Page 6 of Can't Stop Watching
The second meathead tries to grab Dane from behind, but Dane drops low, flipping the guy over his shoulder like he weighs nothing. The poor bastard lands with a thud that makes me wince.
Frat Boy, proving he's got more balls than brains, takes a swing at Dane's head. Dane ducks, quick as a cat, and comes up with an uppercut that lifts Frat Boy clean off his feet.
And just like that, it's over. Three oversized frat boys sprawled on the floor, groaning, and Dane standing in the middle of it all, looking like he's barely broken a sweat.
Holy. Shit.
I'm pretty sure my mouth is hanging open, but I can't seem to close it. My brain's stuck on a loop of 'What the actual fuck just happened?'
Dane turns to me, and I swear there's a hint of a smirk on his face. "Still think you had it under control?"
I finally manage to snap my jaw shut. "Okay, first of all, that was insane. Second, where the hell did you learn to fight like that? And third... thank you."
He shrugs, like he didn't just take down three guys under ten seconds. "Marine Corps. And you're welcome."
Well, that explains... a lot, actually. But it also raises about a million more questions. Who is this guy? And why do I suddenly want to know everything about him?
When the shock wears out, it doesn't take long for a barrage of unwanted memories to hit me, then it's all I can do to keep my shit together for the rest of my shift.
3
DANE
Islip out of the bar before the cops show up. Last thing I need is to explain why three frat boys are nursing bruised egos and even more bruised faces. A few minutes later, I watch them leave, glad they didn't involve the authorities. Yet, those entitled pricks might come back, looking for round two. Or getting the bright idea to unload their frustration on Lila.
So I wait in my Charger, engine off, watching the bar's entrance like a hawk. The tinted windows give me cover, but I still feel exposed. Old habits die hard, I guess.
I check my watch. 12:30 AM. Fifteen more minutes of this stakeout, then I'm calling it quits. I'm not Lila's fucking bodyguard.
But even as I think it, I know I'm not going anywhere.
At 1 AM on the dot, Lila emerges from The Old Haunt. She looks tired, but alert. Good. She's watching her surroundings, not buried in her phone like most civilians.
I start the engine and pull up beside her. She jumps, hand going to her pocket. Smart girl.
"Need a ride?" I call out, rolling down the window.
Lila relaxes slightly when she sees it's me, but there's still tension in her shoulders. "What are you still doing here?"
I shrug. "Making sure those assholes didn't come back for seconds."
She hesitates, clearly torn between accepting help and maintaining her independence. I get it. Trust doesn't come easy in this city.
"Look," I say, "it's late, it's cold, and those guys might still be lurking around. Let me give you a ride home. No strings attached."
Lila shakes her head, those green eyes of hers wary as a stray cat's. "I'll just catch an Uber. Thanks, though."
Shit. I overdid it with those frat boys. Should've known better. A guy like me, built like a brick shithouse and trained to kill? Yeah, that display probably scared her more than it impressed her.
Can't blame her, really. She's what, eight years younger than me? Probably thinks I'm some psycho ex-soldier with anger issues. Which, let's be honest, isn't too far off the mark.
"Look," I try again, "I get it. Strange guy, dark alley, middle of the night. But I promise I'm not?—"
"It's fine," she cuts me off, already tapping at her phone. "My Uber's three minutes away."
I nod, knowing when to back off. "Alright. Just... stay alert, okay? This city's got teeth."
Lila gives me a look that says she knows that all too well. It hits me then… this woman's seen some shit. Maybe not the same kind I have, but pain recognizes pain.
