Chapter 6
“Is there someone I can call? Do you have a car, or can I walk you home?”
I couldn’t stop the laugh from rolling off my tongue, thick with irony and disbelief. “No,” I huffed. “I’ll be just fine. Thanks, though, Batman.”
I straightened my clothes, cleared my throat and gave him an awkward two finger salute while walking away.
Before I made it two steps, he cursed under his breath and grabbed my wrist.
“Hey!” I exclaimed and tried to jerk my hand away from his hold.
His hand swallowed mine, and the heat of his skin competed with steam rising off my own. It was like throwing a blanket over the heated floor vent–pleasantly warming your toes while simultaneously suffocating you slowly.
“You’re hurt.” His eyes scanned my wrist, fingers hovering above where, sure as shit, blood stained my skin.
“Huh.” I examined the wound alongside him.
“It would seem so.” The worn brick left a bloody rash on the back of my hand, and bruises were already blooming around my wrist. “I’ll be fine.
Not the first time it’s happened, won’t be the last, and it’s not a big deal.
” The night seemed to hold its breath while this stranger and I were stuck in an in-between moment.
I was the first to move and return its breath.
“Hands,” I warned, pulling my arm again and, this time, he let me go. “Good boy,” I quipped.
“At least let me walk you home.”
My eyes lost themselves somewhere in the back of my head before finding their way back to glare at him.
I was so ready to be out of this greasy alley.
“How do I know you’re not going to pull that gun on me when we get to my front door? Are you interested in some stripper whore tonight, too?” I blanketed my statement in as much sarcasm as I could find hiding in my cold, dead heart. Maybe it would turn him off and I could grouch in peace.
“Wh– ” His head fell to the side while his mouth pursed in confusion.
“I see I’ve just reset you.” I gave him a deadpan stare and crossed my arms. “I’m going to walk away now while you reboot.”
If I went now I could probably track down where Axton and his band of dumbasses went.
As I turned and took my first step, he called out, “It’s Bruce.”
I stopped, heels glued to the ground and arms mid swing before turning back around to give him my best ‘the fuck did you say?’ look.
Because, well–
What the fuck did he just say?
He cleared his throat and shrugged, the motion timid yet… playful? “You called me Batman, but I left the tights at home. So, I guess you can call me Bruce.”
My head kicked back of its own volition, an unexpected cackle rang through the alley. He followed my lead and laughed along, and the sound of it…
God, it felt warm, and it made my nerves crawl for reasons I didn’t want to name.
Ew, I recoiled. Stop. Shut it down.
“Alright Bruce. You’ve earned yourself a seat in my Batmobile.”
The way his eyes shined reminded me of a golden retriever whose owner just asked if he wanted to go for a ride.
It was endearing. I kind of hated him for it.
“Even though,” I scolded with a firm point of my finger in his face. “You ruined my plans for the night.”
I turned and began the trek home. He’d have to figure out we were walking the whole way on his own.
“Your plans?” he scoffed, steps shuffling until he caught up. “The one where you were about to get raped, or the one where they throw you in a ditch after?”
“No,” I said as we turned the corner and stepped out into the booming St. Louis city streets.
“The one where I was deciding whether I was eating the hearts of men for dinner or finding a caboose and a conductor for this train.” My words were accentuated by the hella on-brand crotch chop I followed up with.
His shock was as palpable as my crude satisfaction.
I assumed he was too stunned to respond because he didn’t say anything after.
We fell into step, passing the raucous line in front of Luscious and the neon-smeared puddles lighting up the sidewalk.
Sirens wailed somewhere off in the distance and somehow the bustling sounds of city life made it feel more awkward between us.
Even if I wanted to say something to the poor bastard, I’d have to scream it to be heard over the noise, and being closer to him was the last thing I wanted.
When it became obvious we weren’t going to the parking garage a block away, he broke the silence. His fingers brushed my shoulder, a gentle warning before he invaded my space and asked, “Are we not taking your car?”
