Rescue Me

Gritting his teeth, he was halfway across the space when the first punch was thrown. The crunch of bone against bone echoed around him. Glass shattered on the wooden floor. One of the guys grunted, but Finn had no idea if it was the fool who’d thrown the punch or the idiot who’d taken it.

Unfortunately, it didn’t stop there. Stunned, the punchee shook it off, then threw one of his own, landing a solid uppercut followed by a body shot. The other guy doubled over.

Another bruiser entered the fray, and then a fourth. Fantastic, just what he needed, these knuckleheads drawing attention to themselves and tearing up the place.

Finn was right there, but not fast enough to prevent this from turning into a true clusterfuck. The situation was deteriorating quickly as buddies, fueled by alcohol and big egos, backed up their buddies.

The situation was bad enough, but it got ten times worse when he saw the bright flash of blond hair ahead of him.

Shit. Where had she come from?

“Tucker, don’t!” Finn hollered.

She glanced over her shoulder, saw him and frowned. But she also ignored him, turning away.

Goddammit.

She practically disappeared between the bruisers who were too busy slamming each other into the tables that had emptied around them to notice a woman shoving her way between them.

The first guy went to throw another punch, but Tucker stepped right in front. He was too drunk to react before his fist connected with her jaw.

Tucker’s head snapped sideways. She swore, the low, throaty hum of the sound reverberating through Finn’s chest and making his belly cramp. He watched, helpless, as her body crumpled to the ground.

Finn’s heart thumped erratically behind his ribs. A sense of impending doom he hadn’t experienced since coming home from Afghanistan overwhelmed him. They were going to trample her.

He found a burst of power, wading right between the flailing fists and brawling men, taking a couple of glancing blows across his ribs and shoulder that he didn’t even feel. Reaching down, he gripped Tucker and hauled her up.

Wrapping his arms around her, he pushed his way back out of the melee, using his broad body to protect hers as much as possible.

As he passed one of the bouncers who had threatened to throw him out earlier, Finn growled, “Get a handle on this.”

“Working on it. She okay?” the bouncer asked, nodding his head toward Tucker.

“Don’t know.” She wasn’t fighting him, which was a bad sign. What little he knew about the woman suggested she probably wasn’t one to take kindly to being hauled about. Something he had to respect. But she also wasn’t limp and lifeless, as he’d feared he might find her.

Confident the men Tucker had hired were capable of getting control now that they were close enough to the fight, Finn strode swiftly to the booth he’d been in minutes before. Duchess gave a low whimper, but was right behind him.

He eased Tucker down onto the vinyl seat, propping her against the wall before pulling back so he could look down at her.

He expected to find her a little dazed.

Instead, those dark blue eyes that always seemed to snag him raged with anger.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Twice now she’d growled those words at him. He was really starting to hate that question. “Saving your ass, darlin’.”

“My ass didn’t need saving. It’s perfectly capable of taking care of itself.”

“Didn’t look like it from where I was standing...looking down on you sprawled across the floor.”

Pulling her feet back, she tried to jerk up and sit straight.

Finn grasped her calves and pinned her legs right where they were. “Oh, no, you don’t.”

“Get your hands off of me.”

“Gladly, as soon as you promise to stay put.”

“I have to handle the situation.”

Finn threw a glance over his shoulder. Five bouncers had swarmed the area and were each manhandling a soldier in the general direction of the door.

“Your security team has it well in hand.”

“I’m sure they do, but that doesn’t mean I don’t need to be there. This is my place. It’s my responsibility.”

His lips twitched. “I imagine you pay good money for men who can handle this kind of thing for you. Let them earn their paychecks. You had the wind knocked out of you.”

He watched her little button nose scrunch up and her soft pink mouth twist into a grimace. A shudder ripped through her body and she finally sagged against the side of the booth. “God, I can’t believe I didn’t see that punch coming.”

Bowing her head, she started to probe along her cheekbone. He didn’t miss her wince. The skin was already starting to mottle. In a few hours she was going to have one hell of a bruise across her cheek.

“I’m damn impressed.”

Her gaze flashed up to him before dropping back to the table again. “Yeah, my guys are good. I only hire the best.”

“I wasn’t talking about your staff. I was talking about how well you took that punch. He was one hulking dude and put everything he had behind that hit.”

“My cheekbone is throbbing with the proof of that.”

“I know some pretty badass women, and I don’t think any of them could have taken that hit and still been coherent enough to hold a conversation with me right now. Why isn’t your brain rattled?”

She shrugged. “Not the first punch I’ve ever taken.”

Shit. For the second time tonight, Finn wanted to knock someone on their ass—preferably anyone who’d ever given Tucker bruises.

She must have registered where his brain had gone because she quickly said, “No. Not that way.” She scoffed, the rough sound scraping through her throat. “I’ve been involved in martial arts and self-defense off and on for years. I was raised by a single dad who believed in making sure his little girl could take care of herself.”

“Smart man.”

“He is. But that’s all I meant by not the first time I’ve taken a punch.”

Satisfied she was showing no signs of concussion, Finn turned away long enough to snag the arm of a passing waitress and request she bring him a towel or bag filled with ice.

He might not know her well, but even Finn realized it was a testament to just how much her cheek must be hurting that Tucker didn’t make some snide comment about him ordering her staff around. Or that after the waitress returned with some ice wrapped in a towel, she didn’t protest when Finn moved close, sliding his hip against hers, to place it against her cheek.

But she did hiss and jerk back in response to the pain and cold.