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“Get away, you fuckers!” I hollered. “Let me go!”
At this point, I’d welcome a police siren if it’d buy me an opening to flee. I knew when I was overpowered.
I managed to heel the guy who’d snatched my wrist in the shin and then kick him in the groin, but as he stumbled backward, two more goons leapt on me. One of them tackled me to the sidewalk, my skull glancing off the concrete. As my thoughts spun, they held me down.
“Sheeran sends his regards, Princess,” one of them snarled. “You should have run when you had the chance.”
I flailed with all my might, jerking my arms free, but it seemed like a dozen feet were slamming at my body now. Ducking my head, I raised my arms to shield it as best I could. More blows battered my chest and abdomen. Pain lanced through my torso.
The few grunts of discomfort I was able to provoke from the ground didn’t come close to making up for my own growing agony. And then a sound reached my ears that turned my blood to ice.
The snicker of a switchblade flicking out.
This was definitely more than a warning. If I didn’t get my act together, these pricks were going to slit my fucking throat.
Either the men we’d threatened hadn’t been scared enough to act… or Sheeran hadn’t given a shit what they had to say about it.
My eyes popped open. I spotted my own knife just a few feet away beyond the deluge of kicking legs. If I could just reach it—
“Get the fuck away from her!”
That voice was familiar. That voice was home.
Rafael barreled into my attackers’ midst, colliding with the man who’d been going at my ribs like I was a soccer ball. My bodyguard clenched the asshole’s throat hard enough to break the guy’s windpipe, hurled him aside, and pummeled three other goons in quick succession.
The distraction gave me all the opening I needed. Gritting my teeth against the pain blazing through my body, I wrenched myself upright and lunged for my knife. With it held tightly in my hand, I jerked around so I was back-to-back with Rafael, glaring at Sheeran’s men.
One of Rafael’s victims lay on the ground, his head split open from the force of the impact against the corner of the sidewalk. My bodyguard let out a wordless roar, and most of the others took a step back, abruptly a whole lot less confident than when they’d been beating up on a lone woman.
“Two against all of you isn’t good enough odds?” I taunted through breaths that felt like fire. “You’re not going to try me now?”
Another of the thugs threw himself at me, but Rafael’s fist got there first. The crack of a shattering jaw radiated through the night.
When one of his colleagues tried to hurtle past to get at me, I slashed out with my knife and dragged it through his shoulder. He swore, clapping his hand to the wound.
It still might not have been enough. The other goons were regrouping, massing together to form a solid offensive. I had no idea if Rafael and I could have dispatched all of them.
Then another bellow rang down the street with the thud of racing feet. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing to her?”
Two of the men toppled as their heads were bashed together from behind. Jasper shoved into the fray, rage etched on his handsome face, his white teeth bared.
He might have been a figure skater, not a criminal, but he was built as tough as most of Sheeran’s guys. And the odds had suddenly swung even more against them, lopsided as they still were.
Jasper got in one more swing before the bunch of them surged backward. “We’re not finished with you!” one of them shouted in a dark voice.
They melded back into the shadows of the alley they’d emerged from.
Rafael probably would have given chase, but as he took a step forward, I wobbled and clutched at my side. The pain of my injuries was stabbing at me even more insistently now that my adrenaline rush was ebbing.
Rafael grabbed my arm. “Are you bleeding?” he demanded, his gaze searching my body for injuries.
I shook my head. “Nothing major. A few scrapes. But I think—” I took a strained breath. “I think I’ve at least bruised a few ribs. Maybe even cracked one.” I restrained a wince and caught Jasper’s eye. “Where did you come from?”
He stared at me, the anger now drained from his face and replaced with worry. “I finished up the mending that one costume needed and figured I’d walk over to help carry the food. Glad I did. Those were Sheeran’s guys? I thought—”
“We obviously weren’t convincing enough,” Rafael snarled, and then shook himself. “Thank you for jumping in. You didn’t need to do that. It helped.”
“I wasn’t going to juststandthere.” Jasper shifted his attention back to me. “You said they hurt your ribs?”
