Page 4 of Flint's Battle

“I’m extremely resourceful.”

“I bet. Okay.” She walked over to a locker and grabbed her purse, then reached in and retrieved her keys. “Here.” She placed them in his palm. “I hope you can drive a stick.”

“Do I look like the kind of guy who’d buy an automatic?”

That got him a genuine smile. “Definitely not.”

He motioned to the doorway. “Ladies first.”

Emery shook her head then struck off, the sexy sway of her hips making his heart race more than when he’d slugged the guy. Bowie was right. Flint needed to ask Emery out before he lost his one chance at the future he hadn’t realized he’d been looking for.

CHAPTER 2

Crazy.

That’s what she was. Certifiable.

Because a sane person wouldn’t be sitting beside the one man who made her pulse tap triple time just from being in the same room. And yet, here she was, a foot away, as Flint drove her Jeep along the highway toward her cottage — soft music playing in the background. Some spicy male essence filling the cabin — citrus with a hint of cottonwood. The kind of scent she knew would linger long after he’d left.

She’d nearly tripped when he’d placed his hand on the small of her back. As if he was afraid she’d fall. Which, hell, she might have. Not from the crack to her head but the instant billow of heat through her core from the soft slide of his fingers against her shirt. So strong it had dimmed the edges of her vision. Had her wondering if maybe she did have a concussion. Even now, she felt the ghosted pressure where his palm had been, as if he’d left some kind of emotional brand.

She was definitely crazy.

Flint tapped her thigh, smiling when she snapped her gaze to him. “Do I want to know why you’re so quiet? Because I’mstarting to think I should turn this Wrangler around and take you back to Kian.”

He held up his hand. “How many?”

Emery snorted, hating the fact it sent a jolt of pain through her cheek and into her temples. “Three, wise ass. And no, we don’t need to go back to Ohana’s. I’m fine.”

“You know you have a tell, right?”

“Shut up. I do not.”

“You definitely have a tell. And no, I’m not going to tell you what it is because you’ll try to change it. You’re hurting, sweetheart.”

Emery paused at the endearment. He hadn’t let anything like that slip before, though based on the way his lips pursed, he hadn’t meant to let it happen this time, either. Though she had to admit, the way it rolled off his tongue — all gravely and low — made her chest tighten until she wondered if he’d somehow sucked out all the oxygen in the Jeep and turned the heat up full blast.

“Of course, I’m hurting. I let some preppy asshole land a punch. But I’m fine. More pissed off than anything.” She tilted her head, admiring the strong line of his jaw and how the occasional streetlight emphasized the blue in his eyes. The man was dangerously handsome. “And thanks, by the way. For having my back. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone cross a bar that fast, let alone vault over a table. You’re impressive.”

Flint sighed as if he wasn’t sure he deserved the compliment. “I should have realized that bastard had backup when he kept challenging you. No way he was taking you on alone, again, after you handed him his ass. Talk about impressive. You didn’t even blink. Fucker’s lucky you didn’t lock him up.”

Flint gave her a quick glance. “You’re far too nice.”

Emery chuckled. “Trust me. It’s not worth the paperwork. Though, knowing those other assholes are gonna sit there withKian and the others staring them down until closing warms my heart, just a bit.”

“I doubt they’ll be back anytime soon, though, you might have put a target on your back.”

“I hunt murderers and crime lords for a living. Those redneck boys are welcome to try.”

Had his right eye twitched? And had the engine revved or had he growled? Because something low and raspy had rumbled through the cabin.

Flint tightened his hold on the steering wheel. “Kian’s right. You’re unique. Speaking of which, I was hoping?—”

A blast of static cut him off followed by a voice coming over her radio. “Delta Sierra Two this is dispatch. You out there, McClane?”

Emery groaned, giving Flint a shake of her head as she grabbed the mic. “You’ve obviously pinged my GPS, Barry, since you know I’m not on call tonight.”

Barry chuckled. “Busted. And I know it’s a rare night off, but I need you to do me a huge favor.”

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