Page 73 of Fish out of Water
The Grant who rushed me away from an attacking mother swan.
Which meant I needed to be ready to run.
I slowly lifted one foot just enough that I could reach the ankle strap of my stiletto. I slid it off with one finger, catching the shoe as it dropped free.
“That’s not how this works and you know it.” The unfamiliar voice was a little closer now. “If you want to see your uncle again then you need to give us the fucking money.”
“I think we both know what will happen if Vito gets hurt.” The almost amused tone of Grant’s voice nearly made me fumble my other shoe. “And I’m sure you don’t want to deal with that.”
“Are you threatening us with your mommy?” The man snorted. “She’s not here to do shit to help you now, is she?”
“If she was then this would already be over.” Grant’s head tipped. “But it looks like right now you’re stuck with me.”
“Not only you.” A set of squinty eyes and a greasy smile tipped into view. “You’ve got a pretty hot commodity with you.” His gaze skimmed down what little of me wasn’t blocked by Grant’s body. “And we already know she’s got a sweet-smelling pussy.”
I barely had time to gasp.
Didn’t have time to blink, thank God, or I would have missed Grant’s fist connecting with the side of the man’s face, slamming the leer right off it.
But Grant didn’t stop at one hit.
A second later he had the jerk by the front of his jacket, lifting his feet off the floor and slamming his body into the side wall hard enough to knock a dent in the plaster. He yanked him away only to slam him again.
I couldn’t look away from the man I thought I sort of knew as he beat the shit out of the weasel who stole my underwear.
This was making me question everything. In good ways and in bad.
Grant started to pull the man from the wall again. As he pulled back the second man from the mailroom lunged Grant’s way, the smooth surface of a blade reflecting in the overhead light.
My heart stopped and my brain shorted out.
I didn’t think. Couldn’t have if I wanted to.
All I did was act.
And that act involved the heel of my shoe taking a visit to the eye socket of the man trying to stab Grant.
I managed to get a pretty good jab in before Grant’s hand shot out, shoving me out of the way before latching onto stabby-staberson’s throat, his fingers turning white as he squeezed tight.
Then I watched as he literally bashed the two men’s heads together and let them fall to the floor at his feet.
My eyes went from the pile of semi-conscious panty-stealers to where Grant stood in front of me, barely breathing heavy.
“Are you okay?” His hands were gentle as they came to my arms, sliding down my skin as he looked me over. “He didn’t get you did he?”
“You just—”
“Oh.” Michael, the maître d’, skidded to a stop in front of the open door, his mouth sagging as he stared into the closet. He recovered shockingly fast, his polished poise returning in an instant. “I’m so sorry for this inconvenience, Mr. Servantes.”
Inconvenience?
This was an inconvenience?
Grant adjusted the watch on his wrist before slicking one hand through his hair. “It’s not a problem.”
Michael stepped back as two large waiters stepped in, grabbing the men lying on the ground by their hands. Grant pulled me close as they dragged them out of our way.
“Hang on.” I hopped on one foot, trying to get my toes into the front of my shoe. I barely had my big toe hooked when Grant scooped me up cradle-carry style and stepped over the body of the man I’d jabbed in the eyeball.
