Page 5 of Cowboy’s Last Stand (His to Protect #1)

N atalie should have run in the opposite direction the instant she’d seen them.

She hadn’t because her first instinct was to help, not flee. She’d hurried toward the group of men in hopes of stopping a fight before it started.

No such luck.

Stan had taken the first swing, and everything after that was a blur.

She’d watched in amazement as Jason defended himself with ruthless precision.

He appeared calm and unruffled despite having just dispatched both of the Stoddard brothers in short order.

No wonder he was eager to fight; he was quite skilled at it.

Steve groaned and straightened to a sitting position.

Natalie prayed he wouldn’t get up. She wanted Jason to win with as little fanfare and bloodshed as possible.

Billy was his last opponent and the weakest of the three.

While she stayed silent, looking on from a safe distance, Billy raised a glinting fist.

He had brass knuckles.

Natalie clapped a hand over her mouth to smother a scream. Jason took a hard hit, but he didn’t go down, and he recovered quickly. Even so, she was terrified for him. He was outnumbered, and Billy had no moral compass.

Behind him, Steve Stoddard staggered to his feet. Jason couldn’t take his focus off Billy and the brass knuckles to deal with Steve.

“Watch out,” she cried.

“Hold ’im,” Billy said.

Steve locked his arms around Jason’s torso.

It was a coward’s way of fighting, two-on-one with a deadly weapon.

Seizing his advantage, Billy struck Jason again.

The weighted metal gave the punch more impact.

Jason’s head rocked back. Billy landed a third blow while Jason struggled against Steve’s grip.

Natalie’s heart lodged in her throat. She had to help him! She looked around for something heavy. The brick-lined pathway at her feet offered a handy object. She found a loose brick and picked it up.

Hurtling forward, she drew back her arm like a tomahawk and walloped Steve Stoddard in the back of the head.

Steve released Jason, careened sideways, and fell down.

Natalie dropped the brick with a gasp. It broke in half at her feet. She couldn’t believe she’d hit a man over the head. Steve also seemed shocked by her actions. He gaped at her, dumbstruck.

In the meantime, Billy continued to attack.

Drunk or not, he was able to maintain his balance and stay on target.

Jason fought back with his own punches, and they were well-placed, but Billy kept swinging.

Natalie picked up another piece of brick, just in case.

Thankfully, she didn’t have to intervene again.

Jason tackled Billy around the waist and took the fight to the ground, where Billy couldn’t use his weapon as effectively.

They fell on the grass in a tangle of limbs.

Jason unleashed a series of brutal punches.

He pummeled Billy’s face and showed no mercy.

Bones crunched, and blood sprayed. Natalie’s stomach roiled with horror.

Though the punishment was well-deserved, she hated violence.

When Billy went limp, Jason flipped him over and wrenched his arm behind his back, ripping the brass knuckles away. They clattered on the sidewalk.

“If I kill you, they’ll call it self-defense,” Jason growled.

“Not in this town,” Billy said. “Ask her.”

Natalie swallowed hard and glanced around the quiet neighborhood.

Several porchlights had come on nearby. She was aware of Stan in the background, helping Steve to his feet.

Steve lumbered forward and stepped off the curb.

He put his arm around Stan for support. They didn’t appear capable of launching a new attack on Jason.

“Go home, Billy,” Natalie said. “It’s over.”

“Let him up,” Stan said from the shadows. “He’s done. We’re leaving.”

Jason wasn’t finished yet. He leaned toward Billy and applied more pressure to the hold. “If you bother her again, I’ll find you, and I’ll make you wish you were dead. You won’t be able to walk away next time. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” Billy said, gasping in pain. “Yes.”

Jason released him and climbed off. He picked up the brass knuckles, just in case. Then he gestured for Billy to get lost.

Natalie retrieved her phone from her purse.

Wade Hendricks was on her list of contacts.

He was a deputy in the sheriff’s department and the only Hendricks worth his salt.

Her finger hovered over the call button.

If this didn’t end right now, she’d call him.

Billy got up and followed the Stoddard brothers to their classic car.

They staggered away like wounded dogs and drove away in a squeal of tires.

