Jacob sighed. He hoped to hell Hawke wasn’t f**king pretty little Faith. He would hate to have to kill the other man, but that tempting bit of woman was his now. She had dared to come looking for him, and now she had found him. He figured it was as good a time as any to finish what had tormented him for six long years. He couldn’t forget her, couldn’t let her go, and he was damned tired of waking deep in the night, hot and hungry for her.
“Do you need help, Faith darlin’?” he called out, wondering if she was aware he was there.
For a moment, silence filled the room. A sense of waiting as all eyes turned to him.
“You finally decide to show up, ass**le?” she asked him, the tense amusement in her voice almost hiding her nervousness.
“Your language has deteriorated, I can see,” he told her as he lifted a bottle of whisky from the bar and motioned to the bartender for a glass. “Should I await your pleasure, baby, or help you along here?”
He heard her snort at his choice of words. A defiant sexy sound that made his erection throb in anticipation.
“They’re worms. Give me five minutes and I’ll be right with you.” He almost winced at the thread of excitement that wove through her voice.
That little throb of expectation hadn’t been there before she learned he was watching the game displayed before him. She was a woman now, confident; she thought she was in control. That knowledge filled her voice and the loose-limbed, prepared stance of her body. Had he somehow been wrong all these years? Had Faith grown up, had she gotten past that long ago night and the pain he had dealt her?
He poured a double shot of the whisky. He had a feeling he was going to need it. For all the interest he had in the changes that had overtaken her, it was still a battle not to wade in and kill the stupid humans who thought they could mark what was his.
“You stay out of this, gringo,” one of the men warned him tightly, his scarred face twisted into a sneer. “This one, she is ours.”
The guttural, rough English of the Romeo wannabe had Jacob grimacing. He downed the liquid in his glass, wincing at the burn as it hit his throat.
“Go for it.” He waved the glass towards them. “If you can take it.”
As though his permission was all that was required, the six attacked. Jacob forgot the glass and tilted the bottle to his mouth as Faith and Hawke met the surge of sweaty, dirty bodies that converged on them. If he didn’t dull the rage boiling inside him, then there was no way he would manage to let Faith take care of this little problem herself.
He turned, leaning back against the bar, and watched with narrowed eyes. Growls, human and canine filled the room. Surprised cries of male pain followed, as Faith became an animalistic fighting machine. And Hawke was no slouch. With a mix of Asian fighting techniques, dirty grassroots redneck kicks, and snarling teeth, the two Breeds fought the determined lusts of the South America bullies.
It wasn’t a pretty fight. Jacob tipped the bottle to his mouth, his fingers clenched, his body filled with the need to kill as one bastard fought to hold Faith down to a table. A knee to the groin, and the flat of her palm to his nose convinced him otherwise. In surprise, Jacob watched as the two hundred plus pounds of male crumpled to the floor. He lifted his brows in amazement as the man then stayed there. One down, five to go. She’d better hurry, the stink of their lust was making him crazy to jump in and destroy them.
“Bastard. That was a new jacket,” Faith cursed as Jacob heard the rend of cloth.
A shattered male scream followed. Angling his head to see better, he grimaced at the white knuckled grip she had on one man’s crotch. She twisted. The bastard paled and went to his knees as she released him, crumpling over as he began to vomit disgustingly.
Faith was like a wild woman. She ignored the two men Hawke was fighting off, and faced the two who came at her from each side. Pride filled him as a slender leg kicked out at one. Chest shot. Jacob had a feeling, seeing the power behind that kick, that the ole boy just might not survive that one. He went down hard. Hawke’s two followed similar fates. The last one, the largest and the instigator of the attack, began to back away from the two slowly, a dawning horror on his face revealing knowledge he shouldn’t have had.
“Demons,” he muttered before turning and running.
“Well, hell,” Jacob drawled as he stood to his feet and moved purposely for the door. “Let’s get the hell out of here before the local soldiers get in on the fun.” Not to mention before his c**k managed to bust his straining zipper. Watching that ass twitch and bunch was going to kill him.
Chapter Four
Jacob pushed Faith out the door of the bar, leaving Danson and Hawke to follow. Inside, it sounded as though the whole place was erupting into a fight. Nothing surprising, Faith knew. Too much alcohol, too much testosterone. The combination was sure to cause trouble.
“Took you long enough to show up,” Faith bit out as he rushed her to the dirty black SUV parked behind the bar.
His arm was wrapped around her waist, holding her close to his larger body as he pulled her to the parking lot. Now wasn’t the time for her damned lust to spark and turn on full force, yet she felt it heating, moistening her, preparing her for him.
“Danson, take Faith’s buddy with you. I’ll call in the morning. Hide deep. I don’t have time to bust your asses out of the local lockup,” Jacob called back, his voice dark, violent as the hand riding low on her back pushed her faster to the vehicle
“Hey wait, that’s my partner,” Faith protested as Hawke followed Danson quickly to a matching vehicle. “Damned traitor.”
“Get in.” He opened the door and pushed her into the dusty seat quickly before moving to the driver’s side and jumping in. “We don’t have time to argue over it.”
Faith snarled. Bossy.
Jacob started the vehicle up and accelerated quickly from the parking lot. They were on the main road, heading out of town when sirens flashing on a disreputable sedan rushed past them.
Breathing out a hard sigh, she glanced over at her reluctant rescuer. Damn him, he was as handsome as he always had been. His shoulders were broad, clothed in a dark T-shirt that conformed to every line of the lean muscles beneath it. His muscular chest tapered to powerful h*ps and thighs.
His hair was thick and such a dark brown it was nearly black. It framed the hard contours of his features, fell to his shoulders and raked back from his face with careless fingers. In profile, his features were savage, relentless. With high cheekbones, a straight, arrogant nose, and lips that were just shy of full. He had sinfully kissable lips. They made her mouth water.