Page 6 of Deeper

“Not interested,” I let him know as I took a step further against the Rolls-Royce.

Skinny snarled, sizing me up once more. “Too bad.”

Did I have an attitude? No, bad energy could be returned as far as I was concerned. If they thought they were going to have their way with me, they had another thing coming.

I didn’t think before swinging and punching him square in his face.

Skinny released a scream as his hands rushed up to conceal his bleeding face. He shot me a mean look. “You bitch! I think you broke my nose.”

Brennan snickered, remaining back as he watched on.

Either Zander was an asshole, or he wasn’t in the car. Deciding on the latter, I walked around Skinny and headed for the alley to get back to Victoria.

Wet and sticky fingers curled around my arm, yanking me back before I could leave. Skinny’s bloody grasp on me was tight. Despite his build, there was strength there as malice hung in his eyes.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.

I jerked away. “Want a black eye with that nose?”

A switchblade materialized in his hand and he flipped it open. “What was that?”

Oh shit.

I froze, petrified at the sight of the weapon. My heartbeat began to speed up as goose bumps littered my skin.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t panic.

Mentally, I tried to assess the situation I was now in.

Screaming seemed like a totally stupid and redundant thing to do. Could I kick the knife out of his hand?

I tried to will my feet to move so I could get in a stance to attempt to kick Skinny’s wrist. Anything to wipe that sneer off his red-coated lips.

CLANG.

The loud snap of a door shutting drew our attention to our right.

He threw his cigarette over the railing, the reddish-orange cherry still glowing as it hit the ground. Smoke billowed from his lips as he remained standing on the first step, staring directly at us. When he spoke, there was no missing his accent. “Is there a problem?”

Of course.

Zander fucking Khalil.

2

GOOD GUY

The scruff on his golden jaw, the studded nose ring, those piercing deep dark eyes. There was no mistaking it.

Zander was here, live, and in the flesh. He was cloaked under a black hoodie with black jeans and red shoes. The hood was pulled up, obscuring his face from being seen unless you were looking at him head-on. Not quite conspicuous, but incognito enough to get the job done.

Skinny hesitated, taking a step back.

Zander began to descend the stairs, but before he could even land his foot on the second step, the back door exploded open. He didn’t even flinch as three men rushed out. One, the driver, had the car keys dangling in his hand, and the other two big beefy-looking men had to be security.

The scalpers took off back down the alley, abandoning me with the threat of authority coming their way.

One security guard, a tall light-skin man who was nothing more than a wall of muscle and ink, seized me while the other, White, bald, and void of tattoos, hung back protectively covering Zander.

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