CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Jake
Shane cries out as she stumbles, falling to the sidewalk. The man who grabbed her reaches for her arm again, but I’m already on him, slamming my shoulder into his gut as I drive him into the wall of the building behind us.
My thoughts are nothing but a blur of rage and fear and the blinding need to get this piece of shit away from Shane as fast as I can. To get him away from her and to make him regret the moment he decided to touch her for the rest of his fucking life.
I pull back a fist, slamming it hard into his gut. He groans, but before he can suck in a breath, I hit him again and again.
I hit him until he gags and spit dribbles from his mouth onto the black mask he wears. I hit him until his knees buckle, and some quiet voice in my head insists it’s probably time to stop, but I don’t.
I don’t stop until I hear Shane cry out, and I turn to see another man in a mask bearing down on me with a two-by-four he must have grabbed from the pile of trash on the curb. I dodge, catching the blow intended for my head on the shoulder instead, and spin around, preparing to fight the second guy for control of his makeshift weapon.
But instead of coming for me again, the guy throws the board. I lift my arms, protecting my face but catching something sharp in my arm in the process.
I curse as a stabbing sensation spreads through my forearm. I reach up, ripping the board away, revealing a nail covered in blood. But it’s not a lot of blood, and I’m still good to fight. I raise my fists, ready to take down the guy who hasn’t had my fist in his gut yet, and see both men hauling ass down the sidewalk, the second guy supporting the first.
I start after them, but Shane grabs my arm. “Don’t, Jake. Please!” The fear in her voice makes my heart start racing all over again.
I spin back to her, scanning her for injuries. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
“No, I’m fine,” she says, shaking her head. “But you aren’t. You’re bleeding.”
I glance down at the red stain spreading through the fibers of my torn sweater. “I’m fine. It was just a nail. I’ll wash it off when we get home.”
“Unh-unh. No way, Falcone.” Her gaze hardens as she shakes her head from side to side and her fingers curl deeper into my bicep. “We are going to the emergency room and you’re going to get a tetanus shot. I’m not going to let you get lockjaw on my watch.”
“I don’t need a tetanus shot.” I glance over my shoulder, thinking what I really need is to finish beating the shit out of the men who tried to mug Shane, but they’re already out of sight.
I turn back to her with a sigh to see her clearly gearing up for a fight and lift my hands in surrender. “Seriously, I know I’m up to date. The team doctors make sure we’re covered for tetanus and bacterial meningitis in case of skate cuts or assholes who don’t know how to keep their hands off their mouth guards during a game.”
Shane’s shoulders relax away from her ears and the fire fades from her eyes. “All right. If you promise you know you’re good.”
“I promise,” I say, taking her hand. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
She nods slowly. “Yeah. Just shaken. That was just so…strange.”
“Yeah, you don’t expect that shit in Midtown,” I say. “There are so many cops around here. Not the smartest place to start mugging people.”
Shane shakes her head, her frown deepening. “More than that, why go for my purse? There are dozens of other women around here who aren’t standing next to a man who has muscles on top of his muscles.”
“I don’t know.” I run a hand through my hair, wincing as pain flashes through my knuckles. I’m going to be feeling those punches for a few days, but that bastard will be feeling them for a lot longer. “You do have that rich girl look about you.”
“Oh yeah?” She arches a brow. “How’s that?”
I shrug, sensing I could be getting into dangerous territory. “Something about your hair, I guess? It looks softer than a normal person’s hair.”
She harrumphs, clearly unimpressed.
“And your clothes, maybe? Or your purse? It’s expensive, right?”
“My clothes are from Macy’s, not the expensive part, and my purse cost fifty bucks at a sample sale,” she says. “Aside from having expensive highlights—which half the women around here have, I’ll add, because you wear your hair every day and it is worth the extra expense—there is no reason to target me over an easier mark.”
My lips part, but before I can speak, she adds, “And speaking of clothes, the man you hit was wearing a very nice sweater, and both of those guys had recently showered. I could smell their shampoo.”
“Thieves shower, too, Shane,” I say, though I have to admit what she’s saying makes sense. “Maybe they were planning to hit the club after they stole your identity and emptied your bank account.”
“Or maybe this wasn’t a random mugging,” she says, pinning me with a sharp look. “Maybe it was a message, Jake. And maybe it’s time we went to the police and told them everything about Keri before one of us gets seriously hurt.”