Defending Everly (Mountain Mercenaries, #5)(20)

Ball was taller than the three men, but waves of pain were still shooting from between his legs, and the man who’d attacked him first was able to get in two punches before Ball came to his senses. In a way, the hits to his face helped redirect the pain he was feeling away from his balls to his head.

Using some of the moves he’d learned in the Coast Guard, as well as those his fellow Mountain Mercenaries had taught him, Ball fought back.

But after a minute, he was dismayed to realize he was still losing the fight. Three against one wasn’t exactly fair, but the men didn’t care. They hadn’t demanded anything of him, and Ball had no idea why they’d targeted him.

Until one of the men who’d been waiting around the corner of the store said, “Knock him out already so we can get the girl!”

Fuck that. They weren’t getting their hands on Everly.

“Fuck that!” a feminine voice said from nearby, and before Ball could warn her away, Everly was in the thick of things.

Now that he wasn’t fighting three men at one time, it wasn’t long before Ball had knocked one of the assholes unconscious.

He turned to assist Everly—and instead could only stare. The man who’d kicked him in the groin was moaning in pain on the ground, and she had the other guy in a headlock. She was shorter than he was by two or three inches, and yet he was still bent backward, totally under her control.

A man wearing khakis, a polo with the name of the gas station on it, and a ball cap ran around the corner. “The cops are on their way . . . Holy shit!”

Ball had to give it to the young man. He collected himself and said, “I’ve got some rope in the back!” He then turned and ran around the corner, presumably to get the rope so they could secure the punks who’d attacked them.

Ball couldn’t help himself. He walked up to the first man—who was now on his hands and knees, looking like he was thinking about getting up—and kicked him in the balls, just as the man had done to him.

The man fell to his side, crying out with pain.

Satisfied, Ball turned to Everly. She’d effectively cut off the guy’s oxygen enough to knock him out and was lowering him to the gravel.

So many feelings and thoughts were running through his mind in that moment.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

Ball nodded but didn’t say anything.

Her eyes narrowed. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” he said, after a beat. “Thank you.”

Everly nodded, and then turned to make sure the men she’d incapacitated weren’t going anywhere anytime soon.

Ball couldn’t believe how fast she’d taken the two men down. And she hadn’t even hesitated.

Had just waded into the fight and done what needed to be done. She’d had his back. And his front. It hadn’t mattered that she was female. She’d just done it. And quite effectively, at that.

As if struck by lightning, or smacked on the back of his head à la Gibbs on the TV show NCIS, Ball knew that it wasn’t women in general he had a hard time working with . . . it was only Riley.

She’d been almost a decade younger than he’d been, and she’d admitted once that she’d joined the military for the benefits. Her heart wasn’t in the job, ever . . . and he’d missed it. Well, he hadn’t exactly missed it, but maybe he’d been conceited enough to think that he could change her mind.

But as he stood there, blood trickling from his split lip while he continued to stare at Everly, who didn’t even seem to have a mark on her, he realized he’d always known it wasn’t gender that made someone a good partner. It was passion. Passion for the job. And Everly had it in spades.

He owed her an apology. A big fucking apology. But now wasn’t the time, as their hands were full with these assholes, dealing with Elise’s purse, and seeing if there was any other information they could glean at the gas station about Elise’s disappearance.

But one thing he already knew for sure . . . Ball had been wrong about working with Everly.

She was one hell of a partner, and he wouldn’t hesitate to let her know that she could have his back, and he’d have hers, any day of the week.





Chapter Four

Everly was exhausted. After the run-in with the petty thieves—who had nothing to do with her missing sister and had only wanted to make a quick buck—and giving statements to the cops, they’d stood by impatiently as an officer accompanied them across the street to pick up Elise’s purse on the side of the road. They’d both been shocked to see her cell phone inside as well. It had been turned off, but it was there.

Ball wanted to take it and give it to Meat, but the cop insisted that it go to the LAPD’s own forensic technicians. Everly knew Ball was upset, and frankly, so was she. She had a feeling Meat would be able to get results a hell of a lot faster than the LAPD.

They rode to the station with the officer at the scene, and talked to Detective Diego Ramirez, who’d been assigned to Elise’s case. He’d discussed with them the hundreds of teenagers who were reported missing every week . . . and how most weren’t actually missing.

Ball had almost lost his cool.

“I don’t care what the statistics say, Elise Adams is missing. Pure and simple. I get it, you don’t want to waste resources looking for someone who isn’t actually in trouble, but Elise is not on drugs. She’s not acting out. She’s fucking gone. A runaway wouldn’t have dropped her purse with money and her phone in it. No way in hell. Now, you can either help us look for her, or you can give us back her purse, with her phone, and let us find her on our own.”