Chapter 1 #2
“That’s none of your business. Just be thankful I’m not pressing charges.
” She moved stiffly away, trying not to let on how sore she was.
The board attached to the end of his wrist had done a number on her tender bottom, and she just wanted to get away, go home, and soak away her shame and embarrassment.
But no, once again, her arm was taken in that firm grasp, and she was turned gently to face him. “I insist on seeing you home.”
“Don’t bother.”
He chuckled. It was deep. Rich. Entirely appropriate for a man who had just manhandled a stranger in an alleyway. It could compete with a Baby Ruth reaction.
“It’s no bother.” He took Holly’s arm in his other hand. “Say goodnight to Miss Bunny and Miss Cat, Holly. You’re coming with me.”
“But, Uncle Logan,” Holly protested, trying to pull away. “You’re treating me like a baby, let go of me.”
“Good night, Holly,” her friends chorused as he led her and Holly down the block towards a silver Camaro. They could all hear the other two girls snickering.
“You can’t do this to me, Uncle Logan,” Holly yelped furiously. “I’ll be the laughingstock of my friends now.”
“My car is just around the corner,” Darcy said, trying to pull out of his grasp. “I’ll be fine, just let go of me.”
“Get in,” he ordered, ignoring both of their protests.
Fuming, she obeyed, sitting gingerly on the leather of the front seat while Holly, still complaining, climbed into the back.
Darcy didn’t need the mirror over the visor to know she looked like she’d gone ten rounds with the proverbial cat.
Her witch hat was hanging down her back, her hair was a tangled mess, and her dignity had deserted her back there in the alley.
To top it all off, she was trapped in a car with a man who clearly thought he was judge, jury, and executioner with that hard hand of his.
She sneaked a surreptitious look at those hands on the steering wheel as he pulled the car into the flow of traffic.
“What’s your name?” He glanced sideways at her as he flicked on the turn signal. “And this time I want an answer.”
His tone brooked no argument, and Darcy grudgingly gave in. “Darcy.”
He lifted his eyebrow and shot her a warning glance.
“Darcy DeAngelo.” She fumed, instinctively knowing what that eyebrow meant and hating herself for responding to his take-charge attitude. “What’s yours?” she asked defiantly. “I’ll need to know when I press charges for assault.” He looked amused, which only annoyed her more.
“It’s Logan Thompson,” he said smoothly. “Holly’s uncle. You’re not actually thinking of reporting this, are you?”
“Maybe.” Her tone was pure defiance, even though she knew she wouldn’t.
There was no way she was going to explain this to a cop.
She could just imagine the police report now: The victim’s backside was assaulted by mistake.
No visible injuries, unless you count pride.
She would be the laughingstock of the law enforcement world.
Yeah, not happening. But she wasn’t about to let him off the hook either.
“What’s with the whole ‘smack ass’ routine, huh? You get your kicks from playing caveman, or is this your charming personality?”
Holly snorted in the back seat.
Logan didn’t flinch. “Not a caveman. Just a believer in consequences. Call it old-school if you want, but there was a time when accountability meant more than a passive-aggressive text and a blocked number.”
She narrowed her eyes. “And now you're out here trying to bring back the Dark Ages one swat at a time?”
His eyes were serious. “Some people never stopped living that way. You’d be surprised.”
“Yeah, well, those people probably churn their own butter and call the internet the devil. Not me.” She crossed her arms. “I believe in equality, human rights, and not getting my butt blistered for having an opinion.”
“The world’s a strange place,” he said, unbothered. “One minute you’re climbing the corporate ladder, the next you’re over someone’s knee, rethinking your life choices. Never say never, sweetheart.” He shot her a teasing grin.
“You’re so hilarious.” She crossed her legs and pretended like the dimples adorning the curves of his mouth weren’t personal weapons. “Thanks for the unsolicited life coaching, Dr. Suess. I’ll make sure I forget all of it. You need to get a new hobby.”
He grinned wider and chuckled. “Who says I don’t already have one?”
Darcy felt that flicker of attraction again—unwelcome, and completely unfair.
Good-looking men weren’t to be trusted. Their best friends were themselves and a good mirror.
And this one came with his own personal warning label: May cause heat, headaches, and leave occasional handprints in low places. With a huff, she turned away.
“Turn left at the next corner, my car is parked there,” she instructed. At least it should be around the next corner. She’d parked it a few blocks away and walked to her destination, the glorified “Bates Hotel”, otherwise known as The Rocking Chair Motel.
How appropriate.
Waiting to see if Mr. Beefy would come back out with his overblown mistress was boring, but it was a job. Then she’d been accosted by this throwback to another century. Her bottom was still stinging.
Despite her abused rear, Darcy was strangely aware of Logan, as if her body was subtly adapting to his, seeking closeness.
She didn’t have a good track record with men and was more wary than that cat in a roomful of baying hounds.
Her friend still wanted her to see a therapist—the irony of that seemed to have escaped Amy.
But then Amy was sweet, kind, and had married her high school sweetheart.
No unwelcome secrets springing up at the wrong moment in that relationship—it was more stable than a concrete block.
“Is that your car?”
Her eyes slid reluctantly sideways, drawn by his low voice—rough as whiskey, warm like a campfire, but edged with something that made her skin tingle.
Dangerous in a way that made her want to run as far away and as fast as she could.
For a split second, she was caught in the pull of his voice—until her gaze landed on her ’98 Taurus.
