hold, slipped between the two men and walked back to the bar. Go! Leave now! a righteous voice screamed in her head. Instead, she fished in her purse, then slapped money on the counter to keep her hands from shaking. The bartender sloshed another shot into her glass, smirking to himself. In the mirror, she noticed that Tiny and Angel were still staring each other down like two gunfighters.
Finally, Tiny backed off, walked to a booth and slid his big body behind the table, next to Ike.
Angel turned his head to look at her. She met his gaze in the mirror, her drink stilling halfway to her lips. She felt like a fly caught in amber. Even from across the room it hurt to look into those eyes. A raw, hot feeling scrambled through her and the most erotic images came to mind. Then she blinked and shrugged away the playground of her imagination. Deliberately, she finished off the tequila. It burned all the way to her empty stomach. The nuns, no doubt, were saying novenas over her debauched soul now.
She felt a man stop behind her. “Let’s go,” he said to her reflection.
“Get lost.”
His eyes narrowed. “You either walk out with me now or your parents will be identifying you from a toe tag.”
“That would be hard,” she said, facing him, “since I don’t have any.” She paused. “Parents, not toes.”
She didn’t notice his hard eyes soften a fraction as her gaze slid beyond him to Tiny and Ike. They were glaring laser beams across the room and into her face, and she tried not to let it scare her. She didn’t know if it was stupidity or nerve that kept her there, but she wanted to experience danger. Live a little on the edge. And this macho hunk in tight jeans wasn’t going to stop her. Not tonight. She’d been a good girl all her life and look what it had gotten her. A nice apartment, even nicer friends and coworkers. And absolute, suffocating, boredom. At least this got her adrenaline running.
She looked back at Angel. “Who made you my protector?”
“Unfortunate timing.” He ought to let her suffer with Tiny and Ike, but he couldn’t. It meant her survival that he get her out of here. He took a step closer and she flattened her back against the bar, her elbows propped on the top. She gave him a bored look he didn’t believe.
“You want me to come, with you?”
His gaze slid suggestively over her and his chiseled lips quirked. “I haven’t touched you yet.” She inhaled, her gaze faltering, and he slipped closer, slapping his hands on either side of her and leaning down into her face. “And yes, I want you to leave with me.”
“No way.” He could be an ax murderer for all she knew. Though some inner voice doubted it. Of course, that inner voice had told her this place would be tame.
He gazed into her blue eyes and felt the entire bar watching them. “Are you that willing to die, lady?”
She scoffed. “You’re exaggerating.”
“Look at Tiny.”
She did. A switchblade lay on the table, Tiny’s stubby fingers spinning it, yet his gaze was on her. Pride made her lift her chin, glance back to the bartender and order another drink.
Angel’s expression sharpened and before she reached for the fresh glass, he grabbed her hand, ducked and tossed her up across his shoulder.
She shrieked.
The club rumbled with low amusement, as if this occurred every night. Angel clamped a hand familiarly on her upper thigh, grabbed her purse and strode to the door, kicking it open and leaving The Rusty Nail. She fought him every step, wiggling and pounding his back, pushing up and doing everything she could to get free. But Angel just kept walking, a slow saunter. His long stride pounded the breath from her lungs.
“Help! Kidnapping!”
“Shut up.” His tone was infinitely calm.
“Rape!”
“I’ve had sex in a lot of ways, baby, but this is next to impossible.”
The gravel of the parking lot crunched beneath his boots and he kept walking.
“You son of a bitch!”
“That’s likely.”
He stopped and hoisted her off his shoulder, letting his hands smooth provocatively over her thighs and buttocks as he lowered her to her feet.
Calh stumbled on the uneven ground, red-faced with outrage as she drew back her arm. She slapped him, hard. He didn’t flinch, didn’t blink as her handprint blossomed on his face, and Calli realized he’d allowed her to do it.
“Happy?”
“No.”
Without taking his gaze from her, he opened her purse and rummaged for a key. She gasped, trying to take it back, but he held it out of her reach.
“Behave,” he warned, her hotel and car keys in his hand. He tossed the purse at her chest and she caught it.
“Give those to me.”
He didn’t, and moved beside her, hunching down to unlock the car door. His face was inches from hers. “Get in.”
Calli blinked, then looked down. “How did you know it was mine?”
He smirked. “Wild guess.”
Angel walked around to the driver’s side and opened the door. When she didn’t move, he propped his arm on the door frame and studied her. She was fire-breathing mad; her small fists clenched, her features tight. He couldn’t resist goading her. “Hey, I can drive away in this fifty-thousand dollar car, alone, or you can come with me.”
She yanked open the door, glaring at him as she dropped into the seat, venting her anger by slamming the door. He’d ruined everything. She’d just wanted to cross the line into the danger zone and he was bent on playing chaperone. Terrific. At this rate, her tombstone would likely read, “Here lies the vestal virgin, untouched by any man.” Or by any excitement.
“I should have you arrested.”
“Good luck finding a cop around here.” He started the engine and left the lot, swinging by a motorcycle long enough to lock it down and unclip the helmet from the seat. He tossed it into the back of the car and drove away.
Calli huffed and stared out the window. She wasn’t afraid of him. Maybe because he had come to her defense, even though she’d had the situation under control. Calli sunk into the seat a little, the truth finding her. Who was she fooling? Outnumbered to start with, Tiny would have pounded her into the concrete like a toothpick into a stick of butter if Angel hadn’t stepped in. The fact irked her.
She slanted a quick look at her rescuer. He was so annoyingly calm when she wanted to kick something, preferably him. Well. There was always tomorrow, Sir Galahad. She hadn’t come all the way from Texas just to spend her time watching TV. She could go back to the Nail or some other dive anytime.
He drove without talking, but Calli could hear his breathing, smell the scent of him. Not cologne, but a fragrance like nothing she knew. Wind and freedom—and risk. She cast a look at him. He was glancing
