By Her Touch by Adriana Anders

Author:Adriana Anders [Anders, Adriana]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sourcebooks, Inc.
Published: 2017-04-04T07:00:00+00:00

11

“You ready?” Sheriff Mullen asked.

Clay nodded. He was ready all right. Aching, in fact, to tear some shit up. Or maybe even get his shit torn up.

Because I’m an idiot.

An idiot who messed with the doc—the only person he’d found to help him—and then took off. Not, of course, because he didn’t want her, but because he had shit for brains.

Because she scares you.

“Yeah. Let’s do this, Sheriff,” he said, pushing memories from the past few nights before from his mind. He’d figure it out later.

“Steve,” said the sheriff.

“Steve. Okay. I’m…Andrew.”

Today, the gym was nearly empty, which was a relief, since he hadn’t really loved having an audience.

“All right, Andrew. Ready for another challenge from the man who claims he doesn’t know how to fight. You say you’re not military…” He squinted at Clay, who felt suddenly naked. “That’s okay. I still got some moves. Little guy like me can still kick your monster ass, don’t worry.”

“Oh, great,” Clay said, faking annoyance but actually pretty revved.

On the mat, he let Steve get a couple of hits in: nothing big, but enough to rattle his brain in his skull and wake him up. It felt great to let loose, despite his aching leg and stiff back. He ignored those and just let his body go.

After a few rounds, though, he forgot to hold back, allowing his instincts to kick in and letting them lead, twisting into the counters rather than fighting against them. He had too much on his mind. That woman who’d torn him up and turned him inside out. The shit back in Baltimore, the goddamned bikes he heard revving outside every single night. The bikes weren’t real. They were in his head. When he lived in his body like this, just moved and let go and went with the flow, he could pretend none of it was real.

At one point, Steve came at him with an uncharacteristically blunt attack, open-handed, almost too obvious, and Clay went for it. Quick slide to the side, hand over his opponent’s wrist, into his body, forward propulsion, roll, then Steve’s head between his thighs. All fast, lightning fast, and oh shit… Steve slapped out.

“No, sir. No way,” the man said between tight lips before stepping out of the ring. “In the back, Blane, now.”

Clay hesitated. What the hell?

“In my office,” Steve ordered. He might be little, but he was bossy as shit, and Clay followed wordlessly.

By the time the door closed behind him, he knew he’d been wrong to follow the sheriff back here.

“Who the hell are you?” Steve asked, voice quiet and hard, eyes slitted on Clay’s face.

“Andrew Blane.”

“The hell you are, son. Ain’t no goddamned bricklayer or whatever the hell Andrew Blane does for a livin’.” Steve was breathing hard now, his nostrils wide. “I’m asking one more time. Where the hell’d you learn to fight like that?”

“Here and there,” Clay said, forcing nonchalance as the noose tightened around his neck.

“Yeah? You show up in my peaceful town, claim you

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