“In the bathroom. But you’ll have to get in line. Couple other truckers followed him in there for a quickie.”
Jesus H. Christ.Gunner charged down the aisle on full battle alert. He slipped into the bathroom low and fast, his blood ice cold in his veins.
Chas stood with his back against a wall beside the sinks. He stood in a boxer’s stance, his fists up defensively, and he looked as if he was getting ready to kill these guys.
“Can I help?” Gunner asked lightly.
“With what?” Chas asked back coolly.
“Beating the shit out of these assholes.”
The two burly truckers crowding Chas spun around, scowling. They looked Gunner up and down, obviously weighing whether they could take him.
“Don’t try it, boys. I’m an active-duty Navy SEAL, and my hands are considered lethal weapons. Consider yourself officially notified that I will fuck you up bad—or kill you—if you attack me.”
One of the truckers snorted in disbelief, but the other looked a little less sure of himself.
Disbeliever demanded, “What team you on?”
“That, my friend, is none of your business. Which one do you want to take to school, Chasten?”
“I’ll take the one on the left.”
“Any bets on how long it’ll take to drop them both?”
“Are we going for unconscious or in need of an ambulance?” Chasten asked casually.
“Your call.”
Chas nodded. “Ambulance.” He moved smoothly around the undecided truckers to stand shoulder to shoulder with Gunner, then murmured, “Show them your knife.”
Chas had seen the Ka-Bar field knife he kept strapped in an ankle sheath, had he? In one blindingly fast motion, Gunner reached for it and held it out in a fighter’s stance, low and deadly. “Now with this little beauty, I can give you the closest shave of your life… as well as carve my initials on your faces.” He gave the knife a couple of graceful swings in front of him that made it crystal clear he knew how to handle the blade.
Both of the truckers backed away.
Gunner sheathed the knife as smoothly as he’d drawn it and smiled politely at the two men as Chas opened the door and slipped out into the hall. “Have a nice evening, gentlemen. You drive safe out there.”
He followed Chas to the car and Poppy, and once on the road again, they headed south on the highway. Gunner’s hands shook on the steering wheel, and more than once rage nearly made him turn the car around to go back and kill those bastards.
Chas was pale and tense beside him. No surprise. Those truckers had thought they were going to gang rape the guy. Thank God he’d gotten there before things had become rough. Chas had always had fast hands in their martial arts classes down at the YMCA. Really fast. Which was a hell of an asset in a hand-to-hand fight.
“You okay?” he finally asked when chatterbox Chas continued to be silent and withdrawn beside him. He was kind of like Poppy, come to think of it. “Talk to me. Please. You’re scaring me.”
Chapter Seven
“I’M SCARINGyou?” Chas exclaimed. He stared across the interior of the vehicle at Gunner, whose jaw looked carved from the same granite as the old mountains they passed by outside. “You’re a SEAL. Hell, you pulled out a knife back there as casual as can be. What the heck do you have to be afraid of?”
Gunner snorted. “I’m scared shitless that something bad will happen to you and I won’t be there to protect you. Has anything like that happened to you before?”
Chas looked away, staring out his window into the night. “Yeah. Now and then. I make no secret of being gay. I’ve had to defend myself a time or two. I took up boxing when you left Misty Falls, you know. I can handle myself in a fight.”
“Have you been…?” Gunner hesitated and then said in a rush, “Have you ever been assaulted?”
“As in raped? No. But I’ve had to beat up the odd asshole now and again.”
“Who?” Gunner demanded. The cold steel in his voice was deeply gratifying. He sounded ready to kill whoever’d laid a hand on him.
“It’s old history. And I’m better at spotting and avoiding jerks than I once was. I’m tired tonight, though, so I wasn’t paying attention.”