Wait. Lucas Donahue? Now I knew why he looked familiar. He worked for the most violent arms dealer in the area. He was in a gang. He was in the Sons of Steel Row.
While I stayed far away from that life, I knew a few people who didn’t. Those still alive kept me up-to-date. When I met him in my bar, I’d known he was trouble, but I hadn’t known he was that much trouble. His crew was known for their violence and brutality. They owned Steel Row and pretty much everything in it.
Why, then, did he save me?
“It’s my business because she’s mine.” Lucas fisted his hand in Star Tattoo’s hair and slammed his head into the wall. “She’s my girlfriend, you fucking idiot, and she has my protection.”
Wait. I was his what?
The man nodded as best as he could. “S-sorry, Mr. Donahue. We didn’t know she was property of Steel Row.”
“Now you fucking know. You come near her again, and I’ll kill you and everyone else in Bitter Hill, and then I’ll kill some more.” He yanked on the man’s hair. “Got it, prick?”
He nodded again. “Yes.”
“Clean up the bodies before she gets in trouble for something she didn’t do. I’ll expect them to be gone within the hour.” Lucas slammed the guy’s face into the wall one more time and shoved him in the opposite direction from me. “Now, get out before I change my mind and kill you, too.”
The man fell but stumbled to his feet and took off as if hell itself chased after him. It probably did. Lucas watched him go, his hands still fisted. His back was to me, and his frame was illuminated by the streetlights. He stood there for a second, his entire body stiff. Then he kicked Dark Eyes’s dead body and snarled, “Son of a bitch.”
I watched him, cautiously remaining quiet. Yeah, he’d been a hero tonight, but he didn’t exactly look happy about that. When he turned to me, he held out his hand as he kneeled beside me. He reached out to touch me and I flinched. Not because of him, but because I was having a delayed reaction to what had just happened. It had all happened so fast. Lucas’s eye was already blackening, and he had blood running down from a gash in his forehead. He was sweaty and bloody and he’d saved my life.
By killing two men.
His mouth tightened into a flat line and he cupped my cheek, despite my knee-jerk reaction. “Are you okay? Did they . . . did he . . .?” He scanned my torn clothes with angry, concerned eyes. “Shit.”
“I’m fine.” I held my ripped shirt together with a tight grip. The sensation of his hand on my cheek was comforting. Never thought I’d put him and that thought in the same sentence together. “You were just in time.” I choked back tears of relief.
Big girls weren’t supposed to cry.
“No.” He swept his thumb over my cheekbone. “Not fast enough.”
I rested my hand over his, holding it in place. Gratitude for what he’d done for me filled me, and I knew there was no going back to pretending he didn’t affect me. “Thank you. Seriously.”
Something flashed in his bright green eyes. “There’s nothing to thank me for. I’m not your hero. I’m not anyone’s hero.”
He stood up and towered over me. I tilted my head back, and he watched me with a dark look in his green eyes—one that etched itself into my soul. With one look at his dangerous jawline, I knew that I’d never forget who he was, or his real name, ever again. I let him help me stand, my knees shaking so uncontrollably I thought I might fall over, which pissed me off. I hated weakness. It didn’t look good on me. Glancing down at the bodies on the ground, I swallowed hard. “Are they both dead?”
He didn’t let go of me but started leading me toward his shop. “They won’t bother you again.”
“They’re dead.” I followed him, more out of instinct than anything else. He tugged me along, so I followed him. “You killed them.”
“They were going to hurt you.” He stopped walking, our hands still entwined. “Of course I did.”
I blinked at him. He thought that made perfect sense. They’d done me wrong, so they deserved to die. It was so black-and-white for him. “Why?”
“I told you why.” He scratched the back of his head and glanced over his shoulder impatiently. “They were hurting you.”
“But why do you care? Something tells me you don’t normally jump into fights that aren’t yours,” I said.
“How would you know?”
