Page 46 of Nightfire

He could have gone on forever like this, shadowing Chloe like some stalker, happy just to be near her, except lately he’d been…what? Restless. Erratic. Jittery. Emotions all over the goddamned place. Unable to concentrate on work. Unable to eat. Unable to sleep.

He needed to talk to her. He started to knock, then stopped, his fist an inch from the door.

So…suppose he dumped all of this on Chloe. And then—Jesus!— just suppose she didn’t feel about him the way he felt about her? What then? Chloe was gentle with everyone. Everyone loved her. Not as much as he did, that would be impossible, but still. But suppose she liked him but didn’t want to go any further than that with him, ever?

Suppose he had to live with these…things slicing him open inside every minute, every day of the rest of his life?

What then?

Mike wasn’t a coward, not in any way. He’d been in battle and been decorated for it. He’d taken point in a big SWAT takedown of a warehouse full of meth addicts armed to the teeth. He’d been born strong and made sure he stayed strong and he’d back down from no man.

But the thought of losing Chloe…it brought him to his knees.

And here he was, the Cool Dude with the Guns, standing outside a door with his hand raised like a dork, afraid to knock.

What the fuck?

He heard Chloe’s voice behind the door, soft and gentle, and smiled. And then he heard the rumble of another voice. Low, deep, unmistakably male and he froze.

Oh, shit.

That hadn’t occurred to him. Not really. Not seriously. That Chloe might be seeing someone else. Not possible. He’d made that journalist dude back away fast and though he’d kept a close watch, no other guy was sniffing around her. He’d have taken a bet on it.

He was around her almost 24/7, after all. When the fuck was she supposed to meet other men?

But that deep voice was a man and he must be a really good friend if she allowed him into the shelter against all the rules.

Fuck. Mike dropped the hand about to knock and gently rested his forehead against the door, listening to the rumble of male…voices? Two of them?

She had two boyfriends?

And then he heard something else, something that stopped his heart. Something that galvanized him as nothing else could.

Chloe, screaming in terror.

Pure instinct took over.

He smashed through the door, had a glimpse of Chloe struggling on the desktop, one fucker between her legs, dick out, the other standing by. He didn’t even feel his feet as he rushed at them and brought the man assaulting Chloe down with a flying tackle.

The guy was big and strong but Mike was stronger and he had a beserker’s rage inside him. He didn’t even feel the blows as the man punched him over and over in the side. They grappled, wrestled, rolled around the room, shattering tables and chairs, grunting in a no-holds-barred struggle. There were rules to combat but not now. Mike instantly realized it was a fight to the death.

The man had some moves in him, had been trained. Later, with hindsight, Mike would pin his style down to SAMBO, the martial arts specialty of Russian Special Forces. SAMBO was essentially ground fighting.

The man had him in a leg lock on the ground, almost immobilized. While Mike was on the ground with this bozo, he could see Chloe pulling her dress down, turning to fight the other man in the room, a tall strong son of a bitch. He backhanded her, hard. She flew across the room, bouncing against the wall, landing on the floor like a broken doll, deadly pale and still.

The idea that she might be grievously injured or—God!—dead gave Mike superhuman powers. He had to get to Chloe and the man holding him was keeping him from her. Mike had enormous strength in his arms, but to get to Chloe, he’d punch his way through steel if he had to. This had to finish, fast.

He flexed his arm and drove the point of his elbow into the man’s windpipe with all the power of his upper body and heard bone crunch.

Instantly he was free. The smell of feces filled the room as the man’s bowels loosened in death.

Mike didn’t even look back as he scrambled to his feet and launched himself at the other man who was bending to pick Chloe up, hoping to get her away while Mike and the other guy were fighting.

Over my dead body, fucker, he thought savagely.

The guy didn’t stand a chance. He saw Mike coming at him and dropped Chloe to free his hands but it was too late. Mike punched him in the stomach and then a straight punch to the center of the face, crushing teeth and cartilage. The man dropped like a felled bull, moaning, bubbles of air coming out of the mashed red wreck of his face.

Mike didn’t even look at him. He just kicked the fuckhead out of his way as he dropped to his knees and gathered Chloe up, so terrified he couldn’t feel his hands as he touched her.