Damn, that kid knew how to absolutely melt my heart, and I hugged him fiercely back. “I love you, too, Little Bro. If you need me during the night, come and get me, okay?”
Seth was already walking down the hall, his back to me. “Sure,” he answered, then disappeared into his room.
I watched for a minute longer before heading back downstairs to finish up with Nyx. In the back of my mind, though, I worried—about Seth, about why Preacher had to leave in such a rush, especially before I had the chance to talk to him. Preacher was getting a little too old to be hauling ass anywhere, much less hopping a boat to Da Island. Anything could happen so far out in the sound, but he wouldn’t listen.
And of course, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get rid of the image of that one guy, staring at me through the storefront, and it irritated me that I dwelled on it. I mean, dozens of guys stare, and dozens come into the shop, and a dozen more hit on me—a lot of them are pretty cute, too. So what was it about this guy? Was it because he didn’t hit on me? The thought nearly made me laugh. Wasn’t that a dude’s way of thinking?
Surprisingly, the night went by uneventfully, and that was truly a miracle for a Saturday night. We had a pack of punks come in just before we closed, acting loud and obnoxious (and totally reminding me of me at that age), and one made a grave mistake. One of the boys walked up behind me and took me by surprise when he put his hand on my arm. Before he could say a word, I had his arm yanked behind him and jacked up high enough that he stood on the toes of his All Stars, yelping, “Hey!,” his pubescent voice cracking. He was a big kid, too—at least six feet tall. I jacked his arm higher up his back. “Okay, okay!”
“Oh, yeah,” Nyx said apologetically. “You don’t want to ever do that.” She smiled, her auburn pigtails swinging as she shook her head. “She doesn’t like to be touched.”
“You guys come back when you find your manners,” I said, and gave the kid a little shove. He glared at me, and his friends laughed. I lifted a brow. “And when those IDs are legit, big guy.”
“Goddamn, she’s hot!” one of them said as they all rushed from the store and headed up the sidewalk. I just shook my head and glanced at Nyx, who grinned. It being so late, I released her from her obligation of dinner at Garibaldi’s—for the time being, anyway. I didn’t want to leave Seth home alone. Instead, I ordered from Chen’s (orange chicken, vegetable lo mein noodles, and two shrimp egg rolls) and stayed in for the night. I worked out (I have a kickboxing bag hanging in my bedroom that I knock the hell out of daily) and took a long bath. Seth was still hard asleep when I took Chaz for a walk around eleven forty-five.
I walked along Factor’s Walk toward Emmet Park. No one was close by, although in the distance I saw people crossing Bay Street, and down on the riverfront I could hear laughter and music pouring from the bars. Lamplight burned a dim glow against the cobbles, making the shadows pitch long from the cannon and cross. The slightest of breezes wafted by, and it was at the same moment Chaz jerked to a stop and sniffed the air that the hair on my neck lifted. I turned fast around but found no one. “Come on, boy,” I told Chaz, and although he continued to sniff the ground, he’d pause, too, and look cautiously around.
We’d walked all the way to the end of Emmet Park and down the cobbled curve onto River Street, the Waving Girl Statue in view, when the feeling struck again. I jerked a look behind me, scanned the shadows, but noticed nothing unusual. A low growl emanated from Chaz’s throat, and I tugged on his leash. “Let’s go, boy.”
“Nah, don’t go yet,” a voice said from the recesses of the darkness. “Party’s just startin’, babe.”
Four guys emerged into the lamplight, and I immediately recognized two of them as the punks who’d come into Inksomnia earlier. The one talking was the kid I’d jacked up. Figures. I’d bruised his pubescent pride, and now he wanted to get me back. Chaz growled. “Yeah, I don’t think so,” I said, and turned to walk away.
“Oh, man, you just got blowed,” one said, and they all laughed. The kid I’d jacked moved in front of me, and I stopped. The others, who seemed a little older, crowded around me, but just out of reach of Chaz, whose growling deepened. I tugged his leash. “Down, boy.” Great. Here we go. I hated having to kick juvenile ass, but I’d do it if forced. And it looked like I was being forced. “Don’t make me give him the command,” I said.
I lifted a brow. “Sic balls,” I whispered. One of my most favorite movie quotes, from Stand by Me. Loved that freaking movie.
“I can change your mind, you know,” the jacked kid said, ignoring my humor. Half his face was hooded in shadow, but the other half was all cocky smiles and teenage smugness.
“About what?” I said, barely able to keep from laughing.
“Being touched,” he answered, and stepped toward me. He rubbed his hand over his burr-cut hair. “Your friend said you didn’t like it, but I think I can change your mind.”
I dropped Chaz’s leash and glanced at the half circle of guys. “Stay, Chaz,” I commanded. “So let me get this straight. You’re what? Gonna hold me down while your little friend here puts the moves on me? Really?”
“You’re on my turf now,” he said, shrugging. “No one around but us, babe.”
