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“That could kill him,” said the man in the shadows.
“I’ll take my fucking chances.” She tried to help Baby Doll to her feet, but the woman backed away as if she were contaminated.
“I’m fine,” Baby Doll whispered.
Carmen held up the gun and the men parted to let Baby Doll pass, leaving her with George Wotherton’s unconscious son-in-law and a handful of witnesses.
“Get him the fuck out of here. If I see any of you in here again, I’ll consider it a challenge to find a creative way to end you,” she said.
The men glanced at each other before they edged forward. They picked up their wounded leader and retreated. She leaned against the wall as she trembled with rage.
“You move very well.”
She tightened her hold on the gun as the stranger spoke. She hadn’t realized he was still here. “What?”
“Your training is obvious.”
She tensed. “How much did you see?”
“Most of it. You’re quite impressive.”
“You watched? Why didn’t you help?” she demanded.
“Looks like you had it in hand.”
“I didn’t!”
“You did.”
“Show’s over. You can run along now.” So she could collapse. God, men fucking sucked. Baby Doll was so sweet. She didn’t deserve that. She needed to talk to Kiki, make sure the girls weren’t left alone when they were on the floor. Maybe they needed a guard over here …
“Do you take jujitsu?”
She turned her head to stare at the stranger. “Seriously?”
“I can’t help but be curious. That was some bloodthirsty rage you dished out.”
“He was forcing her.”
“And you’re a trained bodyguard?”
She let out a rusty laugh. After being put in her place by Marcus and almost screwing Angel, this was the icing on the cake. Beating the hell out of that fucking asshole felt good, but it wasn’t enough. If this guy hadn’t said anything, she would have pulled the trigger. Wotherton’s son-in-law would have been her third kill. She shook with the effort it took to stop from murdering him in cold blood.
“I’m from out of town. I heard this was the best place for action in the city. I don’t think I dressed right for this establishment.”
She glanced at him as he stepped into the light. At a glance, she pegged him as a middle-aged businessman. He wore a black pinstriped suit with his hair slicked back and a neatly trimmed thick beard.
“You’re overdressed,” she agreed.
He shifted in his suit as if it was too tight even though it fit him perfectly. “Some acquaintances of mine dress like this, and I thought I’d try it. It’s not comfortable.”
“You’re not a businessman?”
“No. I don’t know how they wear this every day.”
“What do you normally wear?”
“Much less.”
