My stomach knotted.
Abraham was destruction held down by a thin pin. If the men from House Black wanted a fight, someone was going to be dead by the end of it.
It wouldn’t be Abraham.
“I am here to see that her well-being is intact,” he continued. “Have you damaged her, citizen Black?”
“That was not my intent,” he gasped.
“Understood. Now take your House Black business elsewhere before we have any other misunderstandings.” Abraham leaned back and lowered the man to his feet. The men from House Black all shifted as if they expected him to throw another punch.
Instead, Abraham opened the door, walked through it, and held it open. Two of the men stepped up and supported the injured guy as they made their way through the door and past Abraham.
Everyone in and just outside the café had decided they didn’t need to use the door. Though I didn’t think it possible, the crowd inside had pulled back a bit to give all of us a little breathing room.
“You are insane,” Right Ned said quietly after the men were well on their way down the street. “No one picks a fight with Defense in a coffee shop.”
“Yeah, well,” I said, releasing the hammer on the gun and tucking it away in my duffel again. “They picked a fight with me when they killed my parents.”
I turned and Neds, both of them, were grinning.
“What?” I asked.
“You,” Right Ned said. “Rebel. Always have been.”
“Don’t forget it,” I said.
“Like I could,” Right Ned said with a grin.
I stepped outside. Pulled up short.
Abraham was blocking my way, scowling.
“Are you done?” he asked.
The crowd around us moved slower than before, a few people taking pictures of us.
Well, of Abraham.
Dressed in a light gray shirt and dark gray pants tucked into heavy boots, he made for a striking figure. Powerful, dangerous. Someone who stood out in a crowd without trying. He wore his sleeves rolled up so the stitching on his arms and wrists clearly showed, and his collar was unbuttoned just enough that the line that began under the edge of his stubbled jaw could be seen.
He was making it very clear to anyone watching exactly who and what he was: galvanized.
I was staring and didn’t care. It was hard to look away from the truth of him. He carried his scars, his pain, and the weight of hard years with a strength that radiated outward. It was primal, sensual, raw. And barely controlled. I couldn’t seem to look away. I didn’t want to look away.
Something about him caught a fire in me. I licked my bottom lip as heat stretched and filled my body and thoughts. Then my imagination took over and stripped him out of his clothes, just like when he’d been wounded back on the farm. Except in my little fantasy, I was naked and he wasn’t bleeding. He was shirtless and pantless, and I was the one lying on the bed as he lowered himself down . . .
One of the Neds kicked my boot with his foot.
“I had clothes on,” I blurted.
Abraham’s eyebrow twitched up.
“Mental,” Left Ned muttered.
“Say yes.” Right Ned said through clenched teeth.
Right.