“I heard him say your name. I know you’re in the Sons of Steel Row,” I said, not needing to explain further. “Why did you help me?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. Averting his gaze, he dropped his arm back at his side. “Does it matter? Would you have rather I ignored it and let them attack you?”
“Of course not,” I whispered.
“Then let’s go.” He tipped his head. “Up there. My place.”
I blinked at the mechanic shop. “You live where you work?”
“Above it.” His thumb brushed over my knuckles. “You need to come up with me. He’ll be back with others, and I want you outta sight.”
“I’ll be—”
“Now, Heidi.”
He pulled me behind him, ignoring me completely. I could argue, but I didn’t really see the point. If he wanted to play knight in shining armor, then I could let him. For tonight, anyway. I was fine, now that I’d gotten over my initial shock, but he seemed to be worried, which was . . . sweet. Really freaking sweet.
And unexpected for a ruthless killer.
I snorted internally. The dude had just killed two guys in front of me, and I was thinking how sweet he was? What kind of crazy juice had I gotten into?
He unlocked his door and held it open for me. I peeked inside at the unlit staircase, swallowing past the fear that remained lodged in my throat. After what had happened earlier, I needed light to chase away the shadows. Lots of it.
As if he could hear my thoughts, he switched on the hallway light. “Go on in.”
I fisted my hands and climbed the stairs. “You don’t have to do this. I’m fine, I swear. I’ve handled worse than that on my own before.”
“That’s not right. From what I saw, that was pretty fucked-up. Someone like you—you should never have to deal with that, let alone anything worse. Ever.” He followed me up the stairs. “And you really shouldn’t try to take on three guys at once.”
“Thanks for the tip,” I said, stopping at the second door, which stood at the top of the stairs. It was dark blue, like the walls. “Next time I’ll politely request they come at me one at a time, as good guys should.”
He stopped directly behind me, his hard chest brushing my back. Despite everything I’d been through, I was all too aware of his very being. “There won’t be a next time.”
Annoyance crept up my spine. “What should I have done? Cowered in the corner? Begged for my freedom? My virtue? My life?”
“I don’t know.” He flexed his jaw. “All I know is one girl against three men is not a fight you can possibly win.”
“But I can try,” I argued. “What would you have done if it was you?”
He opened the door, turned the light on, and gestured me inside. “The same damn thing I did when it wasn’t.”
“Exactly,” I said, rubbing my arms and glancing around. He had a couch, a coffee table, a TV, and a table. That’s it. But it was clean. Really clean. I’d expected it to be messy. Not a single thing looked out of place. “So why expect anything different from me?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he walked into the kitchen and washed his hands. I followed him, watching the water turn pink from all the blood he washed off. When he was finished, he dried off and then turned to me. The force of his stare made my heart quicken. A silent communication happened between us. Despite his notorious name and his past, he couldn’t stand seeing me get hurt, and no matter what he said, that meant something. He might not think of himself as a hero, but he’d been heroic tonight.
He stepped closer and skimmed his hands down my arms. I shivered but held my ground. “What are you doing
?”
“Checking for injuries,” he murmured. His low voice did weird things to my body. “You could be in shock and might not feel the pain.”
I forced back a groan. He might be trying to help, but he was killing me with those light touches of his. He was also making me feel like I mattered to him, but men like him didn’t care about other people. “I’m okay.”
And I was now. Especially here, with him.
“I’ll decide that for myself.” He clutched my hands. “Squeeze my fingers.” I squeezed. “Good.” Kneeling at my feet, he gently ran his hands over my legs, steering clear of my inner thighs. I had shorts on, so his fingers never touched my skin up there, but I could feel his heat straight through the denim. “Everything looks good.”
“That’s because it is.” I cleared my throat. “Your turn.”
He glanced up at me, brows raised. “For what?”
“Care.” I pointed at the couch. “Sit.”
His lips twitched. “Yes, ma’am.” He stood and walked over to the sofa, glancing over his shoulder at me as he went. “I’m fine, though.”
