“You can just let me out here. You don’t need to park.”

“Shush. We’re not done with this conversation. Besides, I’m fully capable of parallel parking.”

I bit my lip and said nothing as Vanessa attempted the parking job three times. On the fourth try, she finally slid into the spot. She didn’t waste a second before putting the car in park and turning to me. “So you’re not sleeping with him yet? It’s been over a day since he and Con had the talk, and he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to waste time. I call bullshit.”

Oh hell. Bulldog Vanessa is coming out to play, and I’m the target.

“I’m going to be late for work. I should go.” I reached for the door handle, but Vanessa slapped her hand over the lock button. I tugged on the latch and hit my own lock button. Nothing.

I jerked around to look at her.

“Seriously? Child locks?”

She raised a blond eyebrow in response. It clearly communicated one word: spill.

I sighed. “No. I’m not sleeping with him. Or fucking him in the stockroom. Or getting off in any way except self-help. Happy?”

“Are you going to?”

I thought about how drop dead sexy the man was. Did I want to? Hell yes. But things would get exponentially more complicated after. And still…

“Of course. How could I say no to that?”

Vanessa smiled, and then it slipped away. “Just be careful, okay? You’re both important to me. No matter what happens or doesn’t, I’m going to love you both, but … just be careful.” Vanessa’s words were sincere, and it reminded me once again why I was so lucky to have her in my life. For some people, it was the family they’d been born into who looked out for them and hit the child lock button when a come-to-Jesus talk was in order. For others, it was the family they’d chosen themselves.

“I will, I promise. Love you too, Van.”

“You’ll call me if you need me?”

“You know I will, babe.” I grabbed the door handle again. “Now I really am going to be late for work.”

Vanessa laughed and hit the button, granting me freedom.

I climbed out of the car, shut the door, and waved as she pulled away. Turning, I began walking the hundred or so feet to the door of Chains. I only had about ten yards to go when a sharp voice stopped me.

“Dayum, baby. I can see why Rix wants you so fuckin’ bad. Those curves could stop traffic. Makes me wanna peel that dress off you and see ’em for myself.”

I froze, even though instinct told me to keep walking toward the door. My feet were riveted to the sidewalk at the sight of the man stepping out from between the buildings. His jeans hung low, and his grayish-white wife beater had seen better days. Black ink circled the dark skin of his bicep and snaked down his arm, ending in what looked like the head of a cobra.

Why was I noticing his tat? I should be running for the safety of the shop. I gripped my purse tight to my chest and stepped forward. But he sidestepped, and his arm shot out.

“Where ya going, baby? Leaving so soon? I just wanna talk wit’ ya. See what has Rix so fucked up over ya.”

“Please move out of my way. I need to get to work.” I kept my tone serious, assertive. I was not backing down.

The smile on his face faded into a harsh flat line—and just like that, his attitude flipped. “You can go when I say you can go, bitch.”

“Charming,” I mumbled.

“’scuse me? You say somethin’?”

I bit my tongue. Literally—and hard. The tang of copper filled my mouth. But even that didn’t stop my ill-advised words. “I said that’s just charming. If this is your way of—” The mini tirade that was brewing and boiling over out of me cut off prematurely when the ’Cuda slammed to a stop—double parked and facing the wrong direction—a few feet to my right.

The door flew open, and Lord was out and on the sidewalk before I could completely comprehend what was happening.

“Get inside the store, Elle,” he said. His eyes—blazing blue and flaring with anger—landed on me for only a fraction of a second before spearing the man with the cobra tattoo. I decided not arguing was in my best interest.

I tried to go around the guy, but he sidestepped with me again and continued to block my way.

“Back off, man. Right the fuck now.” Lord’s voice had dropped to a growl, and the man’s attention jumped from me to Lord. I took the opportunity to dodge around him and race for the door. Part of me wanted to stay on the sidewalk, listening in on what was sure to be an enlightening ass-ripping, but I was too shaken to enjoy it.

Their voices were raised, and expletives flew back and forth as I reached Chains. Mathieu was already pushing the door open, probably wanting to know what was going on.

“Dude, Jiminy hassling you?”

Jiminy? Is he a fucking cricket handing out advice? Because he looked like a gangbanger with a gun shoved in the back of his boxers—which were riding much higher than his sagging jeans.

“Omigod. He’s got a gun,” I whispered to Mathieu.

The boy snorted. “Like Lord don’t? He can take care of himself. Fuck, he don’t need a gun to take Jiminy out. He could kill him a dozen different ways with his bare hands. Spec Ops, you know? That ain’t for pussies.” Mathieu’s words were all colored with undeniable pride. His chest puffed up, and he added, “Plus, I’ve always got his back.”

For a moment I’d forgotten how capable Lord was. He was trained to kill. Had killed. That didn’t scare me. Actually, it was kind of … comforting.

Mathieu swore, and I focused my attention again on what was playing out on the sidewalk.

Jiminy was reaching for his gun. Lord grabbed the gun and his arm, whipped him around, and pinned him face first on the sidewalk before even a whisper of the scream building in my lungs could escape my lips. Lord crouched low, his face close to the man’s—which was pressed to the broken concrete. Neither of us could make out what he was saying, but I could see twisted anger on Jiminy’s smashed face. And then in a blink, Lord dragged him up to his feet by the scruff of his neck, as though he weighed nothing. Jiminy’s lips started to move, but Lord tossed him against the side of a beat-up Tahoe parked at the curb and turned toward the shop. He never looked back.

Lord was only a half dozen feet away when he said, “Told you to go inside, Elle. You’d best do that now.”