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“What? Why?” Lauren asked, her expression showing concern as she looked around at everyone.
“Just in case.”
“Ace—”
He cut her off by shutting the door once she was inside. He pointed to the lock, and only when she’d engaged it did he turn around and face the guys. He knew, could feel it in the air, smell it surrounding him, that these drunken fools didn’t just want to talk about his car.
“What is this, seventy, seventy-one?” one of the guys asked and brought his beer to his mouth. He finished it off, tossed it aside, and belched. The three of them were in front of Ace, blocking his way out. They weren’t scrawny, but they also weren’t as big as Ace, or trained like he was. They also probably didn’t have the toxic shit brewing inside of them, waiting, anticipating coming out.
“Sixty-nine,” Ace said and walked forward, intent on pushing his way through them, getting into the car, and leaving. He could have fought them, would have kicked their asses, too, but he didn’t want to do that in front of Lauren again. But they didn’t move, and in fact walked closer to him and grinned.
“Sixty-nine is a good year,” one of the punks said.
Ace rolled his head around on his neck, clenched his hands at his sides, and told himself that Lauren didn’t need to see this shit. But the truth was he was holding on by a thread right now at the threat of these bastards.
“Move out of my way,” Ace said in a calm but hard voice.
Two of the guys laughed, but one at the end, the one that seemed like he was the leader of these motherfuckers, stared at Ace with a stoic expression.
“You’re one of those guys, aren’t you?” stoic fucker said. He turned his head and spit, but kept his focus on Ace the whole time.
“One of those guys?” Ace said slowly, not about to back down. Did these assholes think he’d just roll over for them? They might get away with this bullshit wherever they were from, especially outnumbering someone, but Ace lived for this shit, lived for the violence.
“Yeah, one of those guys that looks like he might be cool on the outside, but in reality is a wannabe motherfucker.”
A wannabe motherfucker?
Was this guy for real? “I’m not looking for a fight right now, so for the safety of all of you I suggest you back the fuck up and let me and my girl leave.” He moved forward again, and although he was itching for a fight, could have knocked them on their asses and just been done with it, he really was trying to control himself.
He pushed by the two guys, but before he could move around the front of the car one of them grabbed his arm. Ace stopped, closed his eyes, and clenched his hands into fists so hard that pain spiked throughout his body.
“I’m not going to fight in front of my girl. I already said that,” he said between clenched teeth, but kept his voice neutral. Looking over his shoulder, he glared at the fucker that held onto him, then glanced down at where his hand was on Ace. “Now, move your fucking hand off of me before I break it.” That wasn’t an idle threat. Ace had no problem breaking bones, and right now he was expressing so much self-control he surprised himself. But it wouldn’t take much to have that control break.
“You mean that thick piece of meat in your car is your girl?” one of the fuckers said. The three started laughing, and Ace felt his rage rise up to a very dangerous level.
“Damn, she brings a whole new meaning to more to hang onto,” another asshole said.
Breathe. Just fucking breathe.
“Tell me, is it true about what they say?” The fucker holding him asked. “Is it true that it’s more cushion for the pushin’?” The three started laughing hard, and that was Ace’s breaking point. They’d insulted Lauren, his fucking Lauren, and now they were going to see what happened when they did that bullshit.
Ace turned around, grabbed the guy that touched him by the arm, and twisted it back far enough the fucker squealed like a pig. With Ace still holding onto his arm, he brought his fist back, and hit the prick right in the middle of the nose. Blood immediately gushed out, and he pushed the guy back, the dick crying out as he cupped his face. The other two asses stared at their friend in shock, then turned their heads toward Ace.
“You bastard,” one said and charged forward.
Ace slammed his hand, slightly palm upward, into the guy’s face, and added just enough pressure to break his nose. The asshole fell to the ground, blood pooling out of his nose now, too. Ace rolled his head around on his neck, felt adrenaline pump through him, but before he could see where the third guy was a flash of pain struck the side of his head.
