“What—” Expletives spewed from the loser who held a toddler dangled from one arm and an overly dramatic kitchen knife in the other.
A girl stood six feet away from him just inside what looked like a living room, her cheeks soaked with tears.
Two women were in the room behind her. One on a sofa and one standing near her. The elegance of the second woman couldn’t be missed, even in a split-second glance. Victoria.
Awareness surged Cillian’s pulse double-time, his gaze wanting to linger. But he jerked his attention back to the troublemaker who was endangering Victoria and three others.
“Who are you? You better get out of here while you can walk.”
“Wow.” Cillian straightened to his full height, several inches taller than the knife-wielding punk. “I’ve never seen such a show of real manhood.” He raked a derisive gaze over the guy and the toddler. “What are you gonna do after this? Beat up some old ladies?”
Anger flared the punk’s nostrils. “Maybe. If it’s your old lady.”
Cillian laughed. “What do ’ya know, he can make a joke. Guess that means you’re a brainy kid. No brawn.”
The guy’s eyes narrowed like a flinch. Another hit to the dude’s ego. One or two more insults should do the trick.
“That’s why you take on toddlers and women. Awesome flex, dude. Bet the bullies picked on you all the time, didn’t they?” Cillian laced his tone with exaggerated pity.
“You better shut your mouth, you—” The punk added a string of unflattering names and expletives.
Cillian grinned. “You sure talk a lot. I’m beginning to think you’ve never used a knife before, have you? Definitely not on a real man. Somebody your own size.”
“I’ll use it to cut out your heart, you—” More colorful words followed as Cillian met the punk’s gaze, keeping his grin.
“Go for it.” Cillian waited. Senses sharp, ready.
The guy would drop the kid for a better attack.
The toddler slipped a micro-inch.
The punk was starting to loosen his hold as he stared at Cillian. The fear in his eyes was a clear tell. He wouldn’t have the guts to go for a lunge. He’d try a slash instead.
There. His grip on the knife tightened, the shift of the blade giving him away.
Cillian kept his hands at his side, fingers loose.
A tiny movement, a slight lean in the punk’s torso.
Now.
The toddler fell to the floor as Cillian met the punk more than halfway.
Cillian darted around the predicted path of the knife, swiped the attacker’s hand away. Gripped his wrist. He twisted the arm around the punk’s back, ready to dislocate his shoulder.
“Ah, I give up.” The attacker opened his hand behind his back, letting the knife drop to the floor.
“And that’s supposed to make me not break your arm?” Cillian twisted a little farther. The punk deserved to feel a little pain. Might make him think twice before attacking women and children again. But probably not.
“Come on, man!” The punk twisted his head, trying to see Cillian behind him.
“Freeze! Police!” An officer stepped through the doorway, his gun raised.
“Looks like the cops are your friends today, pal.” Cillian murmured the words by the punk’s head before he met the officer’s alert gaze. “This man used a knife to threaten assault and harm to the child and these women.” Cillian continued to hold the punk as he talked over his shoulder. “I’ve disarmed him, and the knife is on the floor between us now.”
The cop nodded. “Phil.” He angled his head to signal to the officer behind him, who walked around his partner toward Cillian and the punk. “You can let him go now and back away.”
Cillian did as the first cop instructed, watching until they had the punk cuffed and the knife in their possession.
