I slap a palm to the bar. Godammit.
Rowdy male voices pierce the din of the room, drawing my attention back to Jess. She’s serving a table of five guys, all drunk and eyeing her like she’s a bit of meat and they’re starving dogs. I clench my jaw and curl my hand into a fist. I don’t care that I’ve just been looking at her the same way. They have no right, they don’t even know her. Not that I do, but still….
That’s another puzzle. Why is a thief working at a pub for crappy tips and putting up with this shit? I can only figure she’s got something big planned. Why else would she be hanging around in London with her stepfather’s money?
One of the men makes a grab for her and I nearly jump off the bar stool but she sidesteps him and says something to him. I grin at his affronted face as his friends laugh. Clearly Jess is more than a coy smile and hot body. She’s got balls too.
But as she turns away, the guy lunges for her. He’s big—bordering on overweight—and he hauls her back easily by her wrist. I don’t wait around. I’m on my feet and at her side by the time he’s tugged her into him. He has his hands wrapped around her, pinning her arms to the side as he tries to turn her around to face him. Jess fights him but she’s no match for his thick arms. I don’t even think about it. My skin is warm, my heart pounding. I want to tear the guy’s face off. Each breath comes hot and heavy. I grab Jess’s shoulder at the same time as I plough a fist into the man’s face. Something crunches and pain jars through my knuckles.
Jess stumbles into me and I shove her back as the guy reels from my punch. Clutching a bloody nose, he rights himself and his friends are on their feet, vying for a fight.
Before they get the chance, several bouncers step in. The guy with the mashed nose says something about Jess being a whore and rage pounds through me again. Jess tries to tug me away.
“Leave it. Please!”
I can’t help it. I shove through the two men blocking my way and lunge for the blond guy again, shoving him to the ground and knocking over a bar chair and several glasses at the same time. Blondie struggles against me and probably gets in a few hits but I don’t notice them. I smash a fist into his cheek, then his gut until someone much larger than me pulls me off and drags me away.
I fight the security guard but the sight of the blond guy curled up on the floor cools my anger a little and I let the bouncer drag me outside. He releases me and shoves me back from the bar door.
“Stay out, do you hear?” he says, eyeing me to see if I’ll make a move.
“Sure.” I put a hand to my head and feel stickiness, telling me I’ve cut myself somehow. “Just let me—”
Jess shoves past the bouncer. Her eyes are wide and she props her hands on her hips. “What the hell did you think you were doing?”
Well this is unexpected. I thought she’d be grateful to me, not pissed. “Saving your backside I thought.”
“I don’t need you to save my backside. I definitely don’t need you to start beating up customers!”
I shake my head and turn away. Screw this. This woman is messing with my head too much. I do not need this shit. I don’t get angry often. Rarely, in fact, and I don’t fight. The job means I have to stay fit but as exciting as being an investigator sounds, I don’t get myself into trouble.
“Fuck’s sake, Hunter, are you trying to make me lose my job?”
I whirl around, heart pounding. “How can you just let those guys behave like that?”
Her jaw tenses. “I don’t enjoy it, but it happens. It’s just part of the job.”
“It’s fucking sexual harassment, that’s what it is. Don’t you have any respect for yourself?”
Jess’s expression shutters and her eyes go suddenly cold. She folds her arms across her chest. “I have plenty of respect for myself, thank you very much. I don’t enjoy the attention, if that’s what you think.”
“I could damn well tell you weren’t en—”
“But this is my job and you are… you’re no one. What gives you the right to come barrelling in, behaving like a Neanderthal?”
She’s right. I am no one to her. What right do I have to get angry over some guy touching her? I curl my hand into a fist. Just because I’m trying to find a way into her life, it doesn’t give me any rights over her. In my mind, I see that asshole’s hands everywhere. Stroking her beautiful skin, her thighs, her breasts.
I’ve been following her for too long, that’s it. She’s fucking with my head. I’ve spent so long just watching her that I feel like I have some kind of say in her life. Damn, I need to get out of here. I debate her, noting the rapid rise and fall of her chest and the lifted chin. My body tenses. There’s something about her all fired and up and angry that is a hell of a turn on.