Cross Checked (Kimball Falls Fury #1)
Prologue
Luke
The air outside The Sin Bin felt wet enough to drown in.
Late August in Kimball Falls always carried that thick lake-country humidity that clung to skin and settled heavy inside your lungs, turning the entire town sticky beneath neon signs and bar lights.
The windshield of my truck fogged faintly around the edges while music thumped from somewhere inside the building, bass vibrating low enough to pulse through the steering column beneath my hands.
I’d been parked across the street for an hour and sixteen minutes.
Not that I was counting.
The engine ticked softly as it cooled, the old leather seat creaking beneath my weight every time I shifted forward to look through the front windows again.
The Sin Bin glowed gold and neon pink against the dark street, crowded with college kids in backwards hats and Fury hoodies while servers weaved through tables balancing trays of beer and wings.
And there she was.
Bliss.
My pulse thudded once, hard enough I felt it behind my ribs.
She laughed at something one of the customers said while swiping a rag across the bar top, blonde hair falling over one shoulder beneath the warm hanging lights.
Tiny black shorts. Oversized Sin Bin tee tied at her waist. Bare legs that used to wrap around my hips while she cried and told me she loved me.
Mine.
The word settled heavy in my chest as another guy leaned across the bar toward her smiling too damn wide. Some college kid. Fury hoodie. Drunk already from the way he swayed slightly against the counter while Bliss poured his beer.
Then his hand touched her.
Low on her back.
Friendly.
Casual.
Possessive enough that something hot and violent twisted behind my ribs instantly.
I counted to three before he moved it.
Three full seconds.
Three seconds too long.
The steering wheel groaned faintly beneath my grip, worn rubber pressing into my palms while heat climbed slowly up the back of my neck. My jaw tightened hard enough to ache as I watched her smile politely at him like she didn’t even notice what he’d done.
Or maybe she did.
Maybe she just liked the attention now.
The thought sent another ugly pulse of anger through me, sharp enough that my heartbeat started knocking hard against my throat.
She used to know better.
That was the thing that kept scraping at me lately.
Bliss used to understand boundaries. Used to understand who she belonged to.
Now she walked around this town pretending she was free just because she went away to college and started surrounding herself with rich little athletes and spoiled campus boys who thought being twenty-one made them men.
It didn’t.
None of them knew her.
Not really.
They didn’t know she still slept with the television on after nightmares because silence made her panic. Didn’t know she checked parking lots before getting out of her Jeep or carried pepper spray tucked inside her purse like a nervous habit she couldn’t break.
Good.
That meant she remembered.
A group of girls pushed through the front doors laughing loudly enough to carry across the street, and Bliss glanced up automatically at the noise. For one brief second her eyes scanned the parking lot instinctively before moving on again.
The corner of my mouth pulled slightly.
She was still looking and fully fucking aware.
That familiar tightness in my chest loosened just enough to let me breathe again.
People liked pretending instincts came from nowhere, but they didn’t. Fear got taught into people. Conditioned there slowly until their body learned danger before their mind caught up.
And Bliss had learned me very well.
The truck smelled faintly like old cigarettes and rain-damp asphalt, humid air drifting through the cracked windows while I kept watching her move behind the bar.
Every little thing she did dug deeper under my skin lately.
The way she tucked her hair behind one ear while listening.
The way she laughed with her whole body when something genuinely caught her off guard.
The tiny crease between her brows whenever men flirted too aggressively and she started looking for escape routes without realizing she was doing it.
I noticed all of it.
Always had.
The Bennett family trusted me long before they should’ve.
That part almost made me laugh now.
Ryker used to throw me his keys and tell me to drive her home after parties because “Luke’s a good guy.” Her old man let me stay for dinners. Football games. Backyard barbecues. Holidays. I was practically family before Bliss even understood why I watched her differently than everybody else did.
Sweet little Bliss Bennett.
Always following her brothers around in oversized hoodies and messy ponytails. Loud mouth. Big eyes. Too trusting for her own good. She looked at me like I hung the damn moon back then, and maybe that should’ve been the warning sign.
But nobody warned her.
Nobody protected her from me because nobody thought they had to.
My heartbeat slowed slightly as I watched her bend to grab something from beneath the counter, shirt lifting just enough to show a strip of soft skin above her shorts.
Mine.
The word came quicker this time.
Meaner.
A truck pulled into the lot beside me too fast, headlights briefly flooding the cab with harsh white light before cutting out again. College kids climbed out laughing, one of them already wearing a Fury jersey with MERCER stretched across the back in bold black lettering.
My jaw locked immediately.
Mercer.
I’d heard the name enough lately around town to make me sick of it already. Rich-boy hockey captain. NHL prospect. Campus celebrity. The kind of arrogant little prick girls embarrassed themselves over because he had dimples and money and played a sport people in this town worshipped like religion.
The kind of boy Bliss always swore she hated.
And yet lately his name kept surfacing around her too much for my liking.
A cold pulse moved through my chest.
Not fear.
Never fear.
Something uglier.
Possession sharpened into warning.
The hockey boys looked at women like temporary entertainment. Disposable. A good time until the next season started and they moved on to somebody newer, prettier, easier.
Bliss wasn’t built for men like that.
She was built for me.
The thought settled calm and absolute in the center of my chest while I watched her laugh again inside the bar, unaware I was sitting twenty feet away memorizing every expression on her face.
She thought distance changed things.
Thought college changed things.
Thought pretending hard enough somehow erased everything between us.
But Bliss had always confused silence with freedom.
Just because she stopped saying my name didn’t mean she stopped belonging to me.
A loud crack of laughter burst from inside the bar again as the crowd shifted near the front windows. Bliss glanced toward the clock behind the counter before reaching for her apron strings, exhaustion visible in the way her shoulders sagged slightly.
Closing time.
Finally.
My pulse started beating harder instantly, the sound filling my ears in dull heavy thuds while anticipation crawled slow and electric beneath my skin.
Outside, the town hummed softly beneath streetlights and late-summer heat. Somewhere farther downtown a motorcycle revved through the night while students spilled drunkenly between bars wrapped in laughter and cigarette smoke.
Normal Thursday night.
Except for the pressure building steadily inside my chest.
Because lately Bliss kept testing me.
Ignoring calls. Pulling away. Acting brave in ways she never used to.
And she still didn’t understand what happened if she pushed me too far.
The front doors opened a few minutes later.
Warm light spilled across the sidewalk as Bliss stepped outside alone, locking the door behind her while the humid wind lifted strands of blonde hair around her face.
Beautiful.
Mine.
My fingers tightened slowly around the steering wheel again, old rubber creaking softly beneath my palms while my heartbeat pounded hard enough to feel in my teeth.
She glanced down the street automatically before heading toward her Jeep, keys looped between her fingers exactly the way I taught her years ago.
Smart girl.
Still scared.
Good.
Because fear meant she hadn’t forgotten me yet.
And she never would.