Ruthless Salvation

2

“I suppose for the moment…” The young guy sitting at the end of the booth spoke up right before placing a resounding slap on my ass.

Bingo.

Creep.

His buddies responded with wide eyes and an uproar of laughter. Only one had the decency to look embarrassed.

I didn’t give him the gasp of shock and laughter he likely anticipated. It wasn’t the first time or even the twenty-first time a man had tried to take liberties with me. Instead, I gave him a look I liked to call the Smiling Assassin—a bright Southern grin with daggers in my eyes.

“Now, now, Chad. You don’t want to ruin your friend’s fun by getting all six of you kicked out, do you? And you certainly wouldn’t want everyone to know you’re too green behind the ears to know the rules at a place like this. You don’t touch the girls—any of us—unless given express permission. Understood?” That last word packed a condescending punch, accented by a single brow raise.

He lifted his hands in a plea of innocence. “Just having a little fun.”

“Well, if you try to have any more fun, it’ll be Blaze’s turn to have a little fun with you.”

His gaze followed mine to the mountain of muscle standing against the wall near the stage.

I rapped my knuckles on the table. “You boys enjoy. I’ll be back to check on you in a few.”

You didn’t have to work at a place like this for long to learn who the problematic customers were. Chad and his buddies weren’t even close. Now that I’d set them straight, they’d fall into line twittering the rest of the night about how they almost got thrown out of a strip club.

After checking on two other groups, I noted we were running low on cocktail napkins behind the bar, so I slipped away to the storeroom in the back. While scanning the shelves, I felt someone join me in the small room.

Torin.

Why did he always look so damn imposing in small spaces? His dominating presence filled up what little space his physical body left unoccupied until hardly any oxygen remained in the room.

“Hey,” I said on a shaky breath. “Everything okay?”

“That’s what I wanted to ask you. That guy put his hands on you?” he asked in a low, even tone.

Had he asked me this sort of thing a week ago—or even earlier tonight —I would have assumed he was just protecting his employee. But now, after that look he’d given me, questions surfaced. Was he being more protective of me than the other girls? Had this sort of thing been happening without me realizing? And why the heck did the prospect stir up a swarm of butterflies in my tummy rather than unease?

Sure, he was beyond beautiful. He had a way of lighting my insides on fire with a few simple words … and zero intent. No matter how hard I racked my brain, I couldn’t come up with a time he’d ever shown the slightest interest in me. Not even the hint of a flirtation since the day I started. If anything, I would have said I irritated the tar out of him.

Early on, I convinced myself it was best this way because the last thing I needed was to get involved with a man like him. Or any man, for that matter. Besides, he was my boss. That was the biggest no-no in the book. I loved working at Moxy and didn’t want to jeopardize that by making things awkward.

So why did the world seem to tilt on its axis when he was near?

Because he looks out for you, even if only out of a sense of duty, and there was a time when you were desperate for that sort of security.

True, but if he hadn’t been motivated in a professional capacity, did that change things? Shouldn’t that douse the flames he ignited in me? I wasn’t sure how I should feel, so I did what I’d been doing for the last six months since starting at Moxy and pretended to be unaffected.

“You don’t have to make a scene,” I told him. “No reason to scare people off just for an entitled punk.”

“I’m well aware I don’t have to do anything, and I’m pretty sure that’s not what I asked.” He took a slow, measured step forward, the intensity in the room flaring. “Did he put his hands on you?” Each word was controlled and concise yet brimming with chaos.

What the heck was going on?

I’d never seen Torin act so riled up. He was perpetually indifferent, at least on the surface. Even when he manhandled unruly customers, nothing ever seemed to test his tightly held control. He was so self-possessed and impassive that I’d even questioned whether my theory about an emotional undertow had been accurate. So what had changed? Or had this side of him always lurked in the shadows?

“Just once,” I answered quietly. “But Blaze is keeping an eye on him.”

“You talked to Blaze about it?”

“Yeah, I gave him a heads-up, just in case.”

I’d swear lightning flashed in his stormy eyes. Maybe I imagined it, but I definitely saw the flexing strain of his jaw muscles as he clenched his teeth. “Next time, you come directly to me.”

“I didn’t think there was any need to bother you and Keir.” “How about you let me be the judge of that, yeah?” I nodded, too dumbstruck for words.

“Words, Stormy. I need to hear them.”

“Yes. Next time, I’ll tell you.”

He grunted. “Now, you need something in here?”

“Oh … um, yeah.” I shook free of my daze and spun toward the shelves. “I was grabbing more napkins. There they are.” I spotted the blue and white box on the top shelf and quickly turned over a bucket at my feet to use as a step.

“I can get it—” He reached up for the box at the exact moment I stepped on the bucket.

“No, I can—”

We collided, knocking me off balance with a squeal. Torin’s arms clamped around my middle, pulling me back into him before I crashed to the ground.

“f**k’s sake, woman,” he grumbled, setting my feet back on the floor.

Then we stood there, his arms still firmly around me, my back to his chest, neither of us so much as breathing. Time itself stood still, save for the pulsing music filtering through the walls.