Page 2 of Flint's Battle

Bowie grabbed Flint’s arm, motioning toward the woman. “Easy buddy. Let Emery try to diffuse the situation before we go charging in.”

Flint snorted. “Have you seen how she handles men like that? She’s more likely to throat punch the guy than escort him calmly to the door. But you have a point. She’s more than capable of handling herself.”

Though, if the asshole tried to get physical, Flint wouldn’t stay on the sidelines.

Emery stopped and said something to the waitress, holding her ground once the server had returned to the bar. She glanced at the door, then back over to the creep. “I’ll give you one chanceto get your ass out of that chair and out the door before I do it for you.”

The bastard gave her a thorough once-over then stood, towering over Emery at what had to be six-foot five. “You? You’re gonna make me leave?”

Emery shrugged. “I’d prefer it didn’t come to that, but if it’s the only option…”

He took a step, his sheer size dwarfing her. “Now that I’d like to see, baby girl.”

He reached for her, but Emery was already moving. Dodging the asshole’s massive hand then grabbing his wrist. A pivot and a twist, and she had him in an arm bar, back tipped forward, barely keeping his balance. A step and a swipe of her foot and he was down, arm locked off to one side, his body splayed out between the tables.

She leaned over him, applying enough pressure on his shoulder joint he shouted for her to stop. “I’m not your baby girl, asshole. Consider yourself banned.”

She released him, taking a step back. “Leave.”

The creep rolled to his side, cradling his arm as he stumbled to his feet, glaring at her. He didn’t move, obviously still challenging her when the four men sitting at the table behind Emery jumped up. She turned, blocking the swing the first guy aimed at her torso, only to reel back when the second caught her in the cheek.

And just like that, all of Flint’s team surged forward. Two seconds flat, and Flint was vaulting over the table, grabbing the asshole who’d hit Emery by the shirt and dropping him with a firm strike to the jaw. Someone grabbed Flint’s neck from behind, tugging him back. He managed to twist — break the guy’s hold — but Emery was already on her feet.

Two steps later, she tackled the creep to the ground, getting in an elbow to his jaw before flipping him over andpinning himwith her knee. A couple chaotic seconds of him trying to roll her off, and she had a set of zap straps cinched around his wrists — was scanning the room for her next target.

But it was over, the third guy unconscious at Bowie’s feet, while the asshole who’d started it and his fourth buddy were pinned to tables in front of Quinn and Carter. Kian, Waylen, Raider and Lane were fanned out around the scene. Arms crossed, looking less than impressed at the assholes who’d started the fight in their bar.

Emery yanked the guy beneath her to his feet, planting his ass in a chair before turning to the man who’d struck her — the one still struggling to get up from Flint’s initial strike. Flint wasn’t sure if she was going to kick the other man while he was still down or pull out her badge and read him his rights, despite the fact he was likely seeing double.

Instead, she walked over the creep who’d refused to leave — the reason the brawl had broken out — and lowered her head level to where Carter had him face down on the table, slapping her detective’s badge on the surface. “I swear to god, if I ever see you remotely close to this place, again, I’ll arrest you for assaulting an officer. All your friends, too. Now, get the hell out of here before I change my mind and toss your asses in jail.”

The guy stared at the ID, doing his best to look at her with Carter still holding him down. “You’re a cop?”

“That’s a detective’s shield, Einstein. So, just give me a reason.”

“No, ma’am.”

“Smart.” She nodded at Carter, standing there as Carter released the guy. He stood, still favoring that one arm as he grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair then made a beeline for the door, a couple of his buddies who hadn’t joined in trailing behind. The guy with the zap straps rose to his feet only to have Emery knock him back on his ass.

She moved in close. “Not you. You and your friends get the extra penalty for joining in uninvited then hitting me. So, get comfortable. You’ll be here a while.”

She pocketed her badge, dabbing at her cheek where the asshole’s strike had lacerated her skin. Not badly, but there was a line of blood across her face, the edges starting to smear down her jaw.

Flint nodded at Quinn, silently thanking the man when he cupped one hand over the creep’s shoulder, keeping his ass in the seat as Flint hooked Emery’s arm. He smiled down at her, wondering if he’d ever seen eyes that color green before. “You okay?”

She snorted, calmly brushing off her shirt. Some of her hair had pulled free from her ponytail, the ends curling around her shoulder. Gleaming like warm honey in the overhead lights. “I’ve been shot and stabbed. Trust me, I’m fine.”

He held back the growl rumbling through his chest. He didn’t like to think about her getting hurt. “You’re a hundred percent badass. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting. Come on. Kian’ll clean it up. God only knows where that asshole’s hands have been.”

Emery scrunched up her face. “Thanks for somehow making it worse.”

“I’m a giver.”

“You’re something.”

Flint grinned, palming the small of her back as he followed her to the main office. Kian appeared a few minutes later, medic bag in one hand, a bag of ice in the other.

He handed her the ice, placing his bag on the desk. “Put that on your cheek or it’s going to swell like a damn grapefruit.”

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