Page 16 of His Haunted Desire
“You’re with Goliath, harassing the people of this town,” I state, because why else would they be looking through Aurora's trash looking for “dirt”? “And I’m telling you to back off. Now.”
I know I’ve got it right as they exchange a look, laughing at my expense. They think just because I’m not visibly scared, they can beat me, but I’m as big as they are. They can’t bully me. This just makes them approach me cautiously.
“Think it’s time you turned around and minded your own business, tough guy.”
“How about I feed you your friend’s teeth instead?”
The scar-faced one rushes me. I don’t know if he’s trying to punch me or just shove me, but I’m not going to let either happen. Once a man moves like this, the fight has started.
I catch his arm so that he stumbles into the alleyway wall, then backhand the other across the jaw. They turn to me, red-faced, eyes flooded with fury, but no longer in the mood to fight.
“Time to leave, gentlemen,” I say, not even winded by our little tussle.
They don’t think about it twice and scurry away like the rats they are. I watch as they run, still seething. I almost want the fight to keep going. I almost want them to return with backup.
“Bastards,” I growl, walking back to my car.
Aurora stands at the entrance to the alley, gazing at me with a shocked expression. She looks adorable with her eyebrows raised and her mouth open. She’d probably slap me if I told her that.
“What was that about?” she asks.
“Two wannabe tough guys were sifting through your trash.”
“Grandma says they’ve done that before.”
“They’re scum,” I snarl, walking to my car.
“Why did you do that?” she said.
For someone who seemingly wants nothing to do with me, she’s got a lot of questions. I don’t turn, but I can see her in the reflection of my car window. “I hate when people or corporations think they can throw their money around and bully people into submission.”
Even in the unclear reflection, I can see her instinctive response. She thinks I’m just like them.
“Goodbye, Aurora,” I call over my shoulder as I open my car door.
“Wait,” she says.
“What now?”
“Can I have the business card? Just in case.”
I take it out of my pocket and drop it on the ground. “Sure.”
“Jerk!” she screeches. “Why did you do that?”
“You just answered your own question.” I climb into the car. “I’m a jerk.”
Her opinion should mean nothing to me, but it takes me a few minutes to shake the shadow of her judgment. I’m pumped full of adrenaline from the fight and from her hot-and-cold attitude.
She’s not going to call me. That’s fine. I need to forget about her and find someone else to make Grandma believe I’ve been shot with a Cupid’s arrow.
As I drive through the rainy town, I get a text from my cousin.
Julian:Sebastian has saved our asses. We’re good to go.
I call my cousin and put him on speaker. “How has the butler saved us? What the hell are you talking about?”
“Shit, Raiden. Who pissed in your cereal?”
