Page 4 of The Drag Race Debutante & the Detectives
Until the little shit lifted his fist to strike her.
In an instant, both he and Eric moved to intervene, but not before Emily got in a shot of her own and slapped Matthew’s cheek. The resounding crack of skin on skin was followed by a split second of silence, just enough time for her actions to register on her attacker’s face, right before his expression contorted with rage.
Again he lifted his hand to hit her, but Emily blocked the blow and landed another hit of her own, turning his rage to shock. “Want another one?” she demanded, raising her fists and shifting her feet into a defensive stance.
Dane was impressed, though he shouldn’t have been surprised. His sister, Karen—Emily’s future sister-in-law—had been teaching Emily self-defence. A skill she herself had learned at an early age.
Obviously deciding against tempting fate one more time, Matthew returned to scowling at all of them. “You two need to control your bitch.”
Eric folded his arms and chuckled. “Mate, the only bitch here is you.”
Dane copied his brother. “Yeah, better luck next time, Arsehole.”
The little shit glared at Emily for a long moment, then turned on his heel to leave, only to pull up short. “Where the fuck have you been?” he snapped.
“Move.”
The one word command had him scuttling to the side, revealing the man of the hour. Shane Spencer. Known to the cops for a litany of reasons, but mostly illegal drag racing, intimidation, supplying party drugs to teens, and sexual assault. He was a very bad man, and he was staring at Emily like she was his next meal.
“Well hello there, cutie. And what’s your name?”
Fuck.
Chapter Three
Emily immediately recoiled from the man standing in front of her. Unlike Matthew, who was about as intimidating as a paper straw, this guy oozed a vibe that screamed fuck around and find out.
And she did not want to find out.
Keeping an eye on the tattooed newcomer, she took a step back towards Eric and Dane before turning to face them, her shoulders slumped. The whole night had been a disaster. She’d been a complete idiot, had allowed her emotions to override her good sense more than once, and now she was just tired. “I wanna go home,” she said, conceding defeat.
She never should have been there. Never should have agreed to go on a date with Matthew, the lying creep. She’d known he wasn’t a particularly good guy—hell, the bloke had so many red flags he could stitch them into a Santa suit—but she’d been feeling abandoned and had greedily welcomed his attentions and the ego boost that had come with them. But she had also greatly overestimated her own abilities to play it cool in the face of danger.
Not to mention the fact she had potentially undone countless hours worth of work for Eric and Dane. Was that why they’d pulled back from her recently? Because they were working undercover? And she’d ruined everything with her foolishness.
Emily silently vowed then and there to make it up to them.
Somehow.
Eric held out his hand to her, his stern expression softening. “Let’s go home.”
“Not so fast.”
Emily squeaked as she found herself being yanked backwards and pinned against the solid wall of malice behind her, one hand fisted in her hair, the other sliding across her stomach as he held her in place against his lean, muscled frame.
“Where do you think you’re going, cutie?”
A second later, her eyes shot wide as Eric and Dane both whipped their arms up, guns held confidently in their outstretched hands and pointed at her captor’s head. Where the hell had they been hiding those?
“Let her go!” Dane demanded, his expression one of barely contained rage. Eric, on the other hand, looked to be his usual calm and in control self, and if not for his clenched jaw and the muscle ticking in his cheek, she’d almost be fooled by the façade. She’d known these two men for a year, had talked, socialised and flirted with them relentlessly in that time and thought she knew them well enough to know their every mood.
She was wrong.
Emily had seen them happy, excited, mildly irritated, cheeky, horny, and protective, but she’d never seen this expression before. She’d never seen them look like they were ready—and willing—to kill another human being.
She’d done that. Her selfishness had put that look on their faces. On the one hand she was grateful to have two such amazing men looking out for her. On the other, she’d be lucky if they even gave her the time of day again after such a colossal fuck up.
And she didn’t blame them one little bit.
