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While his arm turns awkwardly, I use all the weight I can to shove hard into his forearm, stressing all the joints in his arm and wrist the wrong way.
I love this kind of physicality way too much. Using leverage, turning the big biker’s strength and weight against him gives me a buzz. Especially alongside the danger.
There’s a sick part deep down inside of me that would love to be overcome. And all of what would follow that.
But this brute doesn’t stand a chance. He won’t get the better of me. His strength and weight could flatten me like a bug, but his mind is too slow to adapt.
His imagination and his frail, macho ego can’t cope with a woman dominating him physically. He has no responses for it.
His eyes flicker, baffled as they bulge from the pain as I bend his thumb back harder. He would be ready for my metal barstool across his ribs, or w whiskey bottle to his temples. Even a kick in the balls. But a twisted thumb is like he’s being insulted in a foreign language.
It’s outside his repertoire. Speed and surprise, and the unexpected are what I’m using to compensate for his strength and bulk. There’s nothing I can do about my size and weight, but I train in the skills the Israeli IDF and Mossad use and Brazilian martial arts, as well as all-out street fighting.
His wrist is strong. I whack the soft pressure point in the vulnerable part of his forearm to make it give. The wet crunch inside gives me a thrill that I should not enjoy. But I do.
Quickly, I yank his arm upward and behind his back, turning his wrist, hard.
With a yelp, he bends forward, howling as I stretch his hand up, high in the air. He lumbers, awkward like a stiff-legged bull.
Poor man lacks flexibility. He could obviously benefit from doing some yoga.
Erin, the huge security guard in a uniform black tux, comes barging through the swelling crowd of onlookers. He appears with a burly colleague, Joel, in his wake.
The biker lets out a rasping snarl as I haul his arm higher.
I snap my fingers high above my head as I tell him, “I hope you have good medical insurance.”
Passing the hand toward Erin, I tell him, “Here. Take out the trash.”
The three men as they rumble through the crowd. Noise and commotion follow them into the shadows and out the back. A few faces turn to stare at me. And the girl is staring.
She’s beautiful, in a lost-waif kind of a way. If I was into women, would she be my type?
The barman finally slides across to pour his lip-smacking gaze over me.
I tell him, “Cognac. Napoleon five star, not the stuff you have on the back shelf.”
He smirks. “What you see is what we have, ma’am.” His nostrils flare as he tilts his chin up.
He doesn’t know who I am.
I shake my head before I grab his neck through his collar and drag his head toward me. His eyes flash and burn. A sneer twists his top lip and his nostrils flare wide. With my other hand, I surprise him with a sharp whack on the back of his head. His face slams down into the bar, nose first.
“Do not try to fuck with me.” I yank his head up by his hair. He’s heavy. And strong.
And, yes, everybody’s still watching. And, no, I still don’t give a fuck. As soon as I let go of the barman, he hurries to fetch the bottle.
I tell him, “Pour it in a sparkling clean snifter.”
He reaches up for a big brandy balloon and he gives it a fast but thorough polish before he pours a large measure for me. While he does, I look across to see Erin nod to me as he returns, dusting his sleeves.
I beckon him. Erin gives me a slight grin that rekindles a small fire in my core as he arrives in a smart, no-nonsense rush. At least he still knows who I am.
“Erin,” I tell him, “Help this sorry excuse for a hospitality worker up to Stephano’s office.” I point at a leather shoulder bag on the shelf under the register. “And bring his satchel.”
While Erin steps behind the bar and noisily collects the barman, using a little more force than is absolutely necessary, I turn back to the girl.
She’s staring, wide-eyed with her chin almost on her heaving and very inviting chest. “Watch my drink and wait for me here,” I tell her. She nods. “I won’t be long.”
