Fight For Me Read online

  Fight For Me

  The Everetts of Tyler, Book 2

  Hayden Braeburn

  Fight For Me

  Hayden Braeburn

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright © 2012 Hayden Braeburn

  Cover image by Romance Novel Covers

  Cover Design by Jodi Jo

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as fact. Any resemblance to actual events, organizations, or persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable, right to access and read the text of this ebook onscreen. Except for use in reviews or in promotional posts or similar uses, no part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the author.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from Live For Me, The Everetts of Tyler, Book 3

  Excerpt from Neighborhood Watch, An Aylesford Story

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Cassidy Everett rounded the corner just as Dylan Black came down the hall, his bandaged chest bare, his hair wet from a shower. Dammit, she had to get him into some clothes—she was getting entirely too used to a half-dressed man in her house. She had the fleeting thought of licking him all over before she pushed it aside and chose a more suitable greeting. She was supposed to be taking care of him, helping him heal, getting him back on his feet, not waking up in sweaty sheets after hot and heavy dreams revolving around his long, muscled body. She shook her head, sending her ponytail swishing behind her, and pasted on a smile. “Morning. How are you feeling today?” There, that sounded reasonable.

  “Besides the fact that I can barely take care of myself, I'm fine,” he said, sweeping his left arm down towards shorts that chose that moment to slip.

  Oh Lord. His shorts were barely hanging on, and she was torn between helping him by pulling them up or helping herself by pulling them down. She gave herself a mental kick. Get a hold of yourself, Everett. She swallowed and took a step toward him, one hand out, hoping her blatant hunger wasn't telegraphed on her face. Dylan caught the runaway shorts with his left hand, but not before revealing enough for her heart to speed, thumping loudly in her ears.

  His golden eyes heated as he held on the waistband. “Can you help?”

  She bit her lip as she contemplated just pulling his shorts down and having her wicked way with him. The fire in his eyes told her he knew exactly what she was thinking. With trembling fingers, Cassidy tied his drawstring, yet couldn't bring herself to tear her hands away from his body.

  “Cassidy...”

  She watched him harden and lengthen beneath the red fabric and barely resisted the urge to run her hands over his hardness. Wow. She should step away. Run away. Anything. Instead of heeding the warning bells in her head, she skimmed her hands up his washboard abs to his hard chest. How could he look so amazing in a sling and plastic covered gauze? She knew she should step back, she knew he'd been shot in the back and shoulder less than a week ago, but she stepped forward instead, scooting closer until her hard nipples were against his bandaged torso, separated by only the thin cotton of her shirt. Aching to be closer to him, she shifted to encircle his neck with her arms. He was so tall, she still had to tilt her head to look into his molten gold eyes, the heat of his body burning her through her clothes. She shouldn't be here like this, shouldn't do what she was going to do anyway. She shut her conscience off. She would only kiss him once, and then she would worry and feel guilty tomorrow.

  She didn't know who moved first, but his mouth was on hers, the kiss hot and hungry, and she never wanted to stop. She sank into his lips, the hard wall of his chest pressing against her, the beating of his heart vibrating in her own chest. It could have been minutes or hours they kissed in the hallway, but somewhere her brain clicked on. She had to stop before she mounted a battered man. She pushed away from him, her hormones screaming at her as she did. “Um... Wow.” Understatement of the year, Everett.

  “I could kiss you all day,” he told her, his breath ragged.

  “I had to stop.” Her cheeks heated, and she ran her tongue over her bottom lip. “Otherwise, I'd hurt you.”

  “I'm a big boy.”

  She couldn't resist. She ran her hand over the impressive bulge in his shorts. “Yes, yes you are,” she agreed, her voice thick and raspy to her own ears. What had she done? Quickly, she pulled her hand away, clenching her fingers into a fist. She shouldn't touch him. She turned to face the wall. Maybe if she couldn't see him, she could tamp down the lust gripping her. She took a deep breath, held it for a moment before letting it out slowly. “I really, really want to do all kinds of things to you I shouldn't.” She sighed. “For so many reasons.”

  He turned her around with his left hand to silence her with another kiss, shorter but no less passionate. “I'm sure we can find a way.” He kissed her again then, stroking her with his tongue. “If you want.”

  Oh, did she want. She was practically dripping on the floor, but wanting a man with such intensity was foreign to her. Coupled with the circumstances, she couldn't risk it. This was a man unafraid to die in the defense of others, a hero many times over. This was a man who could break down her walls, and no matter how tempting he was, she refused to open herself up for that. He was only here until he was able to take care of himself, and then he would disappear. She straightened. “I just don't want to hurt you.” She stepped from his embrace, wrapped her arms around her midsection. “I don't do casual sex.”

  He crossed to her, tipped her chin up with his left hand. “What made you think I was lookin' for casual?”

  “I...You...” C'mon, Everett, you're a flippin' attorney. “I'd hurt you,” she finally said.

  “Physically or emotionally?”

  She blew out a breath. “Yes.”