Any flutter of awareness was bulldozed by the cold punch of horror that slammed into her chest when she saw what was left of her beloved car.
“Stop,” she yelled as she scrabbled for the car door.
Before he was fully stopped, she jumped out of his car and ran to the decimated remains of her baby.
This wasn’t vandalism; it was a back-alley predator attack.
All four tires were gone. Stereo torn out.
The engine was gutted and stripped bare like an animal carcass picked clean by greedy vultures.
Her baby—her faithful, slightly rusty, coffee-stained baby—was nothing but trash now.
And she’d just made the last payment on it.
Frantically, she dropped to her knees, the asphalt of the roadway biting into her orange and black striped tights. Shoving her hand beneath the driver’s seat, she swept her fingers back and forth, praying that the thieves had somehow missed it. Please, please—but it wasn’t to be.
Empty—her purse was gone.
Darcy pushed to her feet, stomach sinking with the certainty that the universe really did have it out for her.
The Gods of luck had turned their back on her.
Groaning, she placed both forearms against the edge of the door, banging her head between them in a monotonous thumping rhythm.
“This could only happen to me,” she muttered, her eyes tightly shut.
“Something else wrong?”
She spun around to see Mr. Tall, dark, and annoyingly male watching her with a glint of curiosity tinged with sympathy. “Of course not, I just enjoy banging my head on cars, it’s good for the brain. Didn’t you know that?”
His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t rise to her jab. “I’ll let that pass since you’ve obviously had another shock...that is, if this is your car?”
“Of course, it’s my car!” Was the man dense, along with his other alpha failings? “I only like to headbang my car, you know? Other people tend to get weird when you dent their vehicles.”
Steel slid into his voice. “That’s enough. There is no need to be unpleasant and rude.” His tone dipped lower. “If you keep it up, I may turn you over my knee for another spanking.”
The words were flat, specific, like a man who didn’t bluff. They pressed in on her, like a door slowly closing in a dark hallway, and her pulse skipped a beat.
Darcy’s self-preservation radar started blaring. The hair on the back of her neck stood up like it always did when danger was afoot.
Still, he couldn’t have it all his way.
“Don’t even think it,” she warned, low and tight.
His voice was deliberate, unhurried. “I can do more than just think it.”
Darcy was done. This night was an official disaster of the highest proportions. And this graduate from the Alpha Male Academy wasn’t helping. But she knew when to cut her losses.
“Whatever.”
One little word that meant so much.
With a shrug of her slender shoulders, she turned and walked away.
At least she could console herself with leaving his smug, handsome face in her rearview.
Tears of frustration and temper were building, and she didn’t trust herself not to slap him as if she were beating out a pizza crust while it was in the air—with both hands.
This evening could not have gone more wrong if Hades himself had popped up from the Underworld to torture her personally. Oh—wait. He sent his minion instead, Mr. Wonderful. She wondered if there was a police station nearby or someone on a doorstep who would let her use their phone to make a call.
No such luck.
“Wait, you can’t go running around alone in this neighborhood.”
Once again, she was grabbed by the arm and turned to face her tormentor.
“Let go of me,” she hissed. “Using my butt for a stress reliever wasn’t enough for you?
Just leave me alone.” She tried to jerk her arm out of his grasp, but he wouldn’t let go.
Instead, he took the bag off her other arm and let it fall open.
“Seeing as how you only have a camera in this bag,” he drawled, “I’m guessing you left your wallet, phone, and money in the car. And now it’s all gone.”
“Ding, ding—give the man a prize,” she drawled back. “After your earlier mistake, I would never have pegged you to be so astute.”
Her arm was tingling where he held it, and her knees began to shake again.
The scent of some heady male aftershave drifted lightly across her nostrils as he pulled her closer.
Tangy and tantalizing, it made her want to cuddle up to his chest and let him take care of her.
She cursed under her breath. Why did he have such an unsettling effect on her?
Worse yet, why did she have to run into someone so perfect, only to find out he wasn’t?
His eyes flashed a definite warning once again as he hustled her towards his car. “Come on, you’re coming home with me and Holly.”
Darcy dug her heels in. “I most certainly am not. I don’t even know you.”
He questioned her as he continued to drag her along despite her protests. “And just what are you planning to do then? You have no money, no ID, no wallet, which means no bank card or checks, and it’s almost 10:00 p.m.”
“Not your business. What does it matter to you, anyway? I’ll find a phone and call a friend.”
He stopped by his car and opened the door for her.
“I can’t leave you out here by yourself, Darcy DeAngelo.
I feel responsible for you since I mistook you for my niece.
And now that I know you’re stranded, I won’t leave you on your own,” he insisted.
Then his voice softened. “Be reasonable. At least come with us to Holly’s house.
You can use my cell to call a friend for help and wait there for them to arrive.
None of us needs to be hanging out in the streets this time of night. Please?”
If he had ordered her about one more time, Darcy would have slapped him with her bag and faced the consequences.
But since he’d virtually begged, she decided to give in.
Nah, who was she kidding? Her sense of self-preservation had kicked in again when she spotted two shadows lurking in the alleyway down the street behind him.
She slid into the car and allowed him to close the door.
“Is he always this bossy?” she shot to the girl in the back seat.
“No,” Holly replied, “usually he’s worse. He must be feeling guilty for making a mistake. Of course, I have to say I’m glad he did.” She grinned, her smile lighting up her impish features.
“Thanks a lot,” Darcy replied dryly. “You owe me one, kid.”