“You’re less fine than I am. Do you have a first-aid kit?”
He turned and headed for the other room. “Yeah. In the bathroom.”
“No, you sit. I’ll get it.”
He sat and watched as I crossed the room. I turned the light on in the bathroom, doing a quick once-over. It was as clean as the rest of the apartment. Blue walls again, freshly painted. I could still smell the slight scent of paint in the room. Guess I knew what his favorite color was.
“It’s under the sink,” he called out.
I opened the cabinet. A bunch of hydrogen peroxide and some scary-looking needles were under the sink, right next to the first-aid kit. I didn’t want to know what the needles were for. Swallowing, I grabbed the kit, closed the cabinet, and stood up. When I glanced up into the mirror, the image reflected back at me made the contents of my stomach churn. A woman who looked more like a girl, in a bloodstained torn tee. It was the tee that did it, and I didn’t want it on for another second. Didn’t want anyone’s blood on my hands, even if that somebody had been trying to kill me. Setting the kit down, I violently removed my shirt, walked to the kitchen, and shoved it into the garbage.
He still sat on the couch, but he watched me with heated eyes, his fingers gripping his knees. “Heidi, you need to put a shirt on,” he gritted out.
His eyes were dark, and he perched on the edge of the couch as if he was ready to pounce without a moment’s notice. The way he was looking at me, like I was actually his, should have pissed me off, especially on the heels of what had happened just minutes before. On a normal day, I hated dominant men who thought they could control women once those women were “theirs.”
But right now, it didn’t piss me off.
It absolutely didn’t.
CHAPTER 5
LUCAS
I tightened my hands on my knees, fighting the impulse to cross the room and take the rest of her clothes off. I knew why she’d taken her shirt off. Through the open bathroom door, I’d seen the horror on her face when she saw the blood on the fabric. But, damn it, she was wearing only a sheer black bra and a pair of tiny shorts that looked as if they’d been painted on.
It was enough to tempt a saint, and I was no fucking saint.
My mind might know why she was half-naked, but my body hadn’t gotten the memo. It hadn’t even been in the same damn office as my brain at the time of delivery.
I knew she had to be shaken up from what those pricks in the alley had wanted to do, but I still couldn’t take my eyes off her. Her hair cascaded down her back, inexplicably curling at the ends. Those blue eyes I’d been fantasizing about didn’t have the same sparkle in them that they’d had earlier, and that pissed me off.
Those little assholes had stolen her sparkle.
She watched me, her dimples currently hidden. Her large breasts were clearly visible through the fabric of her bra, and she didn’t even bother to try to hide her rosy nipples from me. Her hard rosy nipples, which were practically begging for my mouth.
Jesus, Joseph, and Mary, she was trying to kill me.
Her waist tapered in, and her generous hips flared out. Hips that were meant for a man’s hands to hold while he was making her scream out his name.
No, not a man.
This man: me. Only me.
The shorts clung to the curves of her ass and her upper thighs, leaving the rest of her legs bare all the way down to her blue Converse sneakers. And she was in my apartment. Staring at me.
“Heidi . . .”
She fidgeted with her hands in front of herself. “Okay, in retrospect, maybe I shouldn’t have done that. But I couldn’t wear that shirt for another second. You know?”
Something twisted hard in my chest at her choked words. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear it was my heart. But I knew I didn’t have one anymore. I had a hunch that her admission hadn’t come easily to her. It wouldn’t have come easily to me, either.
She and I were a lot alike.
Standing up, I crossed the room and cupped her cheeks, brushing a thumb over her split lip. The gesture was tender and way too gentle for me, but I couldn’t help it. Not when she looked so scared and uncertain. “It’s okay, darlin’. I’ll get you a shirt.”
“Thank you,” she said, still not looking away from me.
Reluctantly, I let her go and walked into my bedroom. Grabbing my favorite shirt, I handed it to her, balled up in my fist. “Here.”
