I blinked at him. He thought that made perfect sense. They’d done me wrong, so they deserved to die. It was so black-and-white for him. “Why?”
“I told you why.” He scratched the back of his head and glanced over his shoulder impatiently. “They were hurting you.”
“But why do you care? Something tells me you don’t normally jump into fights that aren’t yours,” I said.
“How would you know?”
“I heard him say your name. I know you’re in the Sons of Steel Row,” I said, not needing to explain further. “Why did you help me?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. Averting his gaze, he dropped his arm back at his side. “Does it matter? Would you have rather I ignored it and let them attack you?”
“Of course not,” I whispered.
“Then let’s go.” He tipped his head. “Up there. My place.”
I blinked at the mechanic shop. “You live where you work?”
“Above it.” His thumb brushed over my knuckles. “You need to come up with me. He’ll be back with others, and I want you outta sight.”
“I’ll be—”
“Now, Heidi.”
He pulled me behind him, ignoring me completely. I could argue, but I didn’t really see the point. If he wanted to play knight in shining armor, then I could let him. For tonight, anyway. I was fine, now that I’d gotten over my initial shock, but he seemed to be worried, which was . . . sweet. Really freaking sweet.
And unexpected for a ruthless killer.
I snorted internally. The dude had just killed two guys in front of me, and I was thinking how sweet he was? What kind of crazy juice had I gotten into?
He unlocked his door and held it open for me. I peeked inside at the unlit staircase, swallowing past the fear that remained lodged in my throat. After what had happened earlier, I needed light to chase away the shadows. Lots of it.
As if he could hear my thoughts, he switched on the hallway light. “Go on in.”
I fisted my hands and climbed the stairs. “You don’t have to do this. I’m fine, I swear. I’ve handled worse than that on my own before.”
“That’s not right. From what I saw, that was pretty fucked-up. Someone like you—you should never have to deal with that, let alone anything worse. Ever.” He followed me up the stairs. “And you really shouldn’t try to take on three guys at once.”
“Thanks for the tip,” I said, stopping at the second door, which stood at the top of the stairs. It was dark blue, like the walls. “Next time I’ll politely request they come at me one at a time, as good guys should.”
He stopped directly behind me, his hard chest brushing my back. Despite everything I’d been through, I was all too aware of his very being. “There won’t be a next time.”
Annoyance crept up my spine. “What should I have done? Cowered in the corner? Begged for my freedom? My virtue? My life?”
“I don’t know.” He flexed his jaw. “All I know is one girl against three men is not a fight you can possibly win.”
“But I can try,” I argued. “What would you have done if it was you?”
He opened the door, turned the light on, and gestured me inside. “The same damn thing I did when it wasn’t.”
“Exactly,” I said, rubbing my arms and glancing around. He had a couch, a coffee table, a TV, and a table. That’s it. But it was clean. Really clean. I’d expected it to be messy. Not a single thing looked out of place. “So why expect anything different from me?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he walked into the kitchen and washed his hands. I followed him, watching the water turn pink from all the blood he washed off. When he was finished, he dried off and then turned to me. The force of his stare made my heart quicken. A silent communication happened between us. Despite his notorious name and his past, he couldn’t stand seeing me get hurt, and no matter what he said, that meant something. He might not think of himself as a hero, but he’d been heroic tonight.
He stepped closer and skimmed his hands down my arms. I shivered but held my ground. “What are you doing?”
“Checking for injuries,” he murmured. His low voice did weird things to my body. “You could be in shock and might not feel the pain.”
I forced back a groan. He might be trying to help, but he was killing me with those light touches of his. He was also making me feel like I mattered to him, but men like him didn’t care about other people. “I’m okay.”
And I was now. Especially here, with him.
“I’ll decide that for myself.” He clutched my hands. “Squeeze my fingers.” I squeezed. “Good.” Kneeling at my feet, he gently ran his hands over my legs, steering clear of my inner thighs. I had shorts on, so his fingers never touched my skin up there, but I could feel his heat straight through the denim. “Everything looks good.”
“That’s because it is.” I cleared my throat. “Your turn.”
He glanced up at me, brows raised. “For what?”
“Care.” I pointed at the couch. “Sit.”
His lips twitched. “Yes, ma’am.” He stood and walked over to the sofa, glancing over his shoulder at me as he went. “I’m fine, though.”
“You’re less fine than I am. Do you have a first-aid kit?”