Page 32 of Protective Heroes

I held back and watched, curious as to how she’ll handle the attention her solo show has garnered from a few assholes edging closer to her—arrogant smirks on their faces.

Her pert little nose wrinkled as she listened to the guys circled in front of her. Years of drilled-in training to protect and serve flared to life hot and fast as I watched those assholes all but posing for her, each working to capture her attention.

Not that I blamed them. She looked like a fucking queen next to a group of filthy peasants compared to the other women lounging around her. Of course, all those frat boys would flock to her. My eyes raked over the sweet dips and tender curves again. She held my gaze for far too long. Only years of discipline finally shook me back to reality. She wasn’t my mission.

Shit.

I still needed to find Evie Davidson. Ignoring my hungry dick, I pulled out my phone and glanced at the grainy picture and blinked.

Holy shit.

I hadn’t given the picture more than a cursory glance earlier. I’d taken in the details that would help me identify her but as I stared at it now, I realized the picture had failed to capture the reality of her beauty in the flesh. The woman I’d been lusting after, along with all those other assholes, was none other than Evie Davidson.

Fuck me.

But as I watched, it wasn’t just my dick that was standing up and taking notice. A sixth sense that has kept me out of a coffin for longer than I deserved kicked into overdrive when I caught an exchange between five of the guys standing around her.

They broke off from the rest, huddled up and then all nod like they have a plan in place.

My hackles raised.

Their body language slowly shifted as they talked, going from casual to something tenser, more menacing.

I wind my way through the growing crowd, as the older guys sent the other frat assholes scurrying to refill drinks or flirt with one of the plastic girls with a jerk of their chins.

These guys were obviously used to having their orders followed. My guess, they all had rich daddies who bought their way out of trouble on the regular.

My gaze shifted back to Evie. I saw the ice princess's expression change as her gaze followed the guys walking away only to come back and focus on the five guys.

Her expression went from indulgent, maybe a little bored, to something else in a heartbeat.

Perceptive.

Her berry red lips parted, as she pushed up her sunglasses to rest atop her head. From here I witnessed the brown of her eyes darken with fear. She knew these guys meant her harm, and for an instant, her gaze frantically chased the guys walking away. Her gaze darted around the atrium, obviously seeking someone who would help her when these shitheads made their move.

And for a brief second she noticed me. Our gazes locked, but she failed to recognize the real threat and it wasn’t a group of ballers thinking they were all hot shit.

A few partygoers sent nervous glances her way, but then immediately turned their backs. Every last one of them continued with their drinking and flirting, oblivious, or pretending to be oblivious, to the action on the other end of the pool.

My ice princess gripped the arms of the chair she sat in so hard, her knuckles turned white.

I picked up my pace.

She gave in to the fear for a brief second, panic sliding through her eyes. But then something happened. Her expression changed, shuttered, hiding her emotions from the guys. She stood up and squared her shoulders, facing down the men.

Pride swelled in my chest as I watched the shift she made from bratty sorority girl to warrior ice queen. She knew she wasn’t going to get help from her friends, but every line of her body told those five douche bags she wasn’t going down without a fight. Fierce protectiveness clawed its way through me.

These assholes might have thought they had the upper hand against someone half their size, but they had no idea the world of trouble they’d bought themselves as they moved toward her. Their daddies wouldn’t be paying their way out of things this time. And it would be my pleasure to teach them that lesson. The hard way.

My woman. I didn’t stop to think of where that thought came from. I just got the first guy in my crosshairs and landed a solid fist against a firm jaw.

Two hundred pounds of college frat boy hit the deck with a thud.

Before he struck the ground, his closest buddy joined him, grabbing at his broken nose.

“What the fuck, man?” he squealed.

“Call your daddy and tell him to book a plastic surgeon for your pretty face ASAP, douche. I’ll leave a note at the front as to why when he shows up to collect your sorry asses.”

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