He glanced at the blond, who was now standing straight, fury and strength radiating off him. Even in black jogging pants and a white logo T-shirt, the man screamed badass. The inked sleeve of black and gray ink, with slashes of color running down his left arm only increased that quality.
Ella’s breath caught at the magnificent display of authority. Her reaction startled her. This guy was huge, dominant, and all kinds of pissed off—things that usually sent her anxiety through the roof. Not on him. With him, it was a breathtaking view.
The dick backed away and pointed a finger at the blond Hercules. “This isn’t over, Black.”
Wait. They knew each other? Dread curdled her gut. Hell no. This couldn’t be happening. She started backing away.
“Fuck you,” the stranger said.
“You’re the one who’s going to be fucked if you don’t watch yourself.”
Sirens sounded in the distance, and she froze.
And she’d called the cops to top it off. She closed her eyes. Great. Two days in Kansas, and she’d stepped into some kind of messed up Soprano shit. The dick let out a surprised chuckle and shook his head. “Seriously? The cops?” He pinned the blond with his eyes. “Fix it.”
Then he ran off.
“You called the cops?” The guy shoved his fingers through his hair and groaned. “Fuck.”
Well, that was a fine how-do-you-do to someone who’d put herself at risk to help. It wasn’t her fault he had himself mixed up with the wrong people. “You’re welcome…ass. All I saw was a dude getting ganged up on by three men. Fuck me for wanting to help.”
“I had it covered. How about minding your own business next time? That was between them and me.”
Mind your own business. Maybe it was advice she should adhere to; she had before. Would have been one of those people on hidden camera who, with that exact mindset, walked past people fighting, to later have John Quinones from What Would You Do? shove a microphone in her face asking her why she hadn’t helped.
Now that she’d been on the receiving end of those fists, had prayed for intervention, she couldn’t live with herself if she simply minded her own business.
The cops screeched to a halt then hurried out of the car, hands ready on their guns.
The blond immediately put up his hands in surrender—as if he’d done it before. Great, again. “There’s been a misunderstanding, officers. Some guys and I were horsing around back here. She thought I was being attacked.”
One of the officers studied her. “Is this true, ma’am?”
Ella might have wanted to help, but if this guy was involved with something bad, she was going to get the target off her back as quickly as possible.
“It was my bad. I completely misinterpreted the situation. I yelled for them to stop and they immediately did. I forgot I’d called you guys until I heard the sirens. I apologize for the inconvenience.”
Their gazes went between her and the blond before nodding. “All right. You guys have a nice day.”
As soon as they left, she started to make her way back to the sidewalk.
“Hey!” the blond man called from behind her. “What’s your name?”
Yeah. Like she had the word “idiot” stamped on her forehead. He was so not getting her name. To make that point clear, she spun around but continued walking backward, flipping him two middle fingers and an eat-shit scowl.
The grin that spread his lips caused her heart to stutter for a second. Angry, the man had been amazing, but smiling? He was potent.
Stunned at her reaction, she did an about face and quickened her steps until she was back out on the sidewalk.
Her confusing response to that man made her only more certain she didn’t want to know his name, didn’t want to know a damn thing about him or him to know anything about her. Whatever this guy’s deal was, it definitely wasn’t innocent. Last thing she needed was to get caught up in more trouble. She had enough of that already.
…
What a fucking day.
Lance pulled the wrecker into the driveway of his home. The beams from his headlights swept across the sage-sided farmhouse. As he cut the engine, he leaned his forehead against the wheel, trying to gather the energy to open the door and go inside. Man, he was dog-assed tired.
He’d been going since five this morning, and it was creeping up on three a.m. now. A twenty-two hour day. Thankfully, most of his days weren’t this long. He pushed open the door and stepped onto the gravel. Stretching, he groaned at the wonderful feeling of his muscles releasing. He’d been on three calls tonight: two broken down vehicles needing to be towed to a nearby mechanic, and one car that needed to be jimmied. Each had been an hour drive from the other.