Page 79 of Secondhand Soul

“Oh, God, mind your business. This isn’t the time to be a ‘girls’ girl’ or whatever you wanna call it. This is a discussion between mature adults that drunken goth chicks don’t need to stick their noses in. Come on, Allie. We’ll talk in my car.”

His hand latches onto Allie’s elbow, and I step out, still quiet, the way big cats move without making a sound.

Part of me thinks I should intervene. Victoria’s much better, but she doesn’t need new injuries if this guy lands a lucky punch.

Allie shrugs down hard and snaps, “Leave me alone, Gavin! Leave. Go upstairs and drive off. I’m texting Kara to pick me up.” With her arm freed, she reaches for her phone, and her boyfriend (ex-boyfriend, I guess) snags it from her and stuffs it in his pocket.

“You’re such a baby, Allie. All you do is avoid confrontation.”

Another step. The woman sees me. Her eyes fix on me, wide, surprised.

Gavin’s gaze turns towards me, too.

It’s a mistake.

Victoria is a blur of white legs and slipping black straps, two fists chopping down hard—bam-bam!—against the guy’s windpipe as her leg shoots up.

Gavin is flat on his back, clutching his neck with one hand and his crotch with the other, making a gargling squeak that I think is just gorgeous. A symphony of pain, delivered to a worthy jerk, courtesy of my gorgeous, lethal Victoria.

I think that means my role is to get the girl somewhere safe. “Don’t kill him,” I tell Victoria as she passes me Allie’s retrieved phone. Then, I whisk Allie away, guiding her ahead of me with a muttered, “You have a ride to call?”

“Uh-huh. He’s not usually... He’s not always... He’s not like this all the time,” she tries on three lies to see which one fits best.

“No, just on Christmas Eve when you’re about to part ways for a few weeks? Real prince. You can do better. Lots better.”

“He wouldn’t have hurt me,” she murmurs.

“Are you lying to me, or to yourself? Because I don’t give a fuck.” I push her up the last few steps and onto the main floor of the bar. “Call your ride and block that guy’s number.”

Liam, the reformed incubus who tends bar part-time, rushes over, baseball bat in hand, polished black nails and wide eyes rimmed with too much eyeliner. “What’s going on, my little yuletide treats?” He somehow manages to sound fluffy and fabulous while looking like he’s about to knock someone’s head off.

“Handsy asshole downstairs. My girlfriend is handling it,” I shrug.

Girlfriend.

Is that what she is?

I preen. “My girlfriend don’t need a bat. But I’m missing the show. Make sure this one gets out okay.” I jerk my head to the shaken-looking Allie.

“I’ll do that. If you leave blood on the floor, you clean it up. I’m closing soon, and I don’t want my vacation to start with mopping up the red stuff.” Liam flounces off, pulling Allie with him. “Come on, sweetheart. I’ll get you a nice cup of cocoa while the bouncers do their thing.” He winks at me.

Hm. Victoria could definitely do that job.

But she doesn’t want to.

I hurry back downstairs in time to see Gavin take a clumsy swing at her. What he lacks in finesse, he makes up for in sheer rage and entitlement. If his throat weren’t swollen from Victoria’s first blows, I have a feeling he’d be saying something like, “How dare you hit me! No girl can lay a finger on me!”

Which would make me laugh out loud, not just enjoy the sinful little chuckle I’m enjoying as Victoria lays all ten of her pretty fingers on him, grabbing him as he reels forward, overbalanced, and using his momentum to sling him headlong into a wall.

He slowly slips down it, his face dragging along the wall like a melting cartoon character.

Victoria plants her feet over him, hands on her hips. “My boyfriend told me not to kill you. A woman doesn’t always have to do what a man wants. He doesn’t own her. She doesn’t owe him. It’s all about respect.”

“I respect the hell out of you, baby. Especially when I get to watch you work,” I praise when I exit the stairway. “Don’t kill him, please. I want to spend our first Christmas Eve together somewhere nice. Not answering questions at the police station.” I can hear the smirk in my voice, and I hope the bastard on the ground can, too.

“Ohh. But, sweetie. You have so many places we could hide the body.” She pouts with a wink.

The floored Gavin whimpers.