Christian suggested.
The kid flashed the knife, sneering.
Christian raised an unimpressed eyebrow. He now saw the knife was actually a pocketknife. A large one, but not as menacing as he’d originally thought. Still, well-aimed, the blade could do real damage.
“Maybe you should just go back in your trailer and mind your own damned business,” the kid warned, waving the knife again.
“I don’t think I want to do that.” Although in truth, that was exactly what Christian wanted to do. Instead he leisurely approached the armed youth.
Surprise and confusion played over the kid’s face. He lifted the knife higher. Christian continued to stroll forward.
The kid actually backed up, unfortunately in the direction of Christian’s neighbor.
Christian stopped. “You need to go now.”
He concentrated, trying to use his mind control. The kid blinked and looked even more disoriented, if that was possible. Then he lifted the knife, waving it again in Christian’s direction.
“Damn it, dude, don’t you get it? This is none of your fuckin’ business.”
Christian stopped concentrating. Apparently his “being human” plan had been more effective than he’d thought, especially if he couldn’t control someone this mentally feeble.
“Actually, I think a knife-wielding…” He frowned, trying to decide what to call this guy. Oh, why waffle on the matter? “Imbecile, in my neighborhood, is very much my business. Now, drop the knife.” Good Lord, had he just officially named himself the head of the neighborhood watch?
The man wavered, uncertain what to make of Christian. But then he snarled and lunged at him. The pocketknife connected, slicing Christian’s forearm as he deflected the strike, which he might add was aimed at his chest. This guy didn’t mess around. Christian caught the kid’s arm, spinning him and jerking the limb painfully behind his back.
The imbecile swore and dropped the knife. As Christian was about to kick the weapon across the gravel drive, his neighbor appeared out of the bushes and grabbed it.
She stood directly in front of her attacker, glaring at him with dark eyes.
“Vance, I’m not going to call the police. But I swear if I see you again, I will,” she said. Her voice had the same accent as Vance’s although on her it sounded very different, almost pleasant. She pointed the knife at Vance’s chest. “I’m not kidding, Vance. This is the last warning I’m giving you.”
Christian raised an eyebrow at that. She had given this jerk other warnings? How many chances had he had before? And was this woman as much of an imbecile as her assailant? The guy was planning to attack her with a knife.
“You bitch,” the man muttered almost petulantly. “I need money.”
“Then get a job, Vance,” she told him, flicking the knife closed and slipping it in the pocket of her jeans.
“Dude, my arm is going to pop out of the socket,” Vance complained to Christian, trying to look over his shoulder at him.
Christian couldn’t resist tugging his arm up just a tad higher. The kid cried out and swore again.
“Let him go,” Cherry told Christian.
“I don’t think so. You might not be calling the police, but I plan to.” These two had interrupted his…blogging. Someone was going to pay for that. Not to mention, they’d gotten him involved. And he had been damned successful at not getting involved with anyone.
“No,” Cherry said, her dark eyes pleading.
Why on earth would she beg to help this idiot?
Her attention returned to Vance. “Vance, you have got to get help. I mean it. You are going to end up right back in prison again.”
“Just give me some money, then.”
“No, Vance. No.”
The kid actually kicked the ground like a cranky child. “All right,” he finally muttered.
“And don’t you dare come back here unless you are clean,” she added.
The kid mumbled something under his breath, then nodded.
Cherry stared at him for a moment, then looked to Christian. “Please let him go.”
Even though it was against his better judgment, Christian released the kid. Vance shook out his arm, rotating the shoulder, and then like a rabbit released from a trap, he ran down the road toward the highway. Well, more like an inebriated rabbit. A few seconds later, Christian heard an engine start and wheels squealing on tar.
“Thank you,” Cherry said, and smiled a little sheepishly. “I appreciate your help.”
Christian nodded, still not certain what had actually happened here. “Right. Well…” What did humans say in bizarre circumstances like this? “Good night, then.”
He had turned to head back to the normal security of his trailer when her hand caught his. He startled at the contact, her fingers small and very warm curled around his.
“Oh my God, you’re hurt.”
He frowned. Her touch had surprised him, but it didn’t hurt. Then he noticed she was staring at his arm. He glanced down and saw a large patch of blood had soaked through the sleeve of his shirt.
“Oh. That.” He shrugged. “It’s nothing.”
He started to leave again, but she didn’t release his fingers. Instead she tugged him in the opposite direction.
“Come inside and let me look at it.”
Refusal was right there on his lips. Then he looked at her wide smile, and for some unknown reason, like why he came to her aid in the first place, he allowed her to lead him into her trailer.
The layout of the trailer mimicked his own. Except his was actually homier, if that was possible. She led him into the kitchen to the sink.
“Stay right here,” she ordered, then disappeared down the hallway. Christian glanced around the room. No wonder she was roaming around the countryside at night. She didn’t exactly have a welcoming home to relax in. The kitchen was devoid of all furniture and the living room only had three metal folding chairs arranged around a beaten-up steamer trunk.
And Vance had come to this woman looking for money? That was very optimistic of him.
“Okay,” she said as she returned with a rather threadbare but clean-looking towel. “Let’s take a look at this cut.”
He watched as she set the towel on the counter and reached for the buttons on the cuff of his sleeve. She tsked. “Too bad. This looks like an expensive shirt.”
It was, but he didn’t say anything. Instead he watched her slender, pale fingers work on the buttons. He frowned. Why did he find the simple action so fascinating?
“I
