“W-w-why should I? Because you’re bigger and meaner than me?” she cried, more scared now than she’d been before. “No! I just want to g-g-go home. Don’t hurt me, too!”
And he was on her. Like an inky shadow, he captured her and blocked her view of the streetlights, the entire street, and most of the sky. Ashley squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t dare breathe. Couldn’t think, her heart was pounding so hard. The power of the gods radiated off this man in black, in hair-raising, frightening mega-gigawatts. He was one with the night, a true jungle predator out for a kill, one who could rip her apart, lap at her entrails, and kick dirt over her carcass when he’d finished making a meal of her.
What a horrible, awful night. Tucking her chin to her chest, Ashley instinctively made herself smaller. She curled into a ball, her arms over her head, and her knees tucked up tightly into her belly, shielding her more tender body parts. Like prey, she was caught with no way to escape. All she could do was try to survive. She flinched at what might happen next. She was a stupid, stupid gazelle and he was a predator.
All the men in her life had been loud-mouthed, belligerent users of women, mean and cruel when it served their purposes. This guy was no different. He’d just proven that in spades. Had he saved her for something worse than death? Was this a power struggle or a rescue? Her poor heart couldn’t tell.
Until a band of steel curled under her knees and lifted her carefully off the cold ground. Until the monster who’d come to her aid, cradled her ever so gently against his fiercely beating heart. It, err, he whispered into the top of her shivering, sweaty head, “Hey, there. I’m sorry I scared you, but I’ve got you now, and he can’t hurt you anymore. You’re safe now, ma’am. Please don’t cry.”
“I’m not! B-b-but…” She was. Ashley blubbered, not sure of anything other than she was on the verge of wetting her pants and screaming hysterically for him to put her down. At least he’d removed his bloody gloves and tossed them aside. That was thoughtful. But his big hands still had a firm hold on her. She was still caught.
“Shush,” he murmured softly, unzipping his leather jacket and tucking her inside like a little girl. Not that she wasn’t already wearing her own jacket, but hers was lightweight, and his was so warm and big. And man, the scent pouring out of his jacket smelled decadently of wind, leather, and testosterone, precisely the scents she seemed to need in her nose right then. They calmed her. Helped her to think and process logical, sensible thoughts. Her nostrils flared, and she was surprised her nose still worked while gushing blood. That inhaling could still feel semi-pleasurable. The unique fragrance wafting off this guy would forevermore remind her of what true masculine strength was. Even as hot tears rolled over her cheeks.
“I promise, ma’am. That guy won’t bother you again,” her monster guardian angel said as a big, rough hand curved around her head and cupped her jaw.
Like a hapless idiot, Ashley leaned into that palm, her heart still pounding out of control even as she considered the fact that this guy had saved her life. That he was so much larger, thicker, and heavier than she was. He was made of steel and coiled bands of titanium muscle. And she was bleeding all over him.
“Is he… is he still alive?” she whimpered, desperate for a tissue—or ten.
“Do you care?” Incredulity colored that terse question. “After what he did to you?”
“Well, err…” Kind of. “Yes, I mean…” How could she not care about an obviously drug-addicted young man? And how could anyone survive the beating this guy had dished out? The kid hadn’t hit back. Not once. He hadn’t had the chance. He wasn’t big enough to take on this man, and he surely hadn’t the skills. Yet he’d certainly had no trouble slapping her around, punching her, and—
“Yes, he’s alive, but he can’t hurt you now. Focus on that. Breathe in. Breathe out. You’re safe, and I’m going to take care of you.” His voice was a seductive rumble, a masculine purr she wanted to snuggle into. Whoever this man was, he was a safe place. A big, warm safe place that seemed able to read her mind.
Trying desperately to regain a professional sense of decorum, Ashley swiped the back of her hand under her bloody, snotty nose and again wished for a tissue.
Instantly, a travel-sized package of them appeared, courtesy of this man’s deep pockets. He punched his thumbnail into the top perforation and tugged several tissues out. “Here,” he said quietly, her less important wish granted and perched at the end of his fingertips. “Use all you need. I’ve got more.”
“Th-thank you,” she whispered. Taking the offering, Ashley blew her poor, tender nose like a lady, then tucked the disgusting, crumpled tissues into her pocket.
“No problem. I’m here for you. Promise.”
Risking a covert glance through her spikey, wet eyelashes, she prepared to be brave and look her rescuer in the eye. D-d-darn. That was a long way up. But so worth the effort.
This was no boy come to her rescue. Uh-uh. This guy was all male. Thick-boned and heavily muscled, like a workhorse. Camouflage tones painted a square jaw. The black and green stripes on his cheeks made his nose appear as sharp as a blade. Thick brows shadowed his blackened eyes. She’d never recognize him without the greasepaint. He was hiding, too.
But nothing could conceal the sparkle hidden deep in those eyes. There was no regret in them for what he’d done; no worry or fear of reprisal or of being caught, either. Only brash, in-your-face confidence. It oozed out of him, scenting the air around her with overwhelming, deep, dark,
