Broken Fighter: BBW, New Adult Romance (4 page)

A scream rent the night, jerking Jackson’s attention up just in time to see the scene playing out in front of him as if it were slow motion played over a measly few seconds.
 

Emily was running over the sloping green lawn from the back corner of the building. Streaking passed her, a large, darkly clad man blocked her path, redirecting her, herding her, so that she ran the other way, disappearing over the slope of the hill. Like a cat enjoying the chase, the large man let her get a head start before charging after her.

Jackson was out of his SUV and running before he was even conscious of his decision to do so. His feet furiously pounded the soft ground, covering the distance to the top of the hill in mere seconds but not before Emily’s disembodied scream filled the night once more.
 

Cresting the hill, Jackson’s answering cry of rage lodged in his throat. Too far away to stop it, he watched as Emily’s attacker reached her, his outstretched arm tangling a huge hand in her thick tresses. With one hard yank, the large man snapped her head and neck backward as his body surged passed. Once passed her, using his arm like a sling shot, he wrenched his arm forward, lifting Emily off her feet and propelling her through the air. Then, with the same ferocity as spiking a ball, he drove her down, face first, hard and fast into the lush grass that hid the unforgiving ground.
 

Her legs bent and curled painfully over her back as her body absorbed the sudden stop in momentum. Just as quickly, her body uncurled itself to come to rest, limbs splayed on the ground around her as her attacker positioned himself above her. With his hand still twisted in the hair at the top of her head, her attacker put his knee to the back of her head and gave it the full of his weight, pressing her face into the pliant earth, smothering her.

 
Emily fought, clawing above her at the man’s fully clothed thigh and the enormous hand anchored in her hair. With legs kicking at nothing but the unmoving earth and volumeless air, her desperate hands turned to scratching and clawing the cold ground, reaching blindly for anything that might save her.

With missile precision, Jackson’s flying body wrapped itself around Emily’s attacker with an arm hooked around the other man’s ribs, sending both tumbling in a roll made of elbows and knees with grappling hands and heels. Maneuvering the man like a rag doll, Jackson fastened his legs around the attacker’s waist from behind before stretching his heals low on his hips, bowing him backward. Moving one arm below the assailant’s chin, Jackson locked his arms in place and quickly choked the unknown assailant into unconsciousness.
 

A couple of body lengths away, Emily struggled to rise on unsteady legs. Gasping sobs tore from her throat as she looked in horror at her blood drenched hands. In a sudden flurry, she slapped at her face and hair with a desperate need to free herself of any remaining clumps of earth and grass that might be clinging to her, smearing bright red blood across her cheeks from where it poured unheeded from her nose.
 

Jackson untangled himself from Emily’s attacker, shoving the man aside like discarded refuse. “Emily, stop.” He was on his feet and standing in front of her before she even registered that he had spoken. “Stop, Emily,” he said, grasping her wrists in his large, strong hands with a gentle firmness that finally had her lifting her wide, frightened eyes to his.

“I couldn’t breathe,” she whispered and then took several gasping breaths as if her body suddenly remembered a need to make up for the stolen moments.
 

“Hey, hey—I’ve got you,” Jackson said as he stepped closer, wrapping her trembling body in his strong, warm arms. He knew that he was getting blood on his shirt but didn’t care.
She’s worth a little blood
. The truth startled him. After his accident, his drive to heal, his drive to return to the octagon had closed his mind to everyone else’s needs. Yet, now, he did need something else. He needed answers; he needed to take care of a girl he had only just met.
 

“Who’s the guy that attacked you, Emily?”
Attacker
, he thought with a mental snarl, knowing the word was far from reality.
Would-be killer
, he corrected himself. “Do you know him?” He felt her forehead move against his chest as she shook her head no.
 

“Okay, you stand right here,” he said, pulling away to hold her at arm’s length. Though her nose had stopped pouring blood, Emily’s shaky legs gave way, and she sank to the ground as Jackson made sure her descent was slow and gentle. “Like I said, you sit right here.” He watched with concern as her entire body shook and her teeth chattered, shock setting in. “It won’t be long, honey. I’ll be right back.”
 

