Jagged Edge

Not that he’s the only one. Men generally do.

The pain doesn’t let me move as fast as I’d like to, and the night blurs in my eyes as I stumble between buildings and into an alley. Hiding is my best bet. Saved my life countless times. Sprinting, too, but with that option out of the question…

Pounding footsteps follow me, and panic grips my chest, squeezing my lungs. Dammit, if it’s not the cops chasing me away from all the places I shouldn’t be—which is just about everywhere—it’s one of Simon’s thugs.

My shoes slap through puddles and over wet concrete, and the end of the alley is in sight, when a heavy hand slams into me and sends me crashing down. My head hits the ground, and a moment later I’m lifted with a bruising hold on my arm.

“You piece of shit,” the man snarls, spitting in my face, shaking me. “This where you ran to, huh? Where’s the money?”

“I don’t have it,” I grind out as he shakes me again. I grab at his thick arms and kick at his shins. “How the hell can I pay if he won’t let me work, huh?”

He opens his mouth to reply, blackened and missing teeth and a stench like a toilet, when he jerks and drops me.

I stagger backward, slipping and barely managing to stay upright. I’m panting, unable to catch my breath.

What the hell?

A tall, muscular guy looms behind the thug. I catch a glint of blue eyes under mussed dark hair—then a fist swings at the thug, who grunts, going down like a sack of potatoes.

Staying down.

Shit.

Finally it registers that I know my unlikely savior. My savior for the second time in a matter of days.

Well, fuck me sideways.

Oh wait, life. You’ve already done that.

“Raine,” I say flatly as he shakes out his hand, panting as hard as I am, squinting at me. “We really should stop meeting like this.”

Raine tries to grab my arm, and I jerk away, making my way toward the exit of the alley. I need to leave the groaning thug and this claustrophobic, narrow space that’s crushing my chest far behind.

Unless that’s the fear.

Who the hell cares?

“Wait up,” Raine calls after me, and fuck, I wish he’d go away. I’m raw with nerves and panic, and my hands are shaking.

He’s faster, though. He reaches my side and blocks me from running away. “You okay?” he asks, lifting his hand to my face, though I flinch back. “You’re bleeding. Did he punch you?”

What? I wipe a hand under my nose, and it comes away covered with blood. Oh that. “I’m all right.” I step back. “Look, thanks, okay? I dunno what you’re doing here, but thanks for…” I wave my hand. “Saving my ass. Again.”

“Sure thing.” He glances back at the alley. “This is more serious than offering you a coffee on a cold morning.”

And your jacket, and a helping hand, I think, but I throttle the thought, angry at myself.

He’s right, it is more serious. I consider what he did. “Did you break his jaw?”

“I don’t know.” He doesn’t seem very disturbed at the prospect, though his gaze returns to rest on me. Such pretty eyes.

And a violent side.

“Why are you here?” I ask carefully, prodding at the puzzle. “How did you know to come help me?” When I needed you. Again. “Were you following me?”

The moment the words leave my mouth, I wince. I sound as paranoid as I feel.

“What?” He stares at me as if I grew a second head. “No. I was eating. In a restaurant. Saw you standing outside.”