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Nate shifted back and attempted a chop to Rick’s neck, but he ducked, spun, and kicked his heel into Nate’s side. Nate let out a huff of breath and winced, but he rose and kicked Rick’s inner thigh. Rick stumbled backward, and just because I was so pissed at him, I punched him on the chin, sending his head snapping back. Rick’s eyes went wide in shock and pain, but he managed to keep from falling. Instead, he stumbled and regained his footing.

In the distance, I heard the sound of a siren. Rick turned toward the sound, then back at us.

I’d hit him. The thought burned in my mind, searing my brain like a branding iron. There was no coming back from that, not that I wanted there to be. We were done. But hitting someone, bashing their face with your fist, was averyintimate thing. Violence, the other side of the coin from compassion, was as relationship-altering as sex. In some ways, it was more intimate than sex.

Rick opened his mouth as if to say something, but seemed to think better of it. With a quick glance in the direction of the sirens, he spun on his heel and ran. His dress shoes clicked on the sidewalk as he sprinted away.

The way he’d glared at both of us told me one thing. This was far from over.

Nate’s grunt drew my attention, and I turned to him. He was on one knee, holding his ribs and breathing heavily.

“Fucker can kick hard,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Shit, are you okay?”

He waved me away, then stood. Gently, he took my hand and inspected my arm. The cut was long, but not very deep. I probably wouldn’t even need stitches.

“Are you okay?” He looked from the cut to my face. “Cameron, are you all right?”

I nodded. Before I could tell him I was fine, I burst into tears. The stress and chaos of the last two days were more than I could handle at that moment.

“No,” I blubbered. “I’m not.”

As the police sirens drew nearer, Nate pulled me close, wrapping his arms around me. All I could do was bury my face in his chest and sob. Crying for everything lost and how stupid I’d been for so long.

Even as I cried, I promised myself I’d never let it happen again.

22

Nate

“Let’s get out of here,” I said, guiding Cameron to my bike.

She was still sobbing, and I could barely make out what she was saying through her tears.

“What?” I asked. “What are you saying?”

She took a deep breath and wiped at her eyes, pushing back the emotion. I’d never seen anything like it. This woman was tough as hell.

“What about the police? They’re on the way,” she said.

I shook my head. “No use. Rick’s gone, and there will be a bunch of questions we don’t want to answer.” The sirens drew closer as I added, “If I’m being honest, it’s the word of a young reporter and a drifter against the word of a millionaire’s son. Who do you think they’ll believe without video evidence of some kind?”

She blew out a breath and glared at me, all signs of her breakdown gone now. The only thing I could see in her eyes was frustration.

“Story of my fucking life,” she muttered. “Fine, let’s go.”

“Good, hurry.”

Handing her my helmet, I swung my leg over and started the bike. Cameron had barely managed to wrap her uninjured arm around my waist when the police cruiser rounded the corner. Gunning the throttle, I shot away from the curb and down the street, leaving the cop behind.

“Where do you want to go?” I shouted back to her, raising my voice to be heard over the wind.

“My place.” My shifter hearing picked up her words through the scream of engines, the muffled helmet, and the wind. “My mom’s at home. She’s a nurse. She can clean us up.”

I hesitated. “Is she gonna ask questions?”

Cameron was silent. I didn’t know if that was because she hadn’t heard me or if it was an answer to my question. Sophia Torres struck me as the type who would want to know everything.