“You don’t scare me.” The fuck smirks.
“Good thing I’m not trying to.” I take another step to close the gap.
He stares me down, chin tilting to hold my eye when I take another step forward so that our chests touch. “I’d almost think you’ve got a hard on for me with the way you behave.”
I take another step, my leg moving past his as I push him back with my body.
He retreats, but stiffens up. I know doing what I am will inflame the situation and have this fucker at my throat in no time, but that’s the necessary fallout for my main objective: see what the fuck is happening down the alley.
See if they have Kyra down there.
We continue our dance, the shorter guy pushing back harder the more that I bulldoze into him. But his best efforts aren’t enough. My advantage in size and muscle means I can push him out of the way, taking a quick side-step into the alley while he’s distracted with our showdown.
“Where the fuck are you going?” Fucker grabs a handful of my vest as I walk away, his filthy fucking hand no doubt crushing my patch.A sign of disrespect I can’t ignore.
“Where I fucking want.” I spin in a tight circle, using his fist hold in my cut to push against his arm and jerk him off balance while my fist sails for his face.
The explosion of pain through my knuckles is immediate, as is his growl when blood gushes out of his nostrils. Mad eyes find mine, and the fucker charges, but I’m ready, one foot back to brace myself when the Devil launches himself into me.
His hand slides around my throat, pushing my head up and making me take a step back into a dumpster. The asshole lands low shots into my ribs as we tussle. I shove a thumb in his left eye and push, successfully forcing him off me so I can regroup. Each breath rasps past my bruised airway.
“The fuck’s going on out there?”
The call comes from behind me, and I know it’s bad to have my back to what other danger there might be, but my immediate concern is the crazed fucker who licks the blood off his lips as he shakes his shoulders loose, revving up for round two.
I fucking left the clubhouse today without packing. I was so hellbent on finding Kyra that I strode out the door without a weapon. Any other day, and I’d have something. A knife. My gun. But that’s what they say about the day you meet your maker, ain’t it—you can’t choose when it happens.
“Come on, then,” I taunt, lifting my chin to beckon the fuck. “What are you waiting for?”
He charges again, swinging his arm up at the last moment to clothesline me. But I’m not worried about retaliation—had no intention of attacking. All my focus was on what he’d do next so that I could improvise.
And improvise, I do.
I duck, his elbow grazing my scalp as it sails overhead, and spin on my heel to take hold of his extended arm. Left hand pushing forward, I wrench my right back and bend the fucker’selbow the wrong way. He ducks and spins to relieve the pressure, twisting out of my hold with a yelp.
Might not have broken it as I intended, but I’ve sure slowed him down.
And turned us around.
All three of the remaining stragglers stand in the alley, two looking ready to jump in while the third casually sucks on a cigarette with a vague look of amusement. I scan the area behind them, but fail to find any sign of Kyra.
Maybe my gut was wrong?
A slick of panic washes over my skin, gone as quickly as it arrived.I might have fucked up, here.But hell, we’ve all got to go somehow.
“Having fun yet?” The smoker steps between the other two—a young, lanky guy, and a shorter, stocky man. “You got balls coming in here on your own. Each King for himself, is it?”
“What the fuck do you take us for?” The taunt comes from the mouth of the alley.Fang.
Fists clenched at my side, I stare down the apparent ringleader of this little crew while I keep tabs on the movements of the crazy son-of-a-bitch behind me. None of these fucks are the president or vice, which tells me I’ve come across a dirty little crew of errand boys. Why did they stay behind? What are they up to that puts them right here, in this alley, today?
“Get the fuck outta my way.” Fang steps to the side, facing off with the crazy blond who seems to figure there’s no harm in letting our sergeant at arms through if it puts him in the eye of the storm as well. Fang steps up beside me, directing his question my way while he watches the others. “What’s going on, hoss?”
“Having a friendly conversation with our visitors here,” I quip. “They were about to tell me why they decided to make a pitstop.” I roll my lips together and realize somewhere along theway I’ve either split them or bitten one in the ruckus. Copper taints the tip of my tongue.
“What’chya gonna do about it?” Smokey taunts.
I glance down at his name badge.Pits.It rings a bell, but I can’t think why at the moment.
