wouldn’t be a fight.” The burning urge for violence uncoiled inside him. “I can prove it if you need me to, but it’d be easier on all of us if you just moved on.” Easier on Avery, for sure. He knew when this ended, she’d give him all kinds of hell.
Soured beer breath assaulted Rowdy when the man bumped closer to him. “We’re allowed to be here.”
Rowdy didn’t budge an inch. Sometimes men just needed to let off steam. He got that.
Hell, he felt it himself right now.
“Here in the lot, sure.” He leaned in—forcing the shorter man to lean back. “But you’re not allowed to disrespect her or bother her, and you sure as hell aren’t allowed to get near her.”
In a belated bid for control, the guy lifted both hands to shove Rowdy back.
Bad move.
Using his momentum against him, Rowdy pulled the fool forward, off balance, and clipped him in the face with his elbow. The drunk sprawled to the ground, landing on the rough gravel with a painful curse.
The yeti swung but Rowdy dodged the fist, then delivered one short jab to the bloated beer gut. On a sharp exhalation, the bigfoot went down hard over his buddy.
“Fucking asshole,” the third man said, charging forward.
Rowdy leaned to the left and brought up his knee, catching the shorter man in the chin. He stumbled backward, stood frozen for a second and then crumpled to the ground.
The first man showed signs of life, groaning from beneath the ape. Rowdy stood there, fists clenched, wanting him to get up. He still sizzled with unspent tension.
He wanted, needed, a real fight.
What happened instead left him very dissatisfied.
The third guy slid on the gravel until his feet found purchase, then he lurched away, a hand to his nose to stem the flow of blood. He literally fled the scene and never once looked back.
Well, hell.
The second guy sat up, grumbling and holding his big gut. Calling Rowdy names in a low, whiny voice, he got to his feet. Meaty arms wrapped around his belly, he staggered off after his buddy.
The first man down stay sprawled on his back.
Rowdy crouched beside him. “You’re a disappointment, man. I really wanted to take you apart, but you’re drunker than I realized.”
“Fuck you,” he grumbled in a very slurred voice. Unbelievably, he curled to his side and stopped moving.
Narrowing his gaze, Rowdy waited—and heard the drunk’s breathing even out. “No way.” He nudged the guy, but only got a snuffling groan that went back into a near snore. Rowdy shot to his feet. “Goddamn it.”
“I take it you wanted more sport?”
Jerking around, Rowdy found himself facing three other guys. This group was younger than the first, physically fit and from all appearances, clearheaded.
A slow smile lifted his mouth.
Maybe he’d get the fight he wanted after all.
CHAPTER FIVE
THE YOUNG MAN who’d spoken smiled right back. Watching the drunks retreat, he said, “Relax, man. We’re innocent bystanders, just taking in the show.” Stance relaxed, he shrugged. “Not that there was all that much to see.”
“Unfortunately.” Rowdy did a quick evaluation. This guy looked to be early twenties, maybe six-two. Dressed in jeans, sneakers and a flannel shirt, with a stocking cap pulled over his hair.
The worn clothes didn’t hide a ripped physique.
The smile showed confidence, and maybe even amusement, which meant he wasn’t worried about handling himself.
The two behind him looked more ragtag, and while also fit, more on the average side. One of them held a cola can and an expression of boredom. The other crossed his arms over his chest in a show of antagonism.
They weren’t intimidated by the pathetic beat down they’d just witnessed, and why should they be?
Rowdy hoped like hell that Avery stayed put in the apartment building. “Out for an evening stroll, huh?”
Cockiness widened his smile even more. “Something like that.” He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and nudged aside a broken bottle with the toe of his shoes. “Loudmouths and litterbugs. What’s the world coming to?”
Poverty had carved false daring into many personalities, maybe even his own. Rowdy would disabuse the young men of any forward intent right now. “They can be as loud as they want, and trash the place for all I care. But they won’t—”
“Go near the lady? Yeah, I got that.” He looked over his shoulder at his pals. “You guys mind picking up these bottles? Some kid will come through here and shred his feet.”
To Rowdy’s surprise, the backup came forward and began picking up broken glass.
“I’m Cannon Colter.” The talker gestured with his shoulder to the apartment building. “You live around here?”
The door to the apartment squeaked like a horror movie when Avery tried to sneak it open. Shit, shit, shit. Should he lie? Should he say he was with Avery each night to deter any thoughts of bugging her?
Cannon leaned forward. “We don’t do that, so relax.”
Feeling like an unscripted extra in a very bad play, Rowdy said, “Do what?”
“Hassle women.” Cannon shook his head. “Not our thing.”
“So what is your thing?”
He withdrew a little, looking up at the lightening sky, then the convenience store, before giving Rowdy a direct stare. “We grew up here. I hate seeing those creeps foul the place up more than it already is.”
“Is that so?”
“And I have a little sis.” He lifted his brows as if that explained everything.
Being a big brother himself, Rowdy supposed it did. Cannon—and here he thought Rowdy was an odd name—didn’t want his sister bothered by the scum. He dared a quick glance back, but luckily, even though Avery had poked her head out the door, she’d stayed inside as he’d...asked. Okay, so it’d been more of an order. He’d apologize for that as soon as he got this wrapped up.
Cannon looked at Avery, too. “Sorry, man, but she sticks out like a sore thumb.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“She’s gonna draw drunks like flies to manure.”
Glad that Avery hadn’t caught that comment, Rowdy fought off a grin. He could only imagine how she’d react if she heard that particular comparison. “Yup.”
“You’re