“I don’t have a car. Wayne Enterprises forgot to send my Christmas gift this year.” We locked eyes and I winked. “I must have been a naughty girl.”
His cheeks flushed scarlet and he wouldn’t meet my eyes again.
I thought I would laugh. Maybe poke fun at him or keep spouting my sarcastic bullshit. As I watched him process, though, I didn’t want to do any of those things.
Something about his shy demeanor threw me off balance. It drove my curiosity.
“You don’t seem like the kind of guy who hangs out at Lucious, Bruce. So why were you there tonight?”
He sighed heavily and scratched the top of his head. “I was there for a bachelor party. My buddy is getting married and has never been to a strip club. The other guys thought it should be part of his last night as a single man.”
My internal cringe damn near made it to my external extremities. I hated that phrase. Like waking up to state some legal bullshit gave you the right to a hall pass the night before. What changes between yesterday and tomorrow that earns someone the right to indulge in unfamiliar pussy?
“Which is ridiculous,” Bruce exhaled a heavy breath, shoved his hands into his coat pockets and shook his head while staring off into the distance.
“What does the difference in a single day make between a relationship? You’re faithful for years and then out of the blue, because you have to sign a piece of paper the next day, you go and blow it all on intoxication and STI riddled women.
” My head whipped his direction and he added, “No offense,” with a raised, placating hand.
My steps faltered, but it wasn’t because he’d just thrown me into the lot lizard class. Of all the years I’d walked this planet, I’d never once met a man who abhorred bachelor parties the way I did. Was he being sincere?
And if he were…
I cleared my throat and focused on the passing buildings rather than entertaining the idea that he may be different based on the single hour I’d known him.
Instead, as we reached the last street before my building, I deflected. “I mean, offense taken, but go on.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean–”
“Yes you did, but I’ll let it slide.” He pursed his lips and sighed again, seemingly deciding to shut the fuck up before he got throat punched. “So you were just an innocent in all of this?”
“Hardly. I am a man and not a perfect one. I couldn’t take much more in there, though. Needed to breathe some foul, dark alley air before I went stir crazy. That’s when I heard you. I followed the sound around back and found those men assaulting you.”
“Wow. You really are a vigilante.”
“No, ma’am. Just happened to be at the right place at the right time.”
I didn’t follow up his statement with a reply.
The side of my brain responsible for logic was firing red-flags on all cylinders, while the other whirled with irrationality.
I’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop for the entirety of our walk, but Bruce had been nothing but a perfect gentleman.
He’d neither made a move to wrap his arm around my waist nor suggested we take things inside when we got to my apartment.
For reasons unbeknownst to me, it made the iron in my walls flex. Walls that I’d never felt with anyone other than Lucifer.
Never.
Until now.
We reached my apartment complex and I stopped, turning to face him. Lucifer always said eyes are the gateway to the soul, so I looked—really looked—like I could pry him open if I stared hard enough.
His eyes weren’t darting side to side. His hands weren’t fidgeting, and there was no sweat dripping down his temple.
All I found was sincerity.
You walked him to your door. A stranger now knows exactly where you live.
Except… if he meant harm, the alley would’ve been easier. And I’m not easy. The worst thing in this building wasn’t on the sidewalk beside me—it was wearing my skin.
Not to mention the fifty or so other rooms filled with murderers.
“You’re different, Bruce,” I mused with narrow eyes. “I’ll give you that.”
“I hope that’s good news.”
I patted him on the shoulder, unsure of what else to do, but driven by a curious need to touch him.
To see if he felt as different as he acted.
“Thanks for walking me home. No need to sweep the place. I’ve got pepper spray, and my landlord’s a felon.
He’s killed people for less than breaking and entering. ”
Maybe that was a small hint to him: intruders don’t make it back out, so don’t stalk me.
