Authors: Cheryl McIntyre
Grit (Dirty #6)
Grit
A Dirty Sequel
Cheryl McIntyre
All Rights Reserved
Copyright © 2015 by Cheryl McIntyre
Grit
Cheryl McIntyre
2015
No part of this story may be used or reproduced in any form without prior written permission by the author except where permitted by law.
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to real persons, events, or places are used fictitiously. The characters are the work of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to persons living or deceased, events, or locales are coincidental.
The author acknowledges the trademark status, as well as ownership of products referred to in this work of fiction. The uses of these trademarks have not been authorized, nor are they associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Edited by Dawn McIntyre Decker
Table of Contents
If you have not yet read the Dirty series, I highly recommend reading it before reading Grit, though it is not a
must.
For those of you who need a refresher on how the Dirty series ended, turn the page. If you don’t need the refresher, feel free to skip this and move onto Grit.
Happy reading.
Dirty Recap
Rocky
The hallway is empty. Deserted. My shoes squeak against the shiny linoleum as I hurry toward the muffled voices of two hundred of my fellow students. I duck into the locker room to straighten my messy hair and wash the dried paint from my hands.
Muted cheers erupt as I push the door open and head for the gymnasium. I peer through the small window separating me from the rest of my class. I’m so late. I should be in there, cheering my peppy ass off.
Hands skim along my hips before gripping my waist. I’m tugged back against a hard chest. I gasp, surprised. I try to turn, but the grip on my hips tightens. I open my mouth to protest, but nothing comes out.
I try to pull away again, struggling to free myself.
I shoot upward, panting, as I slide my hand across the bed in search of Link’s warm comfort. After a bad dream, just the feel of his skin is enough to calm me.
The bed is empty. Cold.
Lonely.
Securing the sheet around my body, I shuffle sleepily toward the door. This isn’t the first time I awoke alone in his bed, but I need him right now. This nightmare wasn’t as bad as usual—they seem to be getting better each day—however, the thought of pressing myself into Link’s solid chest is too tempting to resist.
I open the door and peer down the hall, a little surprised to find it dark. Usually I can follow the flickering blue light of the TV or the pale white glow of his laptop. I keep my hand on the wall to ensure I don’t run into anything.
I catch his form passing in front of the window from the corner of my eye. I smile, moving toward him instantly.
“Couldn’t sleep?” I murmur, stopping in front of him. He doesn’t answer me and I reach for him like an addict needing her fix. Just one touch will set me right, make me feel normal again. My fingers meet the soft material of a t-shirt, and then the toned, wiry frame underneath.
Not Link’s thick, muscular structure. Not the body I take comfort from.
The scent hits me then. Something musky and smoky. Not the inviting crisp scent I’ve come to adore.
Not Link’s soothing scent.
I suck in a startled breath, a shiver of panic rocking my body. My feet stumble over the sheet as I try to backtrack. I trip, falling to my hands and knees, but I don’t stop. My fear keeps me moving, crawling along the floor, desperate to get away.
He grabs a handful of my hair, yanking, and halting the little progress I was able to make. I reach back blindly, trying to pry myself loose. My hands wrap around his wrists futilely.
“Settle down, Cowgirl. The more you fight, the more it turns me on. I don’t have time to play with you right now. Your boyfriend’s gonna be back soon.”
No.
NO.
Link’s not here?
Where is he?
Tears fill my eyes, spilling over quickly and sliding down my cheeks in hot trails. Because I’m alone. Because I can’t survive this again. Because I can only imagine what Bates is going to do to me.
I whimper, choking on my terror.
He jerks my head back as his other hand skates down my stomach. He slips under the sheet, his fingers sliding lower until he’s cupping my most intimate place. I freeze, willing my limbs to move—to fight—as he caresses me. Just when I think I can’t take another second, he drops his hand.
“You smell like sex,” he whispers into my ear. His breath is hot and moist against my skin, causing me to shudder with loathing and disgust. He lifts his hand, inhaling deeply, and sighing as if savoring my scent.
Bile rises in my throat.
“What do you think he’ll do when he realizes you’re gone?”
The small black and white photo of Olivia in the newspaper flashes in my head like a beacon. Bates is going to do to me exactly what he did to her. And Link—God, Link—he’s going to have another woman ripped from his life. Just hours after he told me he was beginning to see a future with me.