She took it, a small smile lighting up her pale face. “Blue. Of course.”
“Yeah.” I cocked a brow. “And?”
“You like blue,” she said.
I did, but I couldn’t remember telling her that. “Put it on.”
“Oh. Right.” She slipped it over her head. After she had her arms through the holes, she hugged it close and whispered, “Thank you, Lucas.”
It was the first time she’d willingly used my name. I liked the way it sounded on her lips. All soft and sweet and seductive. But the way she looked at me, with her sparkling blue eyes, made my stomach clench tight and roll into one big knot. “Don’t look at me like that.”
She blinked her blue eyes at me. “Like what?”
“Like I’m your hero or something.” I tugged on my hair and glanced away. “It’s not like I saved you out of the goodness of my heart. I don’t have one anymore. I’m not that guy. I’m the type of guy that attacks people in alleys—not the other way around.”
She shook her head, those blue eyes never leaving me. “Your halo may be tarnished, yet you still saved me. That means more than if you were the hero type.”
Again, something twisted in my chest. She was trying to turn me into a pansy, and I wasn’t going to let her. “No. It doesn’t.”
“Sit down.” She gestured to the couch impatiently. “I need to clean that wound.”
Without arguing, I sat down. She sat on the table in front of me, situating her legs on either side of mine. It took a hell of a lot of control not to grip her thighs and spread them even wider for me. “You’re mine now.”
She pulled out the pad soaked in rubbing alcohol, ripping the packet open. “Excuse me?”
“What I mean to say is that since I claimed you as mine, you have to pretend to be with me. Bitter Hill is gonna check into my claim, guaranteed.” I closed my eyes, letting her fuss over me. It burned like a bitch, but I didn’t make a peep. I didn’t need her to take care of me, but I had a feeling she needed to take care of me. To calm her nerves. So I let her. “You need to be mine now.”
“So romantic,” she muttered under her breath.
“I’m not asking you to actually hook up with me,” I said, my voice hard. “I’m not a relationship type of guy. I don’t do love, or the whole boyfriend shit.”
She laughed. “Yeah. I kinda got that impression already.”
“I like variety in my life,” I said, opening my eyes. She watched me with a softn
ess I hadn’t managed to chase away yet. But eventually I would. I always did, in the end. “You’re doing it again.”
She threw her hands up. “You can’t tell me how I’m allowed to look at you, for the love of God.”
“Actually, I—”
“I’m not one of your crew who you can just boss around, Lucky.” She pulled out the Neosporin, squirted it on her finger, and rubbed it into the gash on my head. I barely kept from wincing. “What’s it like?”
“What’s what like?” I muttered.
“Having everyone in Steel Row terrified of you and the Sons?”
I could give her a cocky answer. Say it was the way the whole world should be. But I didn’t want to give her the generic answer I gave everyone else. “It’s the way my life’s been since I was fourteen. It’s all I’ve known since, and all I’ll ever know.”
Without welcome, the bag I’d packed came to mind. It reminded me I didn’t have to stay. But the thing was—now I did. I’d gone down there and claimed her as mine. She needed my protection, or they’d rip her to shreds.
I couldn’t run now.
“But you don’t like it?” she asked, pulling out a Band-Aid now.
I wasn’t answering that question. We weren’t schoolgirls bonding over a makeover, for fuck’s sake. Why did she give a damn if I was happy or not? How was I supposed to even know what that felt like? “I don’t need a Band-Aid. What am I, six?”
“It’ll get infected.”
“I’ll be fine.” I stood and walked over to the window, minus the Band-Aid. Movement in the alley behind her bar caught my eye. “Cleanup is here.”
She came up beside me, her breaths becoming shallow when she saw the men below. “What will they do with the . . .?”
“Corpses,” I offered, mildly amused at her discomfort with the idea of them being dead. To me, it was just another day on the job. “I don’t know and I don’t care.”
Dare To Run (The Sons of Steel Row #1) Page 5