We’d stopped on the cracked slab of sidewalk directly under the Building C awning. A streetlight hummed, throwing a cone of vintage yellow over the curb and our shadows.
Right on cue, a square of light blinked above us. I didn’t have to look to know that my nosey ass neighbor, Barb, was watching from above. Her living room window was situated on the second floor, right below my stairwell.
Please don’t notice, I thought with an internal groan. There was no easy way to explain Barb without visual aids and a dissertation.
Because God hates me, my knight in shining denim noticed.
Fucking vigilantes miss nothing.
His gaze cut up to the glowing window, lingered, then came back to me. “Somehow that’s not easing my worry.”
We both laughed, the sound small in the late-night quiet, and it felt…nice..
“This may, uh,” he cleared his throat. “May seem out of place, but, uh, could I maybe see you again?”
“Oh, because you ’saved’ me, I’m obligated to date you now?”
His eyes widened in that in-need-of-a-reboot way, as he fumbled his words. “No! That’s not what I– I mean, shit, I just, I thought that–”
“Oh my God,” I snorted, throwing my head back in the world's ugliest cackle. “I was kidding!” It was a genuine sort of laugh, and its warmth felt like hot cocoa on Christmas morning in my belly.
“Oh fuck’s sake,” he exhaled and clutched his chest. “You got jokes. Killer jokes. I think I need a hospital.”
“Nah, Alfred’s waiting in the car to patch you up.”
“It’s actually Joe. My name, I mean.”
“Oof. I like Bruce better, buuuut if you prefer Joe, then that’s what I’ll call you.”
Joe perked up, and I caught my mistake a little too late.
Shit.
“So you’ll see me again?”
Double, triple shit.
For the second time that night, I searched his eyes for deceit. I was desperate to find a gleam of ill intention; a sign that the evil I was all too familiar with lived inside of this man. I could live with the devil I knew.
It was the devil that I didn’t that made my hands tremble.
“I’ll consider it,” I answered, my voice a little more shaky than I’d like to admit. “Only, though, if you prove your worth. Heroics are basic level shit. I’m talking top tier. Okay, Joe?”
“I think I can manage it..?” His question was open ended. I knew what he was asking for and, for a minute, considered whether or not I wanted to answer it.
Alas, because of a death wish I didn’t understand, I surrendered.
“Dany.”
“Dany,” he repeated. “I like it. Does it mean anything?”
The question stunned me and before I could stop myself, I said, “What an odd thing to say.”
“Sorry. It’s just that it’s unique. Usually when people have unique names, there’s a reason for it. Unless it’s just short for Danielle. Then I guess it’s not so–”
“Goodnight, Joe.”
I didn’t wink, blow him a kiss, or toss another snarky comment.
I just took the steps to the landing and pulled the front door open.
Barb’s square of light still burned above the stoop; her lace curtain twitched like a blink.
I kept my face smooth so I didn’t have to hear her shit late.
Joe stayed on the sidewalk under the streetlamp, not following, a steady shape in the humming glow of the city night
I walked through the bleach-permeated vestibule on autopilot, climbing the three flights of stairs as my palm swiped the wooden rail.
My skin seemed to remember where his fingers had hovered earlier, the remnants of his heat seeping into my skin where his palm had hovered. The clean smell of him lingered in my nose, and the way he looked at me…
Saved me.
By the time my key turned and the lock gave, my stomach was in my throat.
I eased the door shut, let the knob press into my spine, and breathed around the shape he’d left behind. The proximity to him had been intoxicating. The way he’d stepped between me and Axton; the way he’d handled a gun and left no doubt that his threats weren’t empty words.
He would have pulled the trigger.
I couldn’t shake the image of how his eyes shimmered when I looked back. That weight lived under my skin now, pooling under my collarbones and pulsing through my veins.
Overhead, Barb’s light clicked off.
“Mind your business, Bayou Barb,” I whispered into the empty hall, pushed away from the door, and forced my thoughts into a corner where they couldn’t reach me.