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I suck air through my teeth. Ouch.
I shiver realizing both Marco and Alaric are standing behind me. I glance wide-eyed over my shoulder to see Alaric looking pleased with himself and Marco thirsty for blood. He goes to find his victim for what I think is round two of beat-up-the-drunk, but I throw a hand against his chest. Black cloth stretches over taut pecs when he inhales and considers me for a moment.
His indiscernible nod could be anything from “Okay, I’ll back down” to “Okay, I’ll find and kill him later”.
The music grinds to a halt and once again the pool of people between me and the front exit swoosh to the sides. I swear it’s like watching Moses part the waters. Ryth walks by the masses untouched and is solely focused on me. Six feet plus of mafia man prowls my way. Muscles roll and bunch as he grows closer. With all the people here who can help me escape, no one lifts a finger.
A woman starts to whimper and someone near her pulls out a rosary.
I’ve never found comfort in crying, but I’ll take a prayer right about now.
“Pussy cat, you can’t help causing trouble wherever you go I see.” Ryth’s pitch-black eyes hold me spellbound. I shiver, realizing the mere sound of his voice could have me dropping my panties at a simple command.
I’m human. Shoot me.
Black cloth over hard muscle pulls and gives as he takes the last few steps separating us.
“Fuck you, Ryth,” I spit out. I might as well use the one weapon I have at my disposal.
The drunk rises and Alaric is on him, arm cocked and ready to bury it into the guy’s face.
I lunge and hook both my hands around his bicep. “Whoa, you can’t go around punching people. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Fierce dark eyes turn on me and I’m knocked back by the force of their intent. I drop my hands and retreat.
“If they deserve it, I don’t see why not,” he growls menacingly.
“It’s rude.”
“No one insults you. It’s that simple.”
What? That makes no sense to me. “You would fight for me? You don’t even know me,” I half-whisper, my voice thick with awe and wonder. No one but my brother has ever fought for me. Ever. And here three men, three strangers, turn into knights and came running to my rescue. How they found me so quickly is still a question I want answered.
Ryth pulls a gun and shoots three bullets into the plaster ceiling. Patrons scream and push their way out until I am left alone with three killers.
Even the drunk hauls ass up the stairs and out the doors.
Ryth, Marco, and Alaric stalk in my direction.
Think, Nyx. Think, damn it!
I reach for my phone. I turn it on, load a file and flip it around with my thumb hovering over the send button.
I backpedal toward the nearest exit which is through the dark corridor at my back. Shit. At least it’s a way out. For every step I take they follow. I throw my other hand up. “Stay right there. Any of you come any closer or follow me out of here I will send proof of your crimes to everyone I know.” Lies. But they don’t know that I stowed away the real proof.
Their faces turn stone-cold.
“I see I have your attention.”
Ryth’s eyes narrow on me. “I don’t think you want to be foolish and get anyone killed.”
“I’m a survivor. You understand me? I think you might be surprised by what I will do.” The men glance at each other, nod, and then I’m their target once again.
“Let me go and I’ll leave the phone on the ground at the back door on my way out. Deal?”
It all happens so fast. One second, I have my finger ready to pull the proverbial trigger and the next, I’m in the air and the phone is snatched from my grasp.
Rough, masculine hands grab me around the waist, and I am suddenly plucked from where I am standing and spread out over Marco’s wide shoulder.
