Page 57 of Savage Outlaw

It was always people with money who thought they had the right.

Roux lifted her chin. “You’re wrong. Now I’m leaving.”

“Search her,” Verónica issued with a bored click of her tongue and waving her long nails in the air.

Now was the time to panic because she didn’t get a step toward the street before the big tough guy advanced. “Touch me, and you’ll regret it.”

The guy grinned wide and grabbed her by the shoulders with a grip so hard she winced when his fingers dug deep. When he started to tear at her jacket to get it open that’s when Roux started to struggle. Flailing with her arms, hitting him where she could.

“Get your hands off me, you cheap Dwayne Johnson knock off.”

“You are young and will learn you cannot disregard the rules. My rules especially.”

It was as though Verónica was imparting wisdom to a dumb kid who’d stolen Easter candy. Fuck her. Talking like someone’s granny, the bitch was what? 10-15 years older than her. Give a bitch a title like cartel whore and she thinks she’s queen Sheba.

Roux continued to struggle and when she heard a rip, her jacket tearing at the seams, her temper flared bright as the Olympic torch.

Her dad always said it would get her into trouble.

There was no way she was letting them take her money. She’d earned it with sheer fucking skill to outwit morons. The more she struggled, the more her jacket tore.

“Hurry it up, Rico. I’m growing bored.”

“You’re bored?” Roux hissed, trying to stare at the woman around the cement-made man manhandling her. “You’re a weak pussy,Verónica, do you know that? Can’t even do your own dirty work.”

Her lip earned her a shove into the brick wall hard enough she felt her teeth jarring. She had her dad in her head telling her to watch her mouth or else it’d get her in trouble. Hello, she was in fucking trouble. But she also heard one of his other life lessons of never back down.Always fight, kiddo.

It was at that point, Roux remembered what she always carried in the little pocket of her jeans.

For thosein casemoments.

She’d never had one until now and while she tried to untangle herself from a thug the size of King Kong, she got a finger and thumb into that pocket, touching the small flick knife. A tenth birthday gift from Chains. She thought she was so cool at the time. A knife and a new bike.

“Get the hell off me, dickhole.”

She heard stiletto heels clicking on the wet ground, “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Rico. Get itdone.”

And that’s when the thump to the side of her face came, stumbling with shock and pain that the fucker had actually hit her. Tears sprang to her eyes, not from fear but from fury. He had her jacket wrenched open now and was reaching to get the bundle of money.

Like fucking hell.

She couldn’t say how it actually happened.

Only that it did.

Only that in a second, among the tussle, struggling with all her skinny girl might—regret at not going to the gym even once—something warm poured over her hands.

Roux found it odd because of all the cold rain.

It was when her attacker staggered back, slapped a hand over the side of his neck that what happened became clear.

The sight of blood on the hilt of the knife didn’t register.

Not at first.

Until her logic started screaming, rattling the insides of her brain.

She flicked her eyes to the stunned bodyguard, holding the side of his neck until his knees gave out and he fell like a mountain on the ground. She was surprised the street didn’t shudder under his weight.

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