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1
LANE
“Leave me alone!”
Hearing the panic in her voice gets me out of my chair in a hurry. Grabbing the remote, I cut the volume on the game and dart over to the front windows. Down below me in the courtyard is Lanie Fleming pressed up against the wall of the gazebo as a short, squatty man looms over her. The look of terror on her face gets my heart pumping, fills my veins with the heat of my fury, and immediately sets me in motion.
Motherfucker.
I tear across the room and fling open the front door and dash across the courtyard, my stomach churning, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end, and a fire burning low in my gut. Up ahead of me, I see the man standing in front of Lanie and watch as she recoils, trying to keep some distance between them.
“Hey!” I call.
The tick-tick-tick of my Great Dane’s nails on the concrete reminds me that I didn’t close the door behind me when I ran out. When I step into the gazebo, I see the man swaying on his feet, obviously either drunk or high. Lanie is backed into a corner and is so terrified, she doesn’t even seem to notice me walking up.
“You don’t have to be such a bitch about it,” he slurs. “What’s the big deal? It’s just a fuckin’ blow job. It’s not like I’m askin’—”
Daisy, my dog, steps into the gazebo and lets out a low growl that draws their attention. Lanie looks over at me and her face flushes with relief. The man, a stranger to me, turns around. His eyes are narrowed and bleary, and he’s got a sloppy smile on his face. But then he looks down and sees Daisy with her hackles raised and lips curled back as she growls, and his smile instantly slips and he takes a step back. The size of my dog definitely helps sober people up pretty quickly.
“Is there a problem here?” I ask.
“Nah, man. No problem,” the guy slurs. “I’m Betsy’s guest, man, and I was just tryin’ to have a conversation with—her.”
I give him a disgusted snort and shake my head. He’s such a disgusting little twerp, it only figures that he’s one of Betsy’s crew. Betsy is Lanie's mom and she's a drunk. She also smokes a lot of weed, does coke when she has the money, and hosts loud, obnoxious parties full of kids half her age… mostly because they supply her with booze and drugs, and most of them will fuck anything that moves, so it’s a win all the way around for her.
Betsy is trash and I’ve had to threaten her with eviction a couple of times if she doesn’t keep her parties down. I haven’t pulled the trigger only because of Lanie. The thought of her being out on the street because of her mom makes me sick. To her minor credit, Betsy has been doing a better job of keeping her parties to a low roar that’s tolerable. Mostly. But this… seeing Lanie terrified because of one of Betsy’s boys has lit a fire in my gut.
“Her name is Lanie, man.”
“I know that. I know her name is Lara—”
“Lanie,” I correct him. “And you should probably get out of here.”
The man puffs up his chest and squares up to me, putting a tough look on his face. It’s comical and I can’t keep myself from laughing. My six-four, two-hundred-and-fifty-pound frame dwarfs this idiot. I mean, he’s giving up seven inches and although he’s probably only about twenty pounds lighter, thanks to my workout regimen, I’m muscle from head to toe. He’s not.
“Who the fuck do you think you are, pal?” he sneers.
“I’m the guy who owns this building,” I reply, clenching my fists and standing taller, showing him just how pathetic he looks beside me. “I’m also the guy who’s going to beat you to a bloody fucking pulp if you don’t get away from Lanie. And after I’m done with you, I’m going to let Daisy have a turn.”
His eyes dart from me down to Daisy then back again. His lips quiver and I see the fear in his eyes, but I can also see that stubborn glint as well. He doesn’t want to lose face.
Truthfully, I don’t want to beat this clown’s ass. I can. But I don’t want to. Mostly because he’s no match for me. It won’t be a fair fight because he looks exactly like he is—a fucking loser. But if this clown doesn’t get the fuck away from Lanie, I will be glad to deliver a beating worse than anything he could ever imagine. Lanie’s mine. Period.
“Fuck you, man,” he says, though without much conviction.
“Whatever you say. Just say it somewhere else,” I tell him. “Now, get the fuck out of here and I don’t ever want to see you on my property again.”
Glowering at me, he takes a step back and gives Daisy a wide berth as he starts to walk out of the gazebo. Just before he gets to the doorway I give him a parting shot. “If I ever see you around here bothering Lanie again, you won’t like what happens. I guarantee it. Don’t even think about her again. You got me?”
He doesn’t say anything as he tucks tail and walks briskly through the courtyard and out of the complex altogether. Once he’s gone, Daisy pads over to Lanie and licks her face. I watch as Lanie gives my dog some well-earned scratches behind the ear that only gets Daisy’s heavy tail whipping side-to-side vigorously. That thick, powerful tail has entirely cleared off the top of a coffee table before, so I stand back and admire Lanie instead of moving closer to them.
Five foot four and all of about a hundred pounds soaking wet, Lanie is a petite girl. Her hair is as black as pitch which provides a stark contrast to her cool, pale skin and makes her cornflower-blue eyes pop. She’s slender yet still has ample, incredibly feminine curves and my eyes travel up the swell of her hips to that of her round, full breasts and along her long, slender neck. Just standing here staring at her like a goddamn idiot.
“Thank you for getting that guy away from me,” Lanie says.
“Who is he?” I ask. “I’ve got a friend with PD who can—”
“I don’t know. Just another one of my mom’s dope buddies,” she shrugs. “She’s got some people over and I just needed to get out of the house for a bit.”