Natalie almost collapsed with relief. She drew in several shuddering breaths to regain her bearings. She’d never been a part of a physical altercation before.

“Are you hurt?” Jason asked.

She blinked at the question. “Am I hurt? Are you kidding?”

“No.”

“You’re the one bleeding.”

He swiped at his forehead, impatient. “I’m fine.”

She was still holding half a brick in one hand. She let it fall to the wet grass with a thud.

“I owe you one,” he said. “You wield a mean brick.”

“It wasn’t a fair fight,” she murmured. Her entire body was shaking.

She put her phone in her pocket and studied him.

Another trickle of blood coursed from his temple to his jaw.

After a hazy moment, she searched her bag for something to stanch the flow.

She had a panty-liner. She unwrapped the feminine item and handed it to him.

He held it to his forehead with a smile. “Thanks.”

She didn’t understand his pleased expression. Had he enjoyed the battle? “I think you need stitches.”

“Nah.”

Rain continued to fall in a soft mist, creating a halo around them. The wound at his temple was still bleeding despite the maxi-pad application.

“I live right here,” she said finally, pointing at her house. “You can come in and get cleaned up.”

“All right,” he said. He retrieved his backpack without any difficulty and picked up his discarded cowboy hat. Other than the cut on his forehead, he seemed no worse for the wear. He gestured down the street. “Are you going to leave your car there?”

“I’ll deal with it tomorrow.”

As they walked the short distance together, she second-guessed her offer.

She wasn’t usually so reckless about personal safety.

She’d taken a risk by helping Jason fight off his attackers.

She was taking another risk by offering first aid.

She didn’t invite men into her home. He was a stranger and obviously a loose cannon.

The fact that he’d beaten up the bad guys didn’t make him a good guy.

“Where are you staying?” she asked.

“I was going to sleep in the park.”

She searched his face for signs of deception. If he wanted to impress her, he wouldn’t say he’d been planning to sleep in the park like a vagrant. There was something strange about him, but she didn’t think he was lying.

“You can’t afford a hotel?”

“I can afford it,” he said. “I just prefer to sleep outside.”

“Even in the rain?”

“I have a waterproof tent.”

They’d arrived at the front of her house. The porch light was on. She gestured for him to join her as she ascended the steps. It occurred to her that she didn’t have to invite him inside. She could help him right here, on the glider. “Have a seat.”

He shrugged out of his backpack and sat down.

The glider squeaked under his weight. He gave his hat a cursory inspection, as if checking for blood smears, before he set it aside.

Natalie was making a mental list of first aid supplies when her babysitter, London, burst out of the house.

The screen door, which had been hanging from its hinges, fell clean off.

“Oops,” London said.

The girl had a friend with her. Natalie didn’t know the friend, but she looked like trouble. She wore a tie-dyed T-shirt, a long hippie skirt, and a vacant expression. Both girls gawked at Jason with raccoon eyes. He nodded politely.

“I didn’t say you could have friends over,” Natalie said.

“You didn’t say I couldn’t,” London replied.

“I said no boys.”

“She’s a girl.”

Natalie sighed and removed some cash from her pocket to pay the babysitting fee.

London and her friend left in a hurry. Instead of heading toward London’s house next door, they walked in the opposite direction.

Natalie went inside to check on Marcus, who was fast asleep.

His curly hair made a dark halo against the pillow. Her heart eased at the sight.

From the kitchen, she gathered bandages, some ice, and a clean washcloth. She grabbed her jacket before she returned to the porch because she was still trembling. The evening had left her nerves on edge.

“That was my babysitter,” she said, taking a seat next to Jason. “Last weekend, she smoked pot in my house. Can you believe that?”

“Yes.”

“She left a joint sitting on the coffee table.” Natalie arranged her supplies. “In my day, we hid the evidence when we smoked weed. We didn’t leave it out for anyone to find.”

He smiled at her rant. “In your day? How old are you?”

“Twenty-six,” she said. She hadn’t felt young or carefree since she’d become a mother.

And, since Mike had died, the pressure of parenting had doubled.

She had no one to talk to about the daily struggles of raising a child.

She couldn’t share the burden or the joy.

Her aloneness had become a permanent state. Grief had frozen her in place.

