her ass for not keeping her fucking phone on her at all times.

Shit! Has the woman learned nothing from her mom’s mistakes?

“Yo! Mr. UFL, what’s up?” Theo calls to me from the kitchen where it looks like the final few hands of strip poker are being played.

I fist-bump the guy. “You here with Ryder?”

“Yeah, he’s around here somewhere.” He looks around then shrugs. “Can I get you a beer or something?”

“No, thanks.” I search the area for Axelle. “I’m not staying long.”

“Suit yourself.” He throws back a shot of something.

“Is Axelle around?”

“Yeah, man, she was just here. Might have hit the can or wandered off to pass out.” He laughs.

I clench my fists.

“She was pretty fucked up.”

Ryder, that piece of shit son of a bitch!

“I’m sure she’ll turn up…” His voice fades as I plow through the house, practically flipping over furniture to find her.

Don’t freak out, Killian. This isn’t the first time you’ve had to rescue her from a party. She’s probably outside or in the bathroom.

I move to the backyard, but she’s not there.

I knock on the bathroom door, and three girls stumble out. They try to talk, but I spin on my heel and head for the bedrooms, my blood boiling to the point of fucking murder.

I tell myself this isn’t my business. Axelle’s old enough to make her own decisions, she can fuck who she wants, and as far as I know, she probably does; although I’d never ask because the confirmation would destroy me.

But she’s drunk and Clifford is a dirtbag.

I wouldn’t put it past him to take advantage of her.

Dammit to fuck, why didn’t I just suck it up and bring her to the damn party? At least then I could’ve kept an eye on her all night and convinced her to go home when she’d had enough.

I fist my hands in my hair and try to calm my breathing.

No, I need to find her and get the hell out of here.

I bang on one of the doors. “Axelle, you in there?”

“Fuck off!”

I jerk away from the door at the sound of a woman’s voice, which is very much not Axelle’s.

I knock on the next door, but find it unlocked and cracked open. I peer inside. “Axelle…?”

It’s as if my mind has memorized every single curve of her body, because even with her lying there on her side, facing away from me, on top of a faded black comforter, I recognize Axelle immediately. She’s sound asleep.

“Shit.” What the motherfuck is she thinking? Any asshole without a soul could creep in here and— A growl rumbles in my chest as I cross to her. What the fuck is she wearing? My eyes devour her plumped-up breasts barely encased in a black lace bra, the flat plain of her belly that flares into hips wide enough to grab hold of, and her ass—fuck! I rein in my libido and focus on her perfect face relaxed with sleep.

I run a hand through her silken hair. “Axelle, baby…” I whisper.

Nothing.

I lean down and a slight hint of sugary booze is on her breath. I resist the urge to taste it from her lips. After all, that would make me the asshole without a soul. I scoop her into my arms; she weighs next to nothing. When I straighten, she startles, but only nuzzles deeper into my chest and inhales.

Is she…smelling me?

A long sigh falls from her lips, followed by a soft snore.

My blood heats just as my ribs seem to fill with something warm, something that feels really fucking good. Or maybe that’s just having her body so close to mine.

I walk carefully, turning sideways to squeeze out of the doorway without knocking any part of her on the doorframe. The hallway is a challenge, but pulling her tight to my chest, I’m able to negotiate it without cracking her head on the wall. People part out of the way as I head straight for the door, one girl even opening it for me.

“Thanks.”

I move to my Jeep that’s parked illegally across the street. With the thing stripped down without a top or doors, I easily lay her in the back. I contemplate strapping her in, but decide against it. It’s a short drive to her place and…shit. How the hell am I going to get her into her place? There are no pockets in her pants for keys, and I didn’t see her purse anywhere near the bed. I turn back to the house, but ripping the place apart to find her shit would mean leaving her out here alone.

“Fuckin’ hell,” I mumble and prop my hands on my hips.

Guess that only leaves one alternative.





Three





Killian





The closer I get to my place, the more pissed I become.

Why would Axelle put herself in this situation at a party, and where the hell was her fuckhead boyfriend?

She has a B average in her classes—which is impressive seeing as she hardly ever studies—so I know she’s not stupid. But something about her personality, it’s like being around dumb people making jackass decisions rubs off on her. She hitches her cart to the biggest fucking loser and sits back oblivious while he takes her for a ride.