Fighter(2)

I waved at Dylan and cupped my hands around my mouth to yell at him, “Who’s the jumper?”

His hands immediately shot up in the air. “You didn’t read the file?”

I’d been focused on dressing, coffee, brushing my teeth, coffee, finding my shoes, coffee, and then fixing my hair. They were lucky I remembered to grab a bulletproof vest. I shrugged.

A litany of curse words left him. “Are you kidding me?!”

I waited. He’d break. He’d tell me, acting like he was super disappointed. But I knew Dylan. He’d forget about this the instant we actually got the guy. Anyway I still had my fingers crossed, hoping the radio incident wouldn’t be remembered later. I could grab a radio back at the office…hopefully before anyone remembered to confront me about it.

He swore again, but shouted back, “Your ex.”

My what? I looked back at the house. Not recognizing it, I asked, “Which one?”

Then a curtain moved, and I saw him. Holy f*cking hell.

Dylan yelled, “Jaxon,” but he didn’t need to. I stared right into the piercing brown eyes of the one ex-boyfriend I’d hoped to never see again in my life.

Shit!

His brown hair was shaved into a crew cut, but it made him even more mouth-wateringly attractive. As I watched him look around, saw how the shadows played across his chiseled cheekbones and those perfect lips, I knew I could testify to exactly how they could be used. I thought the f*cker went to New York to pursue a modeling career. What was he doing back? And why was he the bail jumper? Well…okay. I wasn’t that surprised by that last part.

Then he saw me too, and I felt whiplash from the sting. His eyes narrowed. He stood there shirtless, his lean physique perfectly molded and sculpted. A smirk appeared, and I could read his thoughts. He was thinking of running for it.

My groin ached already. Jaxon was the guy I’d had to quit. For real. I had to quit him. He was an addiction, and he got me into trouble, rather than keeping me out of it. My brothers hated him, but oh god…my eyes trailed down his chest again, and I remembered all the reasons I’d stopped listening to them.

He leaned back, brought up his foot, and my hand went to grab my radio. It grabbed my shoulder instead. Crap. This was why I should’ve swallowed my pride and asked for an extra. He was really going to run, and Dylan was looking the other way.

“No!” I yelled.

Jaxon flashed me a grin. Good lord, he was gorgeous. He flung himself out the window, and I stopped admiring his perfect dimples.

I looked to see if Dylan had heard me. He hadn’t. His ear was pressed to his radio, and I heard buzz coming from the other side of the house. Then he took off, disappearing around the side.

“Dylan!”

He didn’t stop.

Jaxon had landed in a roll and was up on his feet. He looked like a damn cat. The athleticism in one of his pinkies equaled all of mine (even in good shape) and half my brothers’. We were screwed.

He dashed past me and laughed. “Looks like you’re going to have to tackle me, Doily. It’s just you and me.” He didn’t wait around, though. He turned and soared into the woods behind the house.

For a moment, just one moment, I was mesmerized by the image of his ass. He wore black cargo pants, and they molded to his backside. It’d been too long since I had some of that fun. Then I remembered what I was supposed to be doing, and I tore after him.

I screamed over my shoulder, “Runner!” I wasn’t holding my breath for help, and, gritting my teeth, I really was going to try to get him, just for the enjoyment of tackling him underneath me one more time.

Five minutes later, I realized I had no shot of getting him. My lungs protested, threatening to shut off completely if I didn’t slow down, and my legs weren’t helping. It was like they’d forgotten how to run. I almost pitched to the side twice, and my knees wanted to buckle, but in the end a log was my demise. I was running, or still trying—I was wheezing so loud that if I’d had a radio, I wouldn’t have been to talk into it—when I saw the log. I jumped over it and was airborne when I saw the second log.

I screamed as my foot hit the log and my ankle went one way while I went the other. I crumpled to the ground.

Searing pain flared all over me, making my insides feel like they were burning up. I clutched my ankle and pressed down. My brothers always said to stop the swelling. I’d never read the bounty-hunting first aid manual to understand why swelling was bad, but I held my ankle like it was a life preserver. As I bit my lip and rocked back and forth, the rest of me tried not to let loose the water works. I was a girl, but f*ck, I couldn’t act like a girl. No crying, or I’d hear about this moment twenty years from now.

“Doily.”

I glanced up. Jaxon had come back. He’d stopped a few feet away and watched me warily. Sweat ran down his chest, and he rested his hands on his hips. His pants slipped down, showing the V his muscles formed as they dipped beneath his waistband. As he knelt, his stomach muscles clenched even more tightly together.

I wanted to scream again. He looked so damn beautiful, and here I was. Sweaty. I felt my face and looked at the blood on my fingers. My hair was probably a mess, and I wore a pink tank top underneath my vest. It would’ve been hot, if the bottom wasn’t disintegrated into shattered ends. Looking down at my jeans, I saw a big hole had ripped, and horror filled me as I followed the rip from beginning to end. Yep. It began at my knee and ended at my crotch.