Buzzcut leaned to the side and burped, still holding his beer bottle.Yeah, maybe he’s drunk too.
He closed the distance, holding out his hands, preparing to undo the clasp of my watch.
When Shorty moved within the dangerous slashing distance but not close enough for me to disarm him, I sobbed some more. “Please don’t.”
I struck, grabbing the wrist of Shorty’s knife hand, twisting it violently down and then behind his back, forcing him to turn to keep me from breaking his arm.
He screamed from the pain as I forced the arm up behind him.
I heard the pop of his shoulder dislocating. The knife dropped to the ground. Buzzcut roared and lunged forward, stumbling.
Oh, no you don’t. Shoving Shorty at the big man, I dodged right.
Shit.It wasn’t enough. Buzzcut caught my wrist.
“Peyton.” The yell came from across the street. It was March. I’d never heard a more welcome sound.
Shorty lay moaning on the concrete. “She broke my fucking arm.”
I failed to wriggle my wrist loose from the big guy. “My boyfriend is going to pound you to dust.”
Buzzcut glanced that way. “No way.” He unbuckled the strap of my watch.
When he looked toward March, I kicked him, catching him in the shin, and wrenched my arm loose, sending another kick to his gut.
Buzzcut yelled, stumbling backward, clutching my watch.
March ran full speed toward us.
The monster lunged. His fist slammed into my temple, and pain exploded across my face, sending me backward.
My head hit the wall hard. It felt like it might explode.
Then…everything faded to black.
Zane
Peyton?She had to be all right. Fighting back my fear, I raced as fast as I could toward the fight, searching for another gear.
“Bitch.” The monster wound up to hit her again.
I let out my most blood-curdling roar.
Seeing me hurtling toward him, the big guy decided to grab his buddy, and they ran away. I desperately wanted to chase the pair down and beat them to bloody fucking pulps, but Peyton needed me. Peyton was my priority. I knelt beside her.
She was unconscious, but her pulse was strong. She also had a cut on her wrist where her expensive watch had been. I carefully picked her up, supporting her head, and jogged with her back to the bar.
Be okay. Be okay.This was my fault. If only I’d insisted on driving her, or followed her more closely, I could have prevented this.
Peyton’s eyes struggled to open. “What?”
“I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”
She struggled against me. “Down… Put me down.”
“No.” I tightened my grip, preparing for the argument. She’d been knocked out. No way was I putting her down and walking away from this.
The argument didn’t come. “They wanted my…” She didn’t finish the sentence before I made it to the bar’s door.