She lifted a damp towel to his face. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-nine.”

He didn’t seem young or carefree either, despite his air of equanimity. She dabbed at the cut on his brow, which was still seeping. There was more blood at the corner of his mouth. “Where else does it hurt?”

“My hand. My ribs.”

She cleaned his knuckles, which were scraped raw.

Then she gestured for him to lift his shirt.

He had a lean, well-muscled physique. His skin was warm and smooth beneath her fingertips.

She hadn’t touched a man’s chest in a long time.

She had to admit, it felt nice. She palpated his ribs gently. He sucked in a breath of discomfort.

“Maybe you should go to the ER.”

“I’m fine.”

“What if you have a cracked rib?”

“I don’t.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve broken ribs before. These are just bruised.”

“Then why did you let me feel them?”

He gave her a candid look. “I thought I might enjoy it.”

She snatched her hands away, flushing with heat.

She doubted he’d derived any pleasure from the contact, even if his ribs weren’t broken.

The pressure of her fingertips couldn’t feel good on his bruised flesh.

He was just teasing her. Flustered, she searched for a butterfly bandage.

She found one and affixed it to his temple.

Then she made him a couple of ice packs.

He put one on his forehead and the other on his right hand.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She sat in silence for a moment. It started to rain in earnest, pattering on the rooftop.

“You should report him for harassment,” Jason said. “You might be able to get a restraining order.”

An image of Billy’s sneering mouth came to mind. Even if she filed a formal complaint, who would do anything about it? Certainly not his father. She had personal reasons for not wanting to call his brother, Wade. Jason’s street justice would have to be enough. “His father’s the sheriff, remember?”

“I remember.”

She didn’t want to talk about Billy, so she changed the subject. “Why do you like to sleep outside?”

His dark eyes became hooded. This was an uncomfortable topic for him. Instead of withdrawing her question, she waited for his answer. He took the ice away from his forehead. “I was injured overseas.”

“Where overseas?”

“Afghanistan.”

She drew in a sharp breath. Almost two years after Mike’s death, the name of the place still haunted her. Not that she could avoid mentions of armed service or war zones. They lived twenty miles from one of the largest military bases in the country. “My husband was killed in action in Kabul.”

“I’m sorry,” he said in a formal tone.

“You’re in the military?”

“Marines.”

Mike had been a Marine. She softened toward Jason even more.

“I’ve been on medical leave since I got back to the States,” Jason said. “I have issues with enclosed spaces. I don’t like to be indoors for too long, and…” He broke off, clearing his throat. “I can’t sleep under a roof. I have nightmares. The tent is OK. It has a skylight. But I prefer open air.”

She studied his tense features. He’d skipped over an important part. “Did your injury involve an enclosed space?”

“Yes.”

He didn’t elaborate, but she’d heard enough. He was an enlisted man struggling to recover from trauma. She was honor-bound to help him. Satisfied, she gathered her supplies. “You can sleep out here if this is open enough for you. It’s dry.”

He nodded in agreement. “All right.”

She paused before heading inside. “I want to make something clear. My son is the only man in my life.”

He smiled as if he found her pronouncement endearing instead of discouraging.

“I mean it,” she said.

“I believe you.”

“Tomorrow, you have to move on.”

“Of course,” he said, his smile fading.

His gaze held hers for several seconds, and she got the strange feeling that she knew him. It was an unsettling sensation, like a long-forgotten dream or a memory from another life. She glanced away, troubled. “Do you need a blanket?”

“I have my sleeping bag.”

She scanned the glider, which was well-cushioned but probably not long enough to accommodate his rangy form.

She didn’t offer him a pillow or anything else.

Lingering out here to discuss sleeping arrangements seemed too intimate, too risky.

Her skin prickled with awareness. She realized, with a jolt, that she was tempted to invite him in.

It had been a rough night, and he seemed like the kind of man who could show a woman a good time.

The urge to fall into his arms was overwhelming.

She wanted to feel something. She wanted to feel whole again.

He examined her with blatant interest, as if he could read her mind. She thought he might say the words out loud and offer to take her to bed, but he didn’t.

“Good night,” she said and fled temptation.