Page 42

Not my best parting line, but it had to do.

For the rest of that night, I hadn’t let myself look in the direction of where I’d left Colton, focusing on my drinks and my game of darts. I’d hustled myself a hundred bucks and pissed off a couple of bikers. Win, win.

I’d left after paying my tab, stumbling only slightly. Sharon’s casserole had appropriately lined my stomach, so I wasn’t exactly blackout drunk. I was close to it, though. A heavy drinker on occasion, sure. But I didn’t actually get shitfaced on the regular. Especially not while on a job. Too dangerous.

I whistled in the parking lot, swaying on my feet as I walked in the direction of my car. Despite my inebriated state, I knew he was following me from the moment I left the bar. I’d let him do it, allowed him to think he was being stealth. I was feeling charitable. I let him come up behind me, grab me roughly, and slam me up against the edge of the building, away from the twinkling overhead lights.

If I hadn’t been nursing some broken ribs, the impact wouldn’t have even been enough to sting. As it was, it smarted a little. I smiled in the flushed, enraged face of the finance bro from earlier.

“Oh, Chip.” I clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth. “I didn’t know you had it in you. Honestly, I’m impressed you have the balls.”

The insult only served to incense him further, which was the goal.

“Shut up, you fucking slut.” He bashed me against the wall, even harder that time.

Charming.

“Unfortunately, I won’t shut up.” I kept my tone ultra sweet despite the agony ricocheting through me. “Fortunately, you’ve now done enough that my response can be defined as self-defense.”

He hadn’t been holding me nearly tight enough. He was sloppy. Angry. Surely used to women who were appropriately scared of men because they were the worst beast they’d come across.

Fair.

The knife in my belt was pure silver, soaked in holy water for good measure. Not that that was required with an overblown human asshole. It was pointy and sharp. That was all I needed.

A quick movement he wasn’t expecting reversed our places, him now with his back against the wall, me caging him in. I didn’t make the mistake of holding him loosely. I placed the blade at his neck, delighting in the terror in his gaze when I didn’t hesitate to break the skin. As blood trickled down the edge of my knife, he quickly began whimpering.

“Ah, not so tough now, are we?” I pressed harder.

Fury danced through my veins at the motherfucking gall of this guy. The gall of most men.

“P-please.” The hands that had been trying to tear the knife from my clutches fell down by his sides. “I just wanted to⁠—”

“What?” I pushed the knife harder. Any deeper, I’d nick an artery—which I hadn’t ruled out. There was a reason I didn’t go to bars with a loaded gun. I acted too rashly. Pulling a trigger took a second. A knife required a little more effort, therefore, more time to reconsider the messy business of killing a rich asshole.

“What were you going to do, Chip?” My spittle sprinkled his ruddy cheek. “Reclaim your misplaced masculinity by raping me? Beating me? Punishing me for saying no—and adding a bit of color to the rejection, I’ll admit.” I scowled at him, feeling burning, visceral hatred. Bloodlust roared in my ears, the need to kill almost overwhelming. “But no matter how we phrase it, no means no. And men like you will never learn. So I’ll just do us all a favor and⁠—”

“No!” At his scream, I hurriedly looked over my shoulder, hoping we were still the only two people outside.

Of course, we fucking weren’t. I didn’t benefit from having luck like that. With my knife pinned to the bastard’s throat, I watched as a dark figure stepped closer.

“Do us all a favor and let him go, appropriately chastised and probably in need of a new pair of underwear?” Colton asked in a composed, serene tone.

He was focused on Chip with a placid fury. Though his hands were fisted at his sides, his words were calm, measured. He was playing the part of being the peacemaker, but I saw war in his eyes.

Colton was madder than hell. Maybe because he didn’t like men getting handsy with women, attempting to assault them, or maybe because he had a misplaced sense of ownership over me.

Damn, I’d been sure that he’d left. I hadn’t let Chip sneak up on me, but somehow, Colton had managed. To be fair, I was busy. And shitfaced.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded, not letting Chip go despite him struggling weakly.

“I was coming to save your ass,” Colton answered plainly.

I smiled at him. “And now look at you, a hero without a distressed maiden to save. I’ll do the dragon slaying. You can walk on.”

He folded his arms, widened his stance, effectively rooting himself in place. “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“Of course, you can’t,” I grumbled. “Mister Goody Two-shoes.”