Deadly Fear (Deadly #1)(35)

Damn, but he loved to watch her leave. Well, loved to watch that ass anyway. That sway was so nice. He’d take that view over any view of Donna every day of the week.

Monica pulled out her cell phone and tilted her head down. Probably already briefing Hyde. She always seemed to be checking in with him. After a moment, she vanished in the huddle of bodies.

He reached for his beer. Long day. Shit-tasting alcohol, but really, a beggar couldn’t choose.

The lip of the beer bottle touched his mouth, and he heard the shatter of breaking glass. The thud of flesh hitting flesh.

Monica.

He was on his feet in an instant, charging through the crowd. Another night flashed through his mind. Another bar. Another…

A woman screamed. Not Monica.

He shoved through a swarm of bodies and saw a redhead on the floor, her skirt twisted under her. Blood trickled from her lip.

“Fuckin’ cheatin’ whore!” A guy staggered, slipped, then lunged for her. “I’ll make you so…”

Luke tackled him. He slammed the drunk into the nearest table and felt the wood splinter and crash beneath them.

The man’s elbow clipped Luke hard, right under the eye, and the bastard roared as he twisted and rolled.

He was a big one. Tall, thick with fat and muscle, and the guy was a fighter.

Big and Meaty swung a ham-sized fist at Luke’s face. Definitely a fighter.

Luke dodged, then kicked out of the tangle of wood and limbs. He jumped to his feet and raised his arms. “Look, buddy, you don’t want to do this, I’m a—”

A snarl. A long, low, barely human snarl, then the drunk attacked.

Luke struck out, catching the guy in the jaw. His turn. Hard and fast. The dude staggered a bit, but didn’t go down.

The woman started sobbing, then she lunged for Luke. “Leave him alone!”

Leave him alone?

Christ.

He tried to shake her off, even as the bull got ready for another attack.

The guy came at him, slamming his fist into Luke’s gut while the woman held on with all her strength. Doesn’t pay to be a boy scout.

He kicked the bastard right in the groin.

“Fuck!” The guy’s high scream. The bigger they are, the harder they—

The woman dug her nails into Luke’s back. “Dammit, I’m with the FBI, you can’t—”

The bull was back on his feet. Breathing hard and balling his hands into fists. Not standing fully, probably couldn’t.

Catcalls came from the crowd. Some cheers.

No help. Of course not.

“Shouldn’t have got between Charlie and Lynn.…”

“Poor bastard.”

Luke figured he was the poor bastard in question. Great. He shook off the redhead and tried one more time to reach for his ID.

But Charlie took a swing at him.

Luke swung right back. His fist connected, Charlie’s didn’t, and the guy staggered.

What does it take to get this guy down?

“Aahhhh!” Great. Now the woman was screaming and charging him and—

“Freeze!” Monica’s shout, full of icy rage. “FBI. Don’t even think of taking another step.”

And for her, both Charlie and Lynn stilled. Their eyes widened. Their shoulders sagged.

Luke brushed off the bits of broken glass that clung to his arms. Not real sure where the glass came from.

He took his time crossing to her side. She was armed, her gun out and aimed.

“Call the sheriff,” she barked at the bartender. “These two have just assaulted a federal agent.”

“Wh-what?” Charlie shoved a hand through his thinning hair. “He ain’t no—he didn’t say—”

Oh, for f*ck’s sake. Luke bent down and scooped up the ID that had been knocked from his fingers. “FBI, *.”

Monica looked at him. Shook her head. “Two minutes,” she muttered when he drew close, and she didn’t lower her gun. “I was gone for two minutes.”

He licked his lip, tasted blood, and said, “Helluva lot can go down in two minutes.”


That eye would be black soon. Monica stood at the bar, watching as Luke lifted a rag filled with ice and pressed it to his already darkening left eye.

Her gaze skated across the room, to the redhead with the torn shirt that the sheriff was leading out of the bar. Monica sighed. “You’re always trying to save the ladies.” His M.O. As long as she’d known him, the guy had carried this rescue complex.

He turned toward her, sending droplets of water flying from his makeshift icepack. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She lifted her brows. “It means every time you see a woman that you think is in trouble, you jump in—”

“He hit her.”

“She’s not going to press charges against him.” The woman kept calling good old Charlie’s name and saying everything had been a mistake. Maybe her face had mistakenly gotten in the way of Charlie’s fist.

Luke’s Adam’s apple clicked as he swallowed. “She damn well should. If she doesn’t get away from him, he’ll kill her one day.” Grim certainty.

And something else. Pain. An old echo. Personal. Her head tilted. “Luke? There something going on here?”

He lowered the ice. “Fucking makes me sick. Every time I see a guy punching a woman.”