But, as my mama always used to say, I contain multitudes.
“Here, let me give it a shot.” I duck down to pick up the end of the jack that he let fall beside him. Then I glance up at his worried expression, trying not to feel too offended by his doubt. He’s from another generation, clearly. “If I mess up your car, I’ll call the tow truck myself, all right?”
He laughs. “Well, if you’re that confident, miss… you’ve got a deal.” He backs up, then, and I get to work.
It’s easy enough to jack his car up to the right height, and I’m lucky he has a wrench in his trunk. I get to removing the lug nuts that suspend his tire, and he watches, his eyebrows climbing higher every second.
“Not often these days you find any kids your age able to do this,” he comments. “Much less… well.”
I shoot him an amused glance over my shoulder. “Much less a girl dressed like this?” I ask, arching one perfectly brushed eyebrow.
He grins. “Apologies for doubting you, miss.”
“Cassidy,” I reply. “And there’s no need to apologize. Just give a girl the benefit of the doubt next time. My dad taught me how to do this before he’d let me apply for my driver’s license. Said it was a necessary life skill.”
“That’s me schooled,” the man promises. “Lee, by the way. And thank you. Your father taught you well,” he adds, watching me work.
I step around his trunk to reach for the donut, when I feel a hand on my shoulder. Expecting it to be Lee, I glance back. Then I freeze, my eyes going wide.
There’s an unfamiliar guy standing behind me. Two, in fact, both a head taller than I am, and dressed in dark clothes. I look around, startled, and realize the second guy is already holding Lee by one arm, his fingers digging into the poor man’s bicep hard enough to be visible from here.
“Hey, leave him alone,” I say, at the same time that Lee blurts out, “Let the girl be.”
Lee and I trade a long glance, while our taller assailant sneers. “Wallet. Phone.” He looks me over. “And, well, if you aren’t quick about it…”
I shudder, not liking the way his gaze lingers. But I’m also not about to give up without a fight. I’m still holding Lee’s wrench, after all, and we’re not ten feet from the club door. Never mind that this guy has almost a head on me, or the fact that he’s got backup.
“Excuse you?” I demand, advancing. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Messing with a defenseless old man?” As I move, I shift my body weight so the wrench in my fist is concealed behind my torso. Then I settle into a defensive stance, knees bent, ready to move quickly in either direction.
My dad taught me this, too.
The man doesn’t move. Over his shoulder, I spot Lee, his eyes going wide. He shakes his head, but I ignore him. “Wallet and phone,” the man says. “I won’t ask again.” He holds out a hand.
That’s when I strike. I swing the wrench as hard as I can at his wrist. There’s a sickening crack as it hits bone, and the man curses. The guy behind him throws Lee to the ground, about to sprint at me too, but I’m already backing off, screaming for help.
The man I struck is cradling his wrist, but when he looks up at me now, there’s no more disdain or lingering desire in his gaze. There’s only white hot fury. “You’ll pay for that,” he swears, advancing on me.
Then, out of nowhere, a blur collides with him.
All I see are fists, and all I can hear are grunts. At first, I wonder if Lee has miraculously sprung up off the ground to perform some jiu-jitsu worthy of a guy half his age. But no. One glance shows me he’s still sprawled on the pavement, his forehead crumpled in pain.
As for the two attackers, they’re both busy defending themselves from another guy, a blur of a man who stands at least as tall as they do. I catch a glimpse of the newcomer landing a solid hit to one attacker’s jaw, then wrenching the other’s arm around his back in the same motion, using the man’s momentum against him to flip him ass over head onto pavement.
I sidestep the brawl and kneel beside Lee. “Are you all right?” I ask in a low undertone.
He huffs at me. “Please, I’ve certainly had worse. But you … You’re supposed to just give men like this what they demand. It’s dangerous to fight.”
“Believe me.” I offer Lee a hand, and he lets me help him back to his feet. “I’ve learned the hard way. Sometimes it’s every bit as dangerous to give them an inch, because they’ll just take a mile.”
Lee huffs again, but to judge by the shrewd look in his eye, he’s not about to contradict me.
Another grunt interrupts us, and we turn to find both the attackers laid out on the pavement. Standing over them, blood dusting his knuckles, is quite frankly, the hottest man I’ve ever seen.
It’s not just the fact that he’s glistening with sweat from fighting off a pair of assholes who would have robbed me—or worse. Although the small cut on his cheek and bruise forming beneath it do serve to highlight exactly how sharp his cheekbones are, how square his jaw is.
But mostly, it’s the fact that he looks like he’d be perfectly at home on the cover of some sporting magazine, advertising the team he plays for, or something. He’s muscular, but not overly built. Just… solid.
Solid enough that he laid out two guys almost the same size as him in no time at all.
Beside me, Lee starts to clap. After a split second, I grin and join in. Our rescuer turns, and my breath catches in my throat.
Fuck. Not only does he have those cheekbones, that jawline, that build, but he’s also got unreal eyes. Green, with a twinkle from the reflection of the streetlight overhead. “Are you all right?” he asks, and I assume he’s speaking to us both, but he’s staring straight at me.
“We are now,” Lee replies, with a glance in my direction. “Although, I have to admit, Cassidy might have had them cornered, given another minute.”
“I noticed.” His gaze still hasn’t left mine. I can’t make myself look away. I don’t want to. “One tip, though?” He gestures at my arm, and I glance down, surprised to realize that I’m still clenching the wrench in my fist. “Next time, aim for the temple, instead of the hand. If you’d incapacitated him completely, it would’ve narrowed your odds with the second man.”
I let out a faint huff of laughter. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind next time I’m being mugged.” With that, I pass the wrench to Lee, and run my hand through my hair. “Shit. Should we—”
“I called the cops already,” the man says. He glances from me to Lee to the car in the lot behind us. “Roadside assistance, as well.”
“That I had handled,” I protest, but Lee is already nudging me toward our rescuer.
“Go, go. The last thing I need is you getting into even more trouble on my behalf,” Lee is saying.
By this point, I realize we’ve attracted something of a crowd. A few camera phones are pointed our way, and someone from the club—another bouncer to replace the one Becky took off with—comes over, saying he has basic medical training. He kneels beside our would-be robbers to check their pulses, nodding to confirm they’ll be all right, minus the scrapes and bruises.