Page 2

“What the fuck are you talking about?” the silver fox asked bluntly.

Levi gave the man a pointed look and smiled harder. “Well, come on, we’ll be late.” He tugged on the silver fox’s arm to keep him walking, then let his eyes dart momentarily toward the man following him, who had been forced to slow down when Levi stopped. The man was walking so slowly it was almost comical, barely twelve feet away as he pretended to examine his boot, which he had just used to crush his cigarette.

The silver fox looked at the man ahead of them, then back at Levi. Realization dawned on his face, and Levi waited with bated breath to see what he would do. God, he hoped this guy was queer. If he played along, Levi would be all too happy to thank him in his hotel room.

“Right,” the silver fox said. No hesitation in his voice before he started walking. Levi fell into step beside him, trying not to watch the man they were getting closer to with each step. How long would they have to walk like this? If the man just wanted to mug him, he would give up and move on to another target. But if he was a fan…

Levi stiffened as they walked past the man who had been following him, who was still pretending to examine his boot. He was so distracted by the man’s proximity that he barely noticed the silver fox’s arm tightening around him, pulling him closer.

They passed the man without incident. The silver fox walked almost imperceptibly faster, and Levi kept up with him, not letting relief wash over him as they walked further and further from the man. Maybe he should get a private bodyguard. He’d never seriously considered it before, but this was making him rethink his decision. He could reach out to Austin and see who his brother could recommend.

A flurry of footsteps made him tense. The silver fox whirled, swearing. Levi was dragged with him just in time to see the first man running at him, a knife glinting in his grip.

CHAPTER 2

Ben acted on instinct, knocking the knife out of the attacker’s hand. It went skittering into the gutter as the kid who had grabbed Ben started yelling and stumbling away.

The attacker swore and kicked him. For all Ben’s shitty luck, the guy’s attack hit him right above his bad knee, which he had spent the better part of twenty minutes stretching back at the gym, as per his physio’s annoyingly helpful instructions.

Agony exploded through Ben’s knee and radiated through his body. His traitorous leg folded like wet paper, and he crashed into the sidewalk.

The lack of a knife didn’t stop the attacker for a second. He ran at the kid and wrapped his hands around his neck. The kid clawed at his attacker’s grip, wheezing as his face went red.

“For fuck’s sake,” Ben growled. He lurched up and grabbed the attacker in a chokehold.

The attacker jerked, his grip loosening around the kid’s neck. If Ben were the kind of guy who quipped, he would have snarled something like, not so fun when it’s you getting choked, huh, asshole? But Ben was not the quipping kind of man. He was a straightforward man who got shit done. He found the most efficient way to do something, and then he goddamn did it. Right now, the most efficient way to stop the random attack he’d been dragged into was by breaking the guy’s hold. He used the chokehold he had on the attacker to grab him close and yank him into the air, ignoring the pain throbbing through his bad knee. Thankfully, this was the final straw in the man’s attempts to throttle the kid who had ambushed Ben for help. He went from squeezing the kid’s windpipe to clawing desperately at Ben’s hold, which was just what Ben wanted.

The kid who had been attacked stumbled back, wheezing. Once Ben got a better look at him, he realized he wasn’t a teenager like Ben initially assumed. This guy was in his twenties, with long, willowy limbs and a graceful face full of sharp angles. The kind of face that Ben might look twice at in a club. But Ben had more important things to think about than the guy’s pouty lips as he gasped for air. No matter how pretty he was.

“Call the cops,” Ben snapped. He waited for the guy to nod, then dragged the attacker close as he struggled against Ben’s hold. “I was just trying to walk home from the gym, you shit. You think I wanted to deal with this? What’s your problem, huh?”

The elbow caught him by surprise. Ben blamed the exhaustion that came after a gym session in the gym he owned, which he had only done because he couldn’t make his brain shut up long enough to fall asleep. Or maybe it was because he’d been out of the military for too long. Not enough fighting for his life. He never thought he’d be disappointed about that.

The attacker’s elbow slammed into Ben’s nose. There was a loud crack, and Pouty Lips yelled into the phone he’d been dialing 911 on. “Jesus, fuck! Yes, hello ma’am, I have an emergency!”

Ben gritted his teeth. His nose was pouring blood, but he couldn’t tell if it was broken. At least his grip had barely faltered. This asshole would have to do better than that if he wanted to get the better of him.

Unfortunately, the attacker chose that moment to go for Ben’s bad knee again. This time he hit Ben straight in the knee, which was already pulsing from the last hit. Ben yelled out as he went down for the second time. He tried to drag the attacker with him, but the asshole writhed out of his hold and staggered back, gasping for air.

“Capitalist pig,” he shouted hoarsely. Which was such a surprise that Ben stopped cursing his injured knee. What kind of mugger started yelling about capitalism when someone foiled their plans?

Pouty Lips ignored him, stammering into the phone. “What? Shit, I don’t know. We’re right in front of that famous waffle place that Charli XCX was at last month. What do you mean you don’t know who that is? Google it!”

The attacker continued stumbling away, never taking his eyes off Pouty Lips. Hatred made him look wild, but it wasn’t the desperation of a drug addict who needed his next fix, or some guy who hadn’t eaten in a few days, as Ben had originally assumed. He’d think the attacker was his ex, but exes usually went for a more personal insult than “capitalist pig.”

Blood flowed down Ben’s chin. He spat out a stray mouthful that had made it past his lips and tried to push himself to his feet, only for his knee to flare and give out once again.

The attacker didn’t even glance at Ben. He pointed at Pouty Lips and panted, “You… you’re a stain on the world! Your company has blood on their hands!”

“Oh my god, every billion-dollar company has blood on their hands,” Pouty Lips yelled back, confusing Ben even further. “I just wear the fucking clothes, dude! What’s this French revolution bullshit of killing every rich dumbass who was in the wrong place in the wrong decade? Go shoot the CEO if you’re so mad about it!”

But the attacker was already sprinting away. Ben watched him vanish around a corner, then tried to stand again. Another hot pulse of pain made him crash back down into the pavement. “Shit!”

Pouty Lips came hesitantly to his side, still clutching his phone. “Fuck, how bad did he get you? That looks really bad.”

“I’m fine,” Ben argued, still pissed off at himself for letting the guy get away.

“Yeah, but—” Pouty Lips gestured at his face and shuddered. “That is so much blood.”