Moving with long, sure strides, Jackson returned to kneel over the still unconscious man. Jackson gauged the unconscious man as being nearly as tall as himself but more heavily built—not fat, just thick. The man was dressed in tailored black slacks and a black leather bomber jacket. If he wasn’t mistaken, the soft leather loafers on the man’s feet were Italian.
And probably hand made.
 

Leaning forward, Jackson ran his hands down the front of the man’s jacket before checking the pockets of his slacks. Finding nothing, he patted down the jacket again, this time feeling a bulge at chest level. Flipping the jacket open, Jackson found its inside pocket from which he pulled a nice, shiny and very official looking police badge. “Shit,” he swore under his breath as his gaze lifted to Emily, her face bruised and smeared with blood. His mind flashed with the memory of how the cop had put the full force of his weight onto the back of her head, pushing her face into the earth, smothering her—killing her.

“We gotta go,” Jackson said, dropping the badge onto the prone man’s chest as he shifted his weight onto his heels and then stood, the entire process one fluid, effortless motion. Thoughts of fingerprints flashed in his mind, freezing him in place. Bending, he scooped the badge up and deposited it in his own pocket before returning to Emily. “We have to go,” he said again, this time with more emphasis as he helped her regain her feet with hands less gentle than before. “What have you gotten me into, girl?” he muttered under his breath as he walked them at a fast shuffle, Emily tucked tightly against him, his strong arm protectively around her and supporting her.

Reaching the SUV, Jackson opened the passenger door just as Emily’s knees buckled again. Catching her before she had the chance to slide to the ground, he lifted her in his arms in a cradled position that had her warmth invading his body as the scent of her hair seared itself into his memory.
 

I should have listened, momma,
he thought to himself. The strongest woman he had ever known had pushed him hard to give up fighting, even threatening to put sugar in his gas tank, but stubbornness and the need to prove to himself that life—and the wreck—had not defeated him, had pushed him to become, in some ways, more than he had ever been. Yet he couldn’t deny that a life once effortless to him was now a constant battle of mind over body and doubt niggled at the back of his head, questioning his decision to sacrifice
everything
for the chance of returning to the glory he had once known.
 

But none of it mattered anymore if he ended up in prison for aiding and abetting a fugitive on the run for murder. As frustration warred with the need to protect, Jackson handled Emily with as much gentleness as he could, pushing aside his need to hurry, his need to escape the threat of a more ruined life.
 

Settling Emily into the passenger seat he then moved quickly to the driver’s side. Climbing in, he watched Emily’s hands shake as she attempted to lock her safety belt into place. It was not until his sure hands steadied hers that she was able to slide the latch’s tongue into the lock.
 

“Going to be sick,” she said, looking up at him as her soft palate bulged, her chin tucked tight against her throat. Reaching across her with lightening speed, Jackson pushed the passenger door open just in time for her to lean out and vomit up the one meal she had been lucky enough to eat that day.

With Emily ridding herself of the last remnants of her meal in sounds gagging to the surest of stomachs, Jackson rubbed her back, closing his eyes to grapple with his thoughts. A dark part of himself conjured up the image of undoing her safety belt and giving her a sharp push, sending her tumbling to the ground to be abandoned by him. Without her ruinous presence, he would return to a life of quiet normalcy, ready to focus on saving himself. Yet, his hand continued to rub the delicate slope of her back, patting her when she choked and coughed, sputtering as her body let go of everything it held on to, a feat he just couldn’t seem to achieve.

Done and empty, Emily sat back and closed her eyes, her face once again pale and bloodless, her whole body trembling. Reaching across her, Jackson grasped her door with his fingertips and pulled it closed with a finality that he sensed intoned his doom.

Sitting up to face forward in his own seat, he gripped the steering wheel with white knuckled hands.
Three deep breaths
, Jackson heard the words of his ringside coach as he focused on filling his lungs.
Three deep breaths and then you’re ready to fight some more.

Jackson turned the key in the ignition, grinding the gears of the already running motor. “Fuck,” he muttered, his heart feeling leaden. While he had been there to save Emily, his eyes scanned the surrounding emptiness with the knowledge that no one was going to be coming to save him—from her. “Time to go,” he said, knowing he was making a choice he would probably regret.
 

