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Her comment to the man who held a gun in her face dragged me from my ridiculous moment of appreciation. What the hell did the girl think she was doing? The assailant’s back was to me, but I was able to see her scrunched-up face clearly. Even her body stance, especially after she planted one hand on her hip, glaring at him, was capable of provoking someone with more honorable intentions.
It was too bad I hadn’t brought my registered Glock with me. I inched closer and had no doubt the girl could see me out of the corner of her eye. Thankfully, they didn’t even flicker in acknowledgement of my presence, but I noticed her other arm was slowly sliding down the side of her body. Ah, shit. I had a bad feeling she was reaching for a panic button.
I was no expert on criminals, but I could tell by the way the asshole shifted from foot to foot, his body shaking, that he was trigger happy. Any move she made could likely cause a reaction she wouldn’t recover from. I was no one’s hero, but I wasn’t going to allow someone so enticingly beautiful to die in my presence. Just what the hell was I supposed to use to counter the fact his finger was firmly positioned on the trigger?
“You wanna die today, bitch?” the asshole asked.
I’ll be damned if the woman wasn’t ready to issue a nasty retort. A split second later, a wash of electricity rushed into my system. The lovely woman had grown irritated I was standing just off to the side. Instead of a look of relief, I sensed annoyance. Then again, she had no clue what I was capable of.
With stealth-like actions, I inched closer, noticing an object I believed would work. There was no time for hesitation. I grabbed the oversized can, my actions catching the robber’s attention, which was exactly what I’d hoped would occur. The gunman turned slightly and at the same time, the beauty yanked a shotgun from under the counter.
I tossed the can, hitting the asshole squarely in the forehead, knocking him down to the floor, the gun flying out of his hand. Lunging forward, I kicked the weapon away, immediately pressing my foot against his neck.
“Nice move, slick. You could have gotten me killed.”
Her voice was sultry, deeper than I’d expected and full of anger.
“Slick? I was in full control,” I told her as I glanced over my shoulder, adding enough pressure the gunman was choking. She remained with the double barrel pointed at my chest, her look of disdain making even a man like me uncomfortable. “So, sweetheart. Are you going to shoot your savior or call the police?”
“First of all, I’m not your goddamn sweetheart. Second, and perhaps of utmost importance is that I’m the one holding the weapon in my hand, city slicker. I suggest you respect the woman behind it.”
“Touché. What do you prefer I call you?”
“Nothing. I’d prefer you’d leave.”
“Like I said, I’m just your savior.” She was perhaps the most challenging woman I’d ever encountered. Why did I have the burning desire to tame the savage beast? The thought tightened my balls, filthy thoughts running through my mind.
Her light green eyes flashed another moment of rage, her fingers locked around the weapon. She wasn’t shaking nor could I sense any fear. Maybe it was still the Wild West out here. I almost snickered from the thought.
“Savior, huh? I doubt you could save yourself out of a paper bag, slick. Didn’t you know? There’s no such thing as a fucking hero,” she hissed, darting her venomous eyes to the floor and back up, sneering as if shaming me for my attire. So I wasn’t dressed in faded jeans. So what?
It usually took a woman a solid two hours before she hated me. “Then the sooner we can get this under control, the quicker I’ll be out of your hair, darlin’,” I tossed back in her direction. Few women had managed to get under my skin, but this one had. Maybe it was her fiery attitude or the fact I wanted nothing more than to run my fingers through her silky strands of hair that had taken my breath away. However, the girl needed a lesson in not biting the hand that fed her, at least metaphorically.
We had a little stare down, neither one of us blinking. I had to admit, my mind drifted to filthy places. Meanwhile, the idiot on the floor was moaning, blood from the can smashing into his head trickling down his face.
“Like I said. Why don’t you contact the police?”
“Sure. I’ll call them,” she snarked. “Don’t do anything else stupid or I’ll have to shoot you.”
“Do you have any rope by any chance, sugar? It might be good to keep him wrapped and ready when they do arrive.” As if to prove my point, the fucker tried to jerk up, immediately reaching for his weapon. I wrapped my hand around his hoodie, yanking him off the floor and issuing a single brutal punch to his face. At least the force knocked him out cold.
I was only looking for a little thanks for potentially saving her life. When she started clapping, I slowly turned my head in her direction. She was even more beautiful up close, her porcelain skin shimmering from the first rays of morning light streaming in through the glass doors and windows. I lifted my eyebrows, giving her the same glare.
“Yeah, really nice going, slick.” She placed the shotgun on the counter. “Keep him occupied, will ya? Oh, and I’m no one’s sugar, especially you.” She grabbed a phone from under the counter, heading to a door leading into the back room.
I glanced down at my wrinkled suit and sighed. She had no clue who she was talking to. Maybe that was a good thing. It seemed like I’d met my match.
But what fun it would be to try to tame her.
Jessica
Fucking men.
The two words continued to shift back and forth in my mind.
“Please get to the point, Mr. Barclay, because I’ve had a shit day.” That was putting it mildly. After almost being gunned down by a druggie who needed money for his next fix, followed by some slick he-man thinking I was going to kiss his ass for tossing a can of peaches at the asshole’s head and my truck not starting when I was late picking up my girl, I was ready to bite the head off a bat and enjoy it.
About the only good aspect to the shitty day had been the Good Samaritan who’d had jumped cables. Now I prayed to God my truck wouldn’t break down on me before my next payday. I couldn’t afford a new battery, let alone something worse. I had a terrible feeling the alternator was going. If that was the case, I was screwed. I was busy shoving a couple of things into Britta’s overnight bag, including her favorite two books. When two pages fell out, I grimaced, throwing my arm into the air and giving a one finger salute.