I don’t want to die
.
The next set of tears that fall are for Link. For the future he and I are supposed to have. And because I know he can’t live through this again, either.
“Why are you doing this?” I cry.
He chuckles, the sound mocking. “It’s all closing in now, sweetheart. We had a good thing going—nobody knew who we were. Then Steve had to fuck it all up. Useless, weak piece of shit. If I’m going down, I’m going to take as many as I can with me.”
I jerk away from Bates, unwilling to go easily. Link’s words play in my head, focusing me.
If Garrett or Bates or any other guy comes after you, you’re going to kick their fucking ass. You’re going to know exactly where to hit. How hard to hit. What position works best. You’re going to know how to kill them.
I’m going to do what Link has been teaching me to do. I’m going to use the skills he gave me and I’m going to make this fucker suffer.
With a flick of my wrist, I drop the sheet, lowering the only shield I had. However, this gives me a few advantages. Like the fact that his eyes are now traveling my body like a starving predator, distracting him. Or how I no longer have fabric hanging off of me for him to grab or to hinder me from fighting in the way I know I’m going to need to. And on top of that, hopefully dragging a naked woman from a house will draw some kind of attention.
Bates takes a step toward me, licking his lips suggestively. He opens his mouth to say something—something vulgar or threatening, I’m sure. I don’t have anything protecting my feet, so I don’t kick him like I want to. Instead, I close the distance between us, bringing us chest to chest. And then I swing my hand, punching him in the testicles as hard as I can.
A grunt blows against my bare skin as he leans forward. I pull my arm back, ready to hit him again, but instead of grabbing his boys defensively like I expect, he slams his fist into my stomach, and I crumple. I fall to the floor, my lungs trying to expand, but unable.
He stands over me, peering down with a sadistic smile. “I’m going to have fun making you pay for that.”
Link
Rocky’s cell goes straight to voicemail. I punch the steering wheel, stepping hard on the gas pedal. As much as I want to take care of Bates myself, I can’t risk Rocky’s life. I pull up Byers’ number and place the call.
While it rings, I drive like a madman, running red lights, and flying through stop signs, hoping a cop tries to pull me over.
“Detective Byers,” he says gruffly.
“It’s Linken Elliot,” I pant. “Send someone over to my house, now, or someone’s going to die.”
I hang up before he can question me. The less he knows, the faster he’ll move his ass.
I haven’t allowed myself to really think about what could be happening to Rocky right now. What Bates is doing to her. I haven’t wanted to go there. But as I get closer to my house, still so far away from helping her, I can’t fight it any longer.
Olivia.
I see Olivia’s face. The terror. The agony. And that moment when she gave up. Gave in. When she stopped crying, stopped fighting.
“Please, don’t do this to me again,” I plead. I don’t know if I’m talking to Livie or God. I just repeat it over and over like a mantra, hoping someone hears my prayers.
Rocky’s a fighter. Named after the only undefeated boxing champion. She won’t give up like Livie did. She’s stronger. I’ve trained her, shaped her, showed her how to protect herself.
But what if it wasn’t enough? What if she isn’t ready?
“Don’t take her away from me,” I beg. “I can’t lose another woman I care about.”
I pull into my driveway, slamming the gear into park before the car’s even stopped. As I run toward my front door, my vision tunnels. My mind goes blank. I’m numb, preparing myself for whatever scene I’m about to walk in on.
My stomach churns violently as I kick the door open. My eyes land on Rocky, lying naked on my living room floor. Her eyes are closed, her arms limp on each side of her head. She looks as if she was being pinned down. And by the multiple bruises lining her face, she fought hard.
And then she’s no longer there. I’m in the alley four years ago, looking into Olivia’s face.
I fall to my knees beside her, incapable of words. Powerless to conceal my torment.
Rocky comes back into view, her skin pale, blotched in purple contusions.
God, what did he do to her?
I place my fingers to her neck gently, afraid to touch her. My head drops with relief as I feel the unhurried throbbing of her pulse.
I press my lips together, trying to hold back a sob of gratitude.
My little fighter
.
As the terror gradually leaves me and my heart begins to beat again, my mind focuses. And every mistake I’ve made since walking through the door catches up with me.
A shadow moves over the light from the open door, shining on Rocky’s legs. I have just enough time to brace myself for the hit before I feel something hard and solid strike my head.