  Dylan narrowed his eyes as he studied her, and she felt as if he could see straight through her. What did he see? They stood still for long beats, her heart pounding in her ears until he finally said, “Okay then.” He took a step back, putting space between them but not letting her go. “Who hurt you, Cassie?”

  Dammit, those eyes saw all. She pulled from his grasp. “It doesn't matter now.”

  “It will,” he promised quietly.

  He ran his gaze down her pajama-clad form, the bulge in his shorts making itself known yet again. She was wearing a tiny white top held up by thin straps and a pair of green plaid boxer shorts. She knew he could have her out of her clothes in ten seconds flat, even with one arm immobilized, but he didn't make a move toward her. She couldn't decide if she was relieved or disappointed, so she decided instead to ignore it. “We have to get ready for court,” she said over her shoulder as she fled toward her own bathroom.

  ~*~

  Dylan stared at the suit he'd had Cassidy pick up from his house. How the hell was he supposed to dress? He could barely pull on a pair of shorts. He was used to taking care of himself no matter his injuries, but dressing for court involved buttons. Sucking up his pride, he hol
lered, “Cassidy!”

  She was at the door quickly, her own navy blue suit in place, the ruffled white shirt beneath her jacket accentuating already impressive curves. He wondered what she wore under the tailored suit. Lace? Satin? He stopped himself. She was convinced she would hurt him, and he had already pushed his luck this morning. He shook his head to clear the images that had run through it. He may never get the taste of her off his mind, but if she wanted to pretend they didn't want to devour each other every time they were in the same room, that was her prerogative.

  She glanced around the room, her delicate brows drawn together. “Do you need help?” she asked quietly.

  Since he was still standing there in the same shorts she had tied less than hour ago, he almost laughed at her question. Of course he needed help, otherwise she wouldn't be staring at him and he wouldn't still be half-naked. “You could say that. I can do zippers, it's just buttons and ties that don't work one-handed.”

  Her lips compressed into a line and he could almost see her thoughts. She was afraid to touch him and combust again, but he couldn't testify in red basketball shorts, bandages, and a sling either. She pinched the bridge of her nose, the battle in her head clearly visible. When she dropped her hand from her face, she let out a heavy breath, and he wondered which side had won. “What do you need me to do?”

  He avoided that land mine of an offer, instead asking, “If you could unbutton the pants and shirt for—” he cut himself off when he realized he needed a pair of boxers instead of the shorts they'd struggled with earlier. “Shit. I need underwear first.” Those dark eyes of hers widened as she unconsciously licked her lips and he hid a smile. If the thought of him without underwear could do that... No. He wouldn't push her.

  “I'll just,” she started, her gaze bouncing around the room. “I'll let you attend to that, and I'll be back in a minute.” She turned so quickly she almost fell on her way out his door. He bit back a grimace. The next few weeks would be torture, but he had nothing but time. Cassidy Everett wasn't a weekend special. She was different, and he was a patient man.

  ~*~

  Dylan glared at the attorney questioning him. “Yes, I covered Mason Everett's body with my own to shield him from fire. It was instinct and training.”

  “This was one day after you entered into a contractual agreement with my client to do what, exactly, Mr. Black?”

  He gripped the arm of the chair so tightly he was afraid it would crumble in his hand. It took effort to unclench his jaw, but he managed to answer, “Ms. McClaren led me to believe her children were endangered by Ms. Nemecek.” He stared at Priscilla McClaren. The woman was a piece of work, acting as if Katerina was a drug dealer and child abuser. He wanted to snarl at her, but instead kept his expression calm. Answering the questions was all that was required of him and then he could go back to Cassidy's and rest. “I agreed to extract and protect her children if necessary.”

  “But there were no children, were there?” Gregory Peters asked, his lips turned up in a smug half-smile.

  Dylan shook his head. “No, there were not.” He flicked his gaze to the judge before continuing. “When it became obvious there were no children present, and no evidence of children ever living on the property, I concluded Ms. McClaren had hired me in order to distract the operatives hired by Mr. Everett to protect Ms. Nemecek.” If only he'd realized it sooner, maybe he wouldn't be sitting there in a stupid contraption for his arm.

  “A distraction?” Peters prompted, his muddy eyes dimming.

  “Yes. When it was apparent to me Mr. Everett was in danger, I teamed up with Mr. O'Dell.”

  “Sergeant O'Dell just accepted you at face value?” Peters asked, his tone incredulous.

  Dylan gave the attorney a wry smile. Two could play at this game, and he would win. “If you insist on using Sergeant O'Dell's rank, I ask you extend me the same courtesy.”

  “I apologize, Master Sergeant Black,” Peters replied smoothly.

  His smile was still in place when he answered the question. “No, Sergeant O'Dell did not accept me at face value. He had his partner run me, and I have no doubt he was prepared to take me out should it appear I was a threat to his charge.” He winced. The hard wooden chair was not comfortable in the slightest and Peters was questioning him like he'd done something wrong by protecting Mason.