I laughed, stepped closer, and gave him a seductive stare. His eyes widened at what looked like anticipation. “Did you really just say turf? Please.” And just that fast I kneed his crotch. He yelled and bent over at the waist, and I brought my knee up hard and connected with his chin.
“Fuck!” he screamed, and dropped to the ground in agony.
“And don’t call me babe,” I added, and glanced at the others. They all had blank stares on their faces as they looked at their friend on the ground.
Something moved from the shadows—so fast my eyes couldn’t keep up. I stood frozen in place, no time to react. All three guys were lifted off their feet and flung in opposite directions, their muffled curses cracking the night air, followed by heavy thumps as they crumpled to the ground. I twisted and turned, searching in all directions. “Hey!” I hollered. What the hell?
Then, from the corner of the building, a figure moved but did not emerge. From the tall, lean shape I could tell it was a guy. I moved closer.
“Don’t,” he said, and I stopped. His smooth and slightly accented voice crossed the darkness to my ears, firm, commanding. Groans from the fallen punks drifted on the night air. Chaz, who sat still, growled low in his throat.
My insides shook. Not out of fear, but out of adrenaline. What had I just seen? Rather, not seen? And why was he hiding? “You’re pretty quick. Thanks—”
“Are you stupid?” he asked, his tone steady, angry, as he interrupted me. “Why would you come out here so late? Alone?” He swore under his breath.
I blinked in surprise. “Uh, my dog had to pee. Thanks for the help.” I turned, grabbed Chaz’s leash, and started back up the cobbled curve to head home. Who the hell was that guy? A citizen vigilante? He didn’t have to know I needed no help at all, but damn. Why was he angry? Not all females were helpless. I shook my head and crossed the park, and I made it all the way to Inksomnia’s back door before his voice jolted me. One second I’m pushing the key into the lock and Chaz runs inside, and in the next second, he is standing directly beside me. My reflexes kicked in, and my fist flew up to his jaw, but he easily caught it in one hand. His grip was like steel, and I couldn’t budge my arm. I lifted my knee, but before I could cram it into his crotch (in case you haven’t noticed, a favorite move of mine), he had me completely pinned against the brick wall of my shop. With the streetlight shining behind him, his face was nothing more than a dark shadow. With one hand he closed the door. My heart thumped fast. This was not a situation I wanted to be in. I stared at his darkened face, waiting.
“You’re too careless,” he warned. “Those punks outnumbered you. They could’ve hurt you.” He drew his head closer, and I could barely see the outline of a strong jaw, shaggy hair. He looked . . . familiar. “I could hurt you,” he said, his voice deathly quiet.
I knew he could see every inch of my face—I could feel his gaze searching every feature I had. The streetlamp’s light poured directly onto me. I jutted out my jaw and narrowed my eyes. “Well, either hurt me or get the fuck off me,” I said, just as quiet. “Now.” One scream would have any of my neighbors running outside, but I waited. He seemed to weigh the situation as he stared at me. I felt threatened but not fearful. Weird.
It was several seconds before he released me from the wall. “Don’t be so reckless,” he said. “You’re not as strong as you think.”
I wasn’t stupid. Even though I felt no fear, I didn’t exactly want this guy forcing his way into my apartment, although I guess he could have done that earlier, had he wanted to. I kept my eyes trained on his shadowy face and eased my hand behind me, to the door handle. “I’ll keep that in mind.” I gently turned the knob. A sound behind my Jeep made me jump—a can rolling, something. I glanced, and when my gaze returned to my almost-attacker, I blinked. He was gone. Yeah, just that fast. I took a quick glimpse up and down merchant’s drive, but he was nowhere. No-freaking-where. I didn’t wait for a reappearance. I hurried inside and locked the door. As I got ready for bed and checked on Seth, who—surprise—was still sleeping, I tried to put the whole strange incident out of my head. Who was that guy? And why did he give a rat’s ass if I was reckless or not? Finally, I drifted off.
Sometime later, a noise pulled me out of sleep, and I sat straight up in bed. My breath came fast, and I could actually feel my heart pound through my T-shirt. Chaz, on his bed in the corner, kept silent. The streetlamp shone straight into my room, against the aged white brick wall, and for a flash second I thought someone stood in the shadows, watching me. My heart nearly stopped, thinking my personal vigilante had returned. Then I thought better. “Seth?” I said, thinking he’d come in and needed me. “Is that you?” I reached over and turned on the lamp. When I looked again, no one was there. The gauzy white curtains hanging at the balcony’s French doors billowed out on a breeze. I didn’t remember leaving the doors open. I listened for a few seconds, my groggy head trying to clear. I then realized the TV was on in the living room. Stumbling out of bed, I closed the French doors and followed the sounds to find Seth, sitting on the sofa, watching MTV. With his shades on. I stood in the archway, yawning. “What’s up? You feel better?”