Chapter 35 Phoenix
PHOENIX
Iwatched Josh Davis unfold himself from the gleaming red Rolls like he owned the damn night. A spare tire replaced the one I’d slashed earlier.
Should’ve slashed all four.
He slammed the door and stumbled on the first step. He was drunk.
I holstered my gun.
“Who is it?” Rose hissed from the living room floor.
“Your ex fiancé.”
“My what?”
Her mouth dropped. “No way. Are you sure?” She jumped off the floor and darted to the front window.
Knock at the door.
She looked back at me, wide-eyed.
I squinted. “Any idea why he’d be showing up at your house at ten at night?”
“No. I promise; no.”
I reached for the handle. “Well, let’s see then, shall we?”
Her hand clamped down on my arm. “No. This is my house, Phoenix. Let me handle this.”
I didn’t move. Didn’t trust myself to. Rage simmered beneath my skin, but her grip—small, urgent—anchored me.
“Phoenix. Please. I’ve got this.”
Jaw clenched, I forced my feet to take a step back. Not easy. Every cell in my body was vibrating with the need to handle this my way.
Another knock—louder this time. The bastard was getting bold.
Rose opened the door, and there he was. Davis.
His bloodshot eyes snapped straight to mine—and froze. He looked like a man who’d seen a ghost. Then fury bloomed across his face, all alcohol and testosterone and bad decisions.
Good to see you, too, you fucking coward.
He barged in, shoulders cocked with the false confidence of someone who’s never lost a real fight. “What’s he doing here?”
I opened my mouth, but Rose cut me a warning glance: Let me handle this.
I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted blood.
“Phoenix is here to help me with some things around the house,” she said.
Help her with some things around the house? Funny, considering she’d just had her tongue in my mouth.
His sneer deepened. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“Because she called me,” I snapped, stepping forward. The air between us charged like a live wire.
He stepped in, blocking her from me. My fists curled at my sides.
I did not like this.
“You slit my tire tonight, Steele?” he sneered, his chest puffed like a bantam rooster.
“Your throat’s next if you don’t take a step back.”
He got in my face. “I’m going to add that to the bill for the damage you did to my equipment.”
I laughed, short and sharp. “Staple it to my medical bills. Since you’re so damn interested in those.”
“Guys,” Rose cut in, shoving between us, her eyes locking with mine. Do not engage.
I tried. God help me, I tried.
She turned to Davis. “What are you doing here anyway?”
His eyes dragged from mine back to her. I hated that shift. Hated that he still looked at her like he had some claim.
“I heard about the break-in. Why didn’t you call, Rose?”
Her name coming out of his mouth was gasoline on fire.
“Because I handled it, Josh.”
“With this guy?” His voice dripped with disbelief as he jerked a thumb at me.
She reached past him and opened the door. “Yes. With him. And I’m fine. You don’t need to check up on me anymore. It’s time for you to leave.”
He loomed over her. “You were always so damn stubborn. You’re gonna take better care of yourself, and it’s not going to be here.”
“I’m fine here.”
“With him?” His laugh was derisive. “Seriously, Rose? The guy belongs in a padded room.”
It wasn’t the insult that made me snap.
It was the second he grabbed her.
His hand latched onto her arm and yanked—and my fist collided with his face like a sledgehammer.
Everything went red.
Two former Marines. One fueled by pride. The other by something much more dangerous.
Possession.
Love.
She shouted something behind me, but I was gone. Slipped into that headspace I knew too damn well. I swung. He ducked. He swung. Missed. But I didn’t. I tackled him through the doorway and we hit the porch hard.
He got in a lucky headbutt to my jaw. Pain flashed white. I laughed.
Like a fucking lunatic, I laughed.
Because this wasn’t just a bar brawl. No, this was two trained killers letting go of the leash. Blood, bone, rage—this was our language. This was home.
He came up swinging. I landed a right hook, he got in a body shot, then a knee to my leg.
But it wasn’t the knee that rattled me.
It was the punch to my skull.
It lit up the right side of my head like a live grenade. Not just pain—wrongness. A jagged, burning pressure I hadn’t felt since the blast.
My vision wavered.
Then Rose’s voice broke through the chaos. Not yelling at us to stop—but warning.
“No! Josh, don’t hit his head!”
Her voice. The panic in it. The knowing in it.
Josh’s eyes locked on mine—and he smirked.
He knew.
The son of a bitch knew.
He lunged. I met him mid-air. We crashed off the porch and into the mud, limbs tangled, fists flying.
Like a caged animal, the guy bucked out of my hold, then, one punch, another, another.
Pain.
Pain.
Pain.
Something different snapped in me. My survival instinct. Our fight was no longer a game, no longer a release of pent up rage. I was going to get myself legitimately hurt, possibly worse.
In a wave of adrenaline, I swung with every bit of strength in my body. I swung to survive.
My fist connected with his eye. Blood sprayed like paint, then streamed down his face, blinding him.
He swung back, messy, though. I caught his arm mid-swing, twisted it.
He released a bellow of pain as his body followed the flow and his face slammed into the ground.
Chest heaving, I pinned and straddled him, and leaned down into his ear.
Blood pooled in the dirt beneath him.
“You ever come to Rose’s house again, I’ll make sure you never see out of that eye again.”
His grunt told me he was dazed. Down for the count.
I spat the blood from my mouth and pushed off him.
The world around me started to register in a hazy whomp, whomp, whomp with my pulse.
Rose.
I turned to see her, standing on the porch with her hand over her mouth and tears streaming down her cheeks.
My heart sank.
A bit unsteady on my feet, I crossed the dirt to the porch and wrapped my hands around her waist.
“I’m sorry. Baby, please, don’t cry,” I whispered. “Are you okay?”
She fisted my shirt, a desperation in her eyes I’ll never forget. “Are you okay? Phoenix, are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I gripped the rail and hopped onto the porch. “Come here. I’m so sorry. Come here.”
She fell into my chest and sobbed. We rocked back and forth.
The sound of a car door opening pulled my attention. Josh’s face looked like a crushed tomato as he paused by the driver’s side.
“She’s mine, Davis,” I said. “She’s mine now.”
He scowled, looking at her in my arms, then dropped inside, slammed the door and disappeared down the hill.
At that moment I knew two things. One, I wouldn’t have to worry about Josh Davis again.
Two, Josh Davis definitely wasn’t Rose’s stalker.