  “How would you characterize Ms. McClaren's mental state when she obtained your services?” Peters asked.

  Dylan tilted his head, catching Cassidy's narrowed eyes from her seat behind the prosecution. “If you're asking if I thought she was insane, I am not a medical professional. All I can say is she was hysterical.” He might not have a fancy degree, but he wasn't an idiot. He was not getting backed into a corner by this pompous attorney.

  “Hysterical over the endangerment of her non-existent children?” Peters asked, a laugh in his voice.

  The lawyer was lucky they were in a courtroom and not outside. He'd have no trouble clocking the bastard. “She was afraid she would never have them.”

  “You assumed Ms. McClaren meant her children were missing?” Peters asked.

  Dylan shifted in his chair. What the fuck did this man want him to say? He wasn't the one on trial here. His side hurt, his arm was in a sling, and this pissant was making him mad. “Look, if you want to stand there and point out to the judge that I was played by a woman, fine. It's true. I believed her enough to go out there the next day. I'm thankful I did, since there is a chance Mason Everett wouldn't have made it through that day if I hadn't.” He shot a pained look at Judge King. “I am tired and sore and I was shot twice in defense of an innocent man.” He directed his gaze back at the attorney. “I will not sit here and tell you what you want to hear. As far as I'm concerned, I was coerced into a situation by a cunningly manipulative woman.”

  Peters blanched. “No more questions, Your Honor.”

  Dylan gingerly made his way off the stand. “I wasn't expectin' that,” he murmured to Cassidy as he took a seat beside her. He hadn't been kidding when he'd told the judge he was tired and sore, but he wanted to stick around to see who Gregory Peters called to torture next.

  “You were awesome,” she said, admiration in her dark eyes, “Master Sergeant Black.”

  They sat through the testimony of Dr. Kimberlynn Talbott next, the doctor's diagnosis of delusional disorder with erotomanic delusions centering on Mason making perfect sense. Dr. Talbott explained that Priscilla was high functioning outside of her delusions, yet within them, she felt she was protecting her children and insuring their lives. Priscilla believed Mason was her mate, and was threatened when he chose someone else. It was Dr. Talbott's opinion that Priscilla be remanded to psychiatric care and placed on psychotropic drugs, and was incompetent to stand trial at this time.

  Dylan leaned over to ask, “Why didn't the doctor go first?”

  “Peters wanted to show how far she'd taken the delusion,” she answered. “He also wanted to show how entrenched within it she was, convincing you to believe her.”

  “She was convincin',” he admitted. She was also completely insane. The doctor had just told them all that. “Psychiatric care until she's competent for trial?”

  She nodded. “Typically, there are drugs or therapies, resulting in the perp showing deep regret for whatever they've done, then a trial where they're often found not guilty by reason of insanity but committed just the same.”

  “Either way, she's nowhere near your brother.” He studied her face. “You don't think she's crazy.”

  She shook her head. “She knew what she was doing was wrong.” She focused on the psychiatrist for a moment before directing her attention back to him. “I believe the doctor is right—Priscilla is no doubt obsessed with Mason to the point of delusions—but she planned everything. I just can't see anything but premeditation there.”

  He grimaced. This sitting business was getting old. “How much longer 'til we can blow this pop-stand?”

  ~*~

  “Do you want
to go home, or shall we stop for lunch?” Cassidy asked a frustrated Dylan.

  Chuckling, Dylan asked, “Did you just say shall?”

  “I did.” She bit her lip, stopping the snark that wanted to pop out of her mouth. “Would you like to eat, or do you need to rest?”

  “Can't I do both?”

  She barely resisted shoving him. “Would you just answer the damn question?”

  He gave her a half smile. “Lunch sounds great. Just find me a place with a soft chair.”

  She managed not to sigh as she lead the way out of the courtroom. Dylan was giving her a hard time because he had just been raked over the coals by a hack lawyer, been shot a few days ago, and this morning she had almost jumped his bones. She shook her head at herself. Delicious bones they may be, but the man was hurt, and worse, he wasn't sticking around. She wanted him, there was no use in denying that, but she had to be strong. He said he wasn't looking for casual, and she wasn't capable of anything else. She almost tripped over the curb and laughed at herself. That'll teach her to think and walk at the same time.

  She smiled when they reached her Lexus, Blue. She loved this car, with its bright metallic blue paint and gray leather interior, even if her father had tried to cajole her into buying something European. She was even happier about not caving and buying the sports car Charles Everett had chosen now that she had to cart a huge man around for the next six weeks.

  ~*~

  Cassidy drummed her fingers against the leather-bound planner in her hands. She had fourteen cases on her plate right now, and all she could think about was the man she'd left in her house. Why had she left him alone? Oh, right, she had work she had to do, and she couldn't just shirk her responsibilities because she'd rather be tending a man. A man she had kissed a few mornings ago, a man she couldn't stop thinking about, a man who had nearly sacrificed his life to save her brother. She shook her head at herself. She had to stop thinking about Dylan and prepare herself for court.