When Gracie Met The Grump

by Mariana Zapata

And being a snitch to save myself some pain—or a whole lot of it—wasn’t worth it. Not when I would be betraying someone who might not exactly be the person I’d thought he was but still did the right thing.

But the most important thing at this point was to buy The Defender time. As much as I wanted to tell her to fuck herself, I had to do what I had to do, and that was be a bigger person. For him. For the rest of humanity.

She was probably going to kill me and harvest my organs, but I hadn’t been joking. If I saw a white light, I was going the other way. Grandma used to say that her grandma had stuck around after she had passed away, until her husband eventually died. Apparently, he’d cheated on her and she had taken revenge in her own way. I think I would have liked her.

If this was the end, it was the end. I didn’t want it to be, but I wasn’t willing to give up on the only person who might someday make this fucker pay for what she had done to me. Sure, it wouldn’t be in my honor, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy it.

And I wasn’t surprised when the two assholes moved toward me, grabbing my arms and lifting me. There were more zip ties. Another cloth. One of them was already holding the spewing hose. They aimed it at my face. Then they did it again.

I flinched at the sound of the door opening and tucked my arms into my sides even closer, like my body had any heat left to make a difference. It didn’t.

None of that worked either. I was cold down to my damn bones. My jaw hurt from how hard and long my teeth had rattled.

Everything seemed so blurry now, so I had no idea. I felt straight awful as I lifted my head and peered at the doorway, expecting the worst.

I hoped their significant others cheated on them.

“Depends. Are we going somewhere fun for me or fun for you?” That got me two glares. Stupid asses.

“Get up,” the other man demanded with a flat tone that made me think none of this was new to him. Did they do this a lot?

Fuck all these motherfuckers. I wasn’t going to die in here.

I hadn’t let my brain wander too far in his direction. He had to be fine. They weren’t desperate enough to hurt him yet, but at some point, they’d bring his head to me on a silver platter or some shit—or at least they would try, and surprise!

Because sprawled on his back with his head drooped to the side was Sleeping Superhero Beauty.

But the alarming part was the way his chest rose and fell way too slowly. Slower than ever. Oh shit. Oh shit.

“Temporary friend?” I tried again, attempting to ignore the panic rising in my chest. Nothing. “Wake up.” My voice cracked. “Hercules, wake up.” Nothing.

Tears popped up in my eyes, and I wiped them off with the back of my hand. I shook his shoulder, squeezed his biceps, and even grabbed his cold hand. Nothing.

“You can’t do this to me,” I whispered. What the hell had they done to him? How could they have hurt him? He’d said he was invulnerable. More tears formed in my eyes as I lifted his arm and let it ...

“What the fuck are you doing?” he snapped, coughing. Going up to an elbow, he grabbed his throat, eyes wide. “You trying to make sure I have tonsils?” Some part of my brain recognized the fact that he looked shocked. Like I’d really surprised the hell out of him.

“What the hell would I be choking on? I was resting!” The Defender gave me the ugliest fucking look I’d ever seen.

“Why the fuck would you do that? Why didn’t you open your eyes when I came in? I tried talking to you,” I cried. “I thought you were dying, and I thought it was my fault, and….” Slapping a hand over the center of my chest, I shook my head. I’d felt like I was about to have a heart attack there.

“Fuck you, dammit.” His eyes almost bulged out. “Fuck me?”

Fuck him. “Fuck you,” I repeated so there was no misunderstanding what I said.

“Were you… crying for me?” he asked almost warily. Why did he sound so surprised?

I took advantage of the time.” A little growl formed in his throat. “I didn’t think you were going to stick your whole hand down my damn throat.”

He gave me a terrible glare before his eyes finally flicked down, as if noticing that I wasn’t wearing a shirt. Or maybe he was finally noticing that I had boobs. The Defender’s gaze moved back up toward my face. He stared at me. I stared back.

Then he grunted something under his breath before slowly sitting up, wincing as he did. But once he was in a seated position, his gaze was steady on mine as his hands went to his hoodie and he unzipped it.

And that’s when he pulled the shirt up over his head and tossed it. It hit me in the face. By the time I pulled it off, he was pulling the hoodie back on, zipping it up over his abs, then the rest of him.

Even with my head on the verge of bursting, I’d gotten a good look at everything. Including his chest. The chest. The chest to end all chests.

I’d noticed it was a nice one before, but I hadn’t appreciated just how mag...

The amount of muscle mass—all defined and impressive—shouldn’t have been surprising. Because again, the suit hugged everything. But it still caught me off guard. He was shredded.

There were also his pectorals and thick, solid abs, which were also covered with a sprinkling of dark hair. He glared at me for about the millionth time. “Would you close your mouth?” I closed it and glared right back. “Nobody told you to strip, Magic Mike, and I didn’t say anything when you were looking at my boobs a second ago. You could’ve just given me the hoodie instead of getting naked.”

“Are you done crying now?” I shrugged. “You done fingering my throat?” My face burned.

“You can only blame yourself for that. I was trying to save your life.” His snort shocked me.

“What’s wrong with you?” a familiar, rich voice asked as I cracked my eyes open. I moaned. Oh shit. Had someone beat me up and then run me over with a Humvee while I’d been sleeping?

They were glowing.

Reality was, I was going to fucking die if we didn’t get out of here soon.

“You need to get out of here. You look better, and I think you’re feeling better—” “I am,” he cut me off.

His nod was severe. Oh, that was good. That was great. But…

My head throbbed so bad I whimpered. The urge to throw up right there, but I’d already thrown up everything I had in me. I couldn’t even summon tears now, I was so dehydrated. But the part that concerned me the most was that I wasn’t hungry or thirsty either.

“Why would you risk your life to save me? Why didn’t you leave like you said you would?” Oh. He remembered. I tried to shrug but closed my eyes instead. “I only said I’d leave if someone was coming for you. I’ve never wanted anyone to get hurt because of me. I’m not going to let you suffer for it.” It was that easy.

I groaned at the feel of something damp touching my forehead. More than touching it, pressing down on it.

“What are you doing?” I whispered, my voice hoarse as hell. Just when I’d thought I couldn’t possibly feel worse, my body said check this shit out. And I was checking it out. I was checking it out big-time.

The superbeing rolled his eyes. “Trying to cool you down. What does it look like?”

Honestly though, for one microsecond, I’d thought he was planning on playing tonsil hockey in revenge.

The gorgeous man still hovering over me huffed. “I’m trying to keep you alive.”

“You keep surprising me.” That was the understatement of the century. That perfect face went a little funny.

“Thank you,” I repeated, “for trying to help me.”

“I’ve never taken care of anything.” Oh.

The Defender sighed and got up, walking… normal. He’d gotten up effortlessly, no huffing, no puffing, no struggling at all.