Two and a half hours later found them on the interstate driving north east and so tired that Emily had fallen asleep while Jackson considered using tape to keep his eyes open. He didn’t have much money to spare—okay, he didn’t have any money to spare—but Jackson knew they needed a hotel room. His own plan for getting home had consisted of pressing as hard as possible for as long as he could, napping at roadside rest stops along the way. But, looking over at Emily, her face wan and drained, her breathing barely visible with the faint rise and fall of her chest, he didn’t want to push her beyond what she had already experienced. She looked ready to fade away. She looked frail.

Taking the first offramp that promised fast food plus a cheap night’s rest, Jackson found the nearest 24-hour fast food place he could. He was beyond hungry after the evening’s two fights, his body screaming for nourishment. Less than ten minutes later, he had a Krystal’s bag loaded full of their tiny, steamed sliders and a key to a motel room in hand. Pulling up to park in front of their assigned room, he glanced over at Emily. She was still sleeping, her face shadowed with what remained of her night’s trials—a mixture of dirt, blood and bruises.

Jackson got the motel room’s door open, putting his duffle bag and the food inside before coming back for Emily. Opening the passenger side door, he reached across her to undo her seat belt before sliding strong arms under her. It wasn’t until he lifted her that she woke up to find herself cradled against Jackson’s strong chest. A flash of confusion caused her to tense but it quickly passed. He felt her relax and soften into his hardness, accepting his care of her as she laid her head on his shoulder.
 

“Food!” Emily said, perking up as soon as they crossed the small room’s threshold. She lifted one leg as if to unfold herself from Jackson’s arms and he let her slide to the ground, steadying her when she wobbled momentarily. Reaching the bag of steamed sliders, Emily sat down half on and half off the bed, one foot flat on the floor and her other leg curled under her. Peering inside the bag, she said with near reverence, “and fries too.”

“Hey, I know how to treat a lady,” Jackson said, sitting down on the bed opposite her, the bag of food between them. Reaching for the bed stand, he retrieved two sodas and handed her one.
 

For a time, they ate in companionable silence yet with each minute that ticked by, Jackson felt the heavy weariness of the road sink deeper. His whole body ached.

“Thank you…for what you did, saving me,” Emily said around a mouth full of food.
 

Jackson’s eyes studied her. Her color had improved and her nose looked as if it might be okay. “How’s your face?”

Flinching at the uncomfortable reminder, Emily took her time in answering. “It’s okay,” she finally said, avoiding his gaze by digging through the food bag for some ketchup.

“That guy, the one who tried to kill you…he was a cop.”

Emily shrugged her shoulders, still avoiding returning his gaze.

“Did you know him?”

She shook her head no as she squeezed the ketchup tube’s tangy contents onto a small bundle of fries she held gripped together.

“Why’d you run from him if you didn’t know him?”

Emily shrugged again. “He came up and asked me if I was Emily Brochner—my name before being adopted. I said no and tried to walk off. He grabbed me and tried to drag me into the bathroom. I got loose and ran out the back.” She paused before continuing. “He didn’t say anything to me besides asking my name. That was it.” Her voice cracked but she lifted her gaze to meet his, her eyes unwavering, defiant. “Next thing that happened was him trying to kill me.”

Jackson remembered the sight of the large man pressing his full weight onto the back of Emily’s head, pushing her face into the soft earth, smothering her.

Emily shrugged her shoulder. “He just asked, ‘Are you Emily Brochner?’ That’s all he said to me. And then he tried to kill me.”

Jackson saw the unshed tears grow in Emily’s eyes. Dropping her head as if to inspect her food, she brushed a tear from her cheek with a quick swipe of her hand before taking another bite of her slider.

Jackson wanted to comfort her, wanted to do more than comfort her. A very primal part of himself wanted to take her, make her his, and then protect her from all the dangers of the world. He wanted to be her hero—wanted to be somebody’s hero. It had been a
long
time since he had been anybody’s hero.
But how could anyone be a hero to kryptonite
, he wondered. He had to keep his distance.