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That appraising glance pissed me off. Who the fuck did he think he was?
One big guy had muscled his way between the two of us. A real bruiser. My neck prickled unpleasantly. I edged the interloper firmly out of the way, reclaiming my place near Kat and earning myself a dirty look in the process.
I abruptly decided to accompany her down to the lobby. Maybe even tell my crew to give her a ride home. Though she was sure to refuse.
My hands clenched angrily, closing on nothing.
CHAPTER4
Kat
Iignored the crowd of guys in the elevator, my mind completely taken up with wondering what the hell had gotten into me. What the hell was that, anyway? Coming on to a complete stranger with half a mind to take him home for an afternoon’s mindless physical enjoyment? Whoa. It was a crazy idea. Though it would definitely soothe my nerves after the shock of Hugh Clemens’ humiliating rant.
Sex. Sure. Why not. Who could resist me, the seductive hellcat with all the hot, sexy moves?
Ethan Masters, that’s who. Of course, he’d be married, engaged, whatever. At least he was principled and honest about it. I granted him three measly points for that, exactly three, and then immediately took away two of them for indiscriminate flirting. That bad, slutty bastard.
I was so busy stressing about Ethan, there was a short, distracted delay before I started to put my finger on the many things that were wrong with this picture. My attention was fragmented by his nearness. But the mechanism kicked in eventually.
When the elevator shuddered to a grinding stop once again, it hit me, all at once.
A cold, dark hole opened up inside me. Those guys. The other passengers. Too uniformly similar. All big and bulky, all about the same age, all men.
And after a first, cursory glance, none of them had looked at me at all.
No fucking way.
Men usually did. That was just how it was, which was why I usually went around in jeans and a hooded sweatshirt. But these guys weren’t looking at me. Not a single one of them was. And a charge was building in the air. I felt that invisible pressure gauge right on my skin, nudging up, up, up.
That murdering slimebag Tony Petruzzi had found me at last. Or his father had, or his brothers, since he was still supposed to be in jail. Maybe some photos had slipped through onto social media after our last championship tournament, and made their way back to the Petruzzis somehow.
I should have been more careful not have the girls win so often. I should have made sure they didn’t draw too much attention to themselves, and by reflex, to me.
Problem was, they rocked. And it was so good for their self-esteem.
Ego. It’ll bite you in the ass every time. I scolded myself for it inwardly as I whipped off the shoulder strap of my purse, psyching myself up for what was coming.
Bring them on. I’d been training for over half my life for this, after all. It had to happen sometime. In some ways, it would be a relief to get it the fuck over with.
I’d go after those grunting bastards like a screaming harpy from hell, and either I’d win, or they’d kill me. And it would finally be over.
But I was truly sorry Ethan had gotten mixed up in my bad karma. That was a massive bummer. I would try like hell to protect him, but I was up against a flipping crap-ton of giant thugs, who probably had plenty of training of their own. I was good, yes. Very good. But nobody was that good.
I flexed my hands, softened my knees, breathed very deep, getting into that still place. Warrior zone. I tried to catch Ethan’s eye to give him a heads-up, but he was frowning off into infinity, right over the other guys’ heads. Being taller than all of them.
I let the coat and purse drop to the floor just as I caught the movement reflected in the shiny elevator wall. A black cylinder, slowly emerging from the sleeve of the guy next to Ethan. A shock baton. Seriously? Fuck them all.
I yelled as the baton flashed up, and exploded into violent movement.
A swift, mindless sequence;chop, at the arm with the baton, a punch to the face, a swerve to evade the other guy coming at me—
A blur, then a loud, wetcrunch. Ethan had smashed the guy’s head against the wall. A splotch of blood marked the big dent in the metal wall as he slid down. Then Ethan jerked back, seized the foot whipping up toward his face. Twist, flip, an elbow to the head, then a vicious kick to the side of the guy’s knee. Wow.
I didn’t have time to admire his form, since I was blocking the blackjack flashing down. Ethan’s savage uppercut knocked the guy back, pinwheeling. I dodged a roundhouse swing from a big gorilla arm, but it still snapped across the end of my nose. I just barely blocked the knee to my gut.Oof,the man’s bulk slammed me to the wall, knocking the breath right out of my lungs.
A heavy thud, a grunt, and the pressure abruptly eased. The guy gasped, clawing at his throat and gurgling as Ethan launched him into the onslaught of the other three men. Who knew. Ethan was a total ass-kicking berserker maniac.Yes.
Now we were fighting back-to-back, covering each other, as if we’d trained together for years. When I caught his eye, every glance was loaded with wordless data that could only be decoded by a body in violent motion.
