Don't Rush Me (Nora Jacobs #1)(23)

The stillness is shattered when the sound of a motorcycle cuts through the air and purrs to a stop outside. Moments later, the front door bursts open and in strolls—and I do mean strolls—a tall, black-haired, chocolate-eyed, dimple-faced, mocha-skinned stranger dressed in cowboy boots, tight jeans, and a tight gray Nirvana T-shirt under a black leather jacket.

The stranger stops walking when Terrance snarls a warning at him. He takes one look at the troll, and his mouth pops open and his eyebrows climb his forehead. His eyes rake curiously over me, stopping on my face. I’m sure it’s bruised and swollen all to hell and a trickle of blood is streaking from my nose.

The man looks at Terrance again and smirks. “Interesting.”

I snort a laugh at the casual understatement and then curse when my face explodes in more pain.

The stranger’s lips twitch, and his eyes spark with humor. I’m torn between laughing again and flipping the man off. I settle for giving him the finger because it hurts less. The man bursts into laughter and heads for the bar. “I like her, Terrance.”

The endless pools of nothingness that used to be Terrance’s eyes track the new guy’s movement across the room. The troll growls again and hovers on his toes as if readying to pounce. Terrance is on the brink of ripping the stranger apart limb by limb, but the guy does nothing more than grin at him and grab one of the few bottles still in tact behind the bar. No one else has dared to move yet.

I stare, bewildered, as the man pours himself a shot of something with a bluish glow, and kicks it back in one gulp. I can’t look away. I mean, a scary-looking black cowboy-rock star with a baby face and dimples? Really? Strangely enough, it works for him. Though, with the amount of confidence he’s radiating, I’d bet anything would work for him. But who the hell is this guy that he can walk in like he owns the place and pour himself a drink while Henry’s a bloody mess on the floor and Terrance is…whatever he is.

The man scans the room again, taking in every detail this time, and cocks his eyebrow when he notices Henry. He reaches for the bloody stake and looks at me. “I take it this was your handiwork?”

I slowly pull myself into a sit. If this guy can move around without Terrance going berserk, then so can I. Once I’m upright and the room has stopped spinning, I shrug at the new guy. “He was going to turn me.”

The stranger grins. “Nice aim, but a word to the wise. Next time use an ash-wood stake. It’s the only kind that’ll get the job done. That, or cut off his head. Fire works with vamps, too. That’s about it.”

I smirk, even though it hurts my face. “Good to know.”

The man winks at me, then turns his playful smile on Terrance. “How you doing, buddy? Calming down yet? Your little charge there looks like she’s not feeling too good. Enzo’s on call right now. You rein it in a bit, and we can meet him over at the Agency and get her all patched up.”

“Stay out of this, Gorgeous,” Henry snaps suddenly. Parker helps him sit up and Terrance growls again, but it’s not quite as menacing as before. He must be calming down a little.

“Nora is my responsibility. I’ll take her to my own healer—”

Henry’s cut off by another vicious snarl, and I’m scooped up into Terrance’s arms so fast I lose my breath.

“Yeah…” Gorgeous says to Henry. “Doesn’t look to me like that’s happening.” If his smugness wasn’t directed at Henry, I might find his arrogance annoying. Instead, the guy is my hero.

“She’s still mine. I’ve claimed her for a mate.”

Gorgeous chews on this new bit of information. He holds up the blood-soaked stake to examine it in the light and then points the tip at Henry. “Seems to me she’s not too interested in becoming your mate.”

“Not at all,” I clarify cheerfully. “He’s holding me against my will.”

Henry glares at me, then scowls so hard at Gorgeous his eyes start to turn red again. Whether he doesn’t like what Gorgeous said or he simply doesn’t like the man himself, I can’t tell. But it’s clear Mr. Gorgeous loves to irk Henry.

“She’s human,” Henry says indignantly. “Claiming her is my right. I don’t care if she triggered Terrance’s protective instincts. He can’t just take what is mine.”

“Well, I’m sure as hell not going to argue with him while he’s in that state, so why don’t we all head down to the Agency, get the pretty human all healed up, and sort this mess out with the director?”

“What agency?” I ask. “Director of what? Who are you? And…is your name seriously Gorgeous?”

Gorgeous grins at me like I’ve just made his entire day. “Can you think of a more appropriate name?”

I snort again and then wince. The guy needs to stop making me laugh. “Conceited much?”

“And proud of it.” He pulls a leather ID wallet from his pocket and tosses it to me. I’m still cradled like a baby in Terrance’s arms, but I manage to catch the ID.

“Nick Gorgeous, at your service. I work for the Federal Underworld Agency. The F U Agency for short.”

I roll my eyes at his stupid acronym—though it’s admittedly more entertaining than S.H.I.E.L.D.—and focus on the more important fact. This guy’s a cop. An underworld cop. Like an FBI agent or something. I didn’t even know that existed.