31. Chapter 31 #2
That came from Sloane, sounding awfully fiery for someone Evan was about to get an ass whooping for.
“Not here,” Evan grunted, feinting right before slashing their knife out toward the man’s left side. It barely grazed his jacket before Evan got hit with that sledgehammer of a fist. The air seized in their lungs as they dropped hard, toppling over the garbage can on the way down.
“Evan!”
“Fuckin’ hell,” they wheezed, their mouth watering as the burger they’d eaten earlier threatened to make an appearance.
The knife was pried from their hand, and then a voice growled, “Stay down.”
Evan’s vision spotted. Their face hurt like a motherfucker, and there was a good chance their head was leaking. So when the restroom door opened and the comforting, familiar scent of Frankie wafted under Evan’s nose, they chalked it up to a hallucination. And wow, it was a good one.
“Daddy?”
She still wore her azure-blue suit, but her hair had been tied back at some point.
She spared Evan a quick, reassuring glance before turning her focus on the man.
They squared off in the center of the restroom, Sloane on one side and Evan struggling to sit up on the other.
They watched as the man wielded the knife, their knife, and circled Frankie.
“Come get it, bitch.” He lunged at Frankie, aiming straight for her chest. Evan’s heart stuttered, the memory of Frankie’s scar flashing before their eyes.
“Look out!”
But Frankie laughed, dodging the knife easily. She danced around the man while wearing heels and a wolfish grin, looking every bit like she’d prayed all day for this exact outcome.
“You hurt what’s mine. That was a mistake.”
Mmm ‘kay, but why is that so hot?
It had been years since anyone went to bat for them, let alone a fierce, dominant femme with a killer aesthetic appeal. Not that the last part mattered so much, but hot damn, Frankie was wearing the shit out of that suit. And kicking ass doing it.
Evan watched the fight with rapt attention, half listening to Sloane cheer on Frankie like she was a die-hard fan at an MMA match.
When the knife came at her again, Frankie knocked the man’s arm to the side.
He then swiped up and around, coming at Frankie in a different direction, but she thwarted his attempts again, grabbed his wrist, and quickly disarmed him.
The knife clattered to the floor, and Frankie kicked it away.
The man punched her in the gut, but unlike Evan, she barely moved.
Instead, Frankie returned a few punches of her own before her opponent somehow put her in a chokehold from behind.
“Fuck, Frank—”
Frankie rammed the man into the closed stall and kicked him hard in the shin. The second he loosened his grip a fraction, Frankie flipped him over her shoulder and slammed him onto the floor.
“Evan, hand me your apron,” she instructed, only marginally out of breath.
“Ugh …” Evan scrambled to remove it while Frankie forcefully turned the man onto his stomach and shoved a knee into his back. When he fought her to get up, she knocked him unconscious with a quick jab to the face.
“Sloane, call the police.”
“Already did, boss,” Sloane squeaked.
“You know him?” Frankie asked before accepting the apron from Evan. Her eyes softened. “Thanks, baby.”
“Never saw him in my life,” Sloane answered. “He grabbed me just outside the pub.”
“That fight, what you did, was …” Crazy? Impressive? Scary? “Attractive,” Evan finished lamely. They’d been in a few fights in prison, but never with such finesse. Mostly, it was Evan getting beaten up by bigger, tougher inmates.
One corner of Frankie’s plump mouth quirked up. “Duly noted.” She made quick work securing the man’s wrists and ankles by using the apron strings. When she stood up, she glanced between Evan and Sloane. “Are you two okay?”
They both nodded, but Sloane added, “Just glad you came to the rescue.”
“I did try,” Evan grumbled.
Frankie stepped closer and reached for Evan slowly, giving them plenty of time to back away.
But distancing themself was the last thing on their mind.
Her hand grasped the back of Evan’s neck, and she guided them into her warmth.
“When I go to greet the police, I need you to disappear. Go back to work or something, but don’t stay here.
Can you do that for me? And hand me the sheath for your knife. I’ll say it was mine.”
Evan nodded mutely, kicked up their leg, and effortlessly removed the sheath from inside their boot before handing it over.
In response, Frankie gave them the sweetest kiss.
It was fleeting, airy almost in the way their lips pressed together, but it felt like their Domme was rewarding them for their obedience.
And despite their new aches and pains from the fight, Evan’s body tingled with the knowledge.
Frankie left, leaving them alone with the man once more. Something nagged at Evan about the whole thing. The attack seemed too random, especially when they considered how late Sloane was for her shift.
“What was that about?” Sloane grumbled, now examining herself in front of the mirror. She’d certainly have a shiner come morning, if not sooner. Her lip was split as well, but she still had that same attitude Evan was used to.
“I just got out of prison,” they said without thinking, then wanted to kick themself. Not just but surely being involved in an altercation wouldn’t look good for them.
Sure enough, Sloane’s bruised eyes widened a fraction. “For what?”
“Stealing.” Burglary, to be specific, but there was no need to hash out all the details.
“Well, fuck. You know, I didn’t expect you to jump to my rescue.”
Evan lifted one shoulder. “You’re my friend.” They reached up to feel the back of their head, finding moisture there they’d thought was blood earlier. They sniffed their damp fingers. Huh. It was sweet-smelling, like someone had dumped a take-out cup of soda into the garbage.
“You better go.”
“Hey, are you sure this doesn’t have something to do with your gambling?”
Sloane stilled. “Excuse me?”
Might as well go all in. Evan sighed, their hand on the door. “You gamble. A lot. And I bet Coy has no idea how bad shit is.”
She glared at Evan in the mirror for several awkward seconds before snapping, “And you aren’t gonna tell her. Stay in your lane, Evan. If you’re my friend, then be one and mind your fucking business.”