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Chapter Ten
Well, he’d seen a taste of Sable’s tantrums and lived to tell the tale. Jethro couldn’t tell what precisely had made her freak out, but it hadn’t scared him.
Yeah, it was kind of unfair, but it was hard to fight fair when you were terrified, and Sable clearly had been. Of what—that would take more digging to figure out, but he’d be willing to do the work. If she’d let him.
After she’d run out, he’d changed back into his street clothes and stared at his watch trying to decide what to do next. The party was still going on out in the public areas of the club and if he really wanted to play, he could probably find a willing partner.
And yeah, his palm itched to feel the smooth skin of a woman’s backside under it, and he wanted to coddle and cuddle someone after he’d pinked up her bottom. But in truth when he pictured the scene, it was always Sable’s golden eyes staring over her shoulder at him while she was turned over his lap. Sable’s angular form that he had spread across his thighs, and the smell of Sable’s hair that he breathed in while he held her. Dammit.
And now he had regrets about not following her out of the club when she’d left. That constant nagging worry overtook him even though there wasn’t much in this neighborhood and the parking lot hadn’t been full when he arrived.
She was probably on her way home now, and chasing her would be the height of stupid. Well, he was good with plants but no one had ever said he was too smart with anything else.
Hefting his Santa suit over his shoulder, he headed out, nodding goodbyes as he made his way through the club, waving off attempts to get him to stop. He was tired. He’d go home, let the dogs out while he took a quick shower and jerked off to the image of Sable’s spank-reddened bottom, and then he’d fall into bed, wake up, and have to look at her and pretend he knew nothing tomorrow evening.
Which he’d be good at, but he wouldn’t enjoy it.
The cold of the outdoors hit him like a punch to the gut. The temperature had dropped since he arrived. His truck was at the end of the parking lot, and he was about to get in and start her up when he heard something that chilled him down to the bone. Deeper and more visceral than the cold of the air, the sound was enough to shrivel a man’s balls if not his soul.
There was a fundamental difference between a woman screaming from consensual pain and one screaming in terror. If someone asked him to explain it in words, he wouldn’t be able to, but dammit, he could feel it, and this was the latter, not the former.
Jethro didn’t think twice as he headed off at a sprint toward the sound. If he arrived at the scene and he was wrong and it was just some drunkards from the bar down the street horsing around, great. He’d look kind of foolish and be on his way. But he was 99 percent certain that wasn’t the case. When he’d run the length of a block, he knew why.
There was a woman pressed up against a sleek dark silver SUV and a man standing behind her. Not exhibitionists having some ill-advised fun either. No, the man had her arm wrenched up behind her back in a way that could do some serious damage and the woman looked slumped against the door in resignation—was she even conscious or had the fucker knocked her out?
He was only a few steps closer when his brain connected the dots of what she was wearing and realized it was Sable. He couldn’t run any faster than he was already but goddamn if his heart didn’t try to spur him on by beating harder and faster.
Jethro didn’t shout to get the man’s attention but counted on surprise to get his shots in: a right jab to just behind the asshole’s ear followed quickly by a left hook to his kidney.
His assault had the desired effect of making the guy stagger back and fall to his knees, forehead toward the ground looking like he was going to puke. Jethro didn’t give him the chance but grabbed his hair and sent a knee into his nose, feeling the crack and give of cartilage followed by a bellow of pain.
It wasn’t exactly a surprise to recognize that piece of shit Trent from earlier, but it did make Jethro wish he could curb-stomp the guy no matter what it cost him.
But he had more important things to attend to. When Trent had let go of Sable, she’d crumpled to the ground and fuck if he was going to let her languish on the snow-dusted pavement.
He kept half an eye on that spineless piece of shit while he went to Sable and turned her over, gathered her in his arms and into his lap as he sat with his back to the SUV.
“Sable? Baby? Can you talk to me?”
She blinked at him and it sent an icicle lancing through his gut. Yeah, she’d looked at him in a chilly way before but it had always been aggressively, actively cold, as though she wanted him to feel it. This time there was nothing behind her eyes—no fury, no pain, no disdain. She was…blank.
“Come on, baby,” he pleaded, running his gaze over her body and noticing a crushed and torn scrap of fabric on the ground beside her. Were those her panties? Trent was lucky he had Sable to distract him, otherwise he’d be a dead man. “Say something, please. Anything. Insult me, yell at me, I don’t care. Just…”
He brushed some stray strands of hair away from her face and his throat tightened.
“Jethro?”
It was soft and toneless but damn if her voice saying his name wasn’t the best thing he’d heard all day.
“Yeah, it’s me. I’ve got you. No one else is going to touch you. Everything’s going to be okay now, I promise.”
It was a stupid thing to say—he didn’t know what had happened and he couldn’t promise a damn thing except that if Trent tried anything else Jethro made no guarantees about being able to stop himself from beating the man to a bloody pulp. What kind of person stalked a woman, hurt a woman?
Sable didn’t respond but turned her face into his pec and closed her eyes. His chest was tight as he held her to him, and he dug in his pocket for his phone. Once he wrangled it out and thumbed in his password and got into his contacts, he started talking again. Maybe she couldn’t, but he’d chatter like a monkey if it made her feel any better.
“I’m gonna call Ian, get him and anyone he can round up to come out here and make sure that fucker gets arrested. Then we’re gonna get you to a hospital to get checked out.”
She didn’t move or acknowledge what he’d said and that was fucking terrifying but he couldn’t put off calling Ian. He’d handle one thing at a time.
Ian picked up after a couple of rings and Jethro interrupted his greeting.
“Ian, it’s Jethro. That fucker who was giving Sable a hard time attacked her when she was getting in her car. She’s parked a couple blocks north of the club at Pine and Washington. Get here now and bring back up. I nailed the bastard in his kidney and his ear but I don’t know how long he’s going to be out of commission for.”
He heard Ian shout for Hudson and Ryker on the other end of the line.
“Is she okay? How bad is she hurt?”
Jethro shook his head helplessly, as if Ian could see him. “I don’t know. I don’t see any blood but she won’t talk to me.”
“I saw Eric earlier. If he’s still here, I’ll grab him and bring him too. We’ll be right there.”
