I step away from the bathroom door prepared to help deal with whoever is on the other side—sweaty palms and all— when I hear the slam of a heavy hand against the solid oak.
Oh, shit! I hate being right.
Rolling over the back of the couch, I palm the mace tucked inside the front pocket of my bag just as a set of large shoulders crash through the front door, tearing it off the hinges.
“No one closes a door in my face. I said I need to speak to Ms. Kane. Mr. Kane insists.”
I stumble around the edge of the couch, mace aimed at the front door.
Kane. I know the name. It’s followed me through life since birth like a plague I can’t shake off.
I drop my bag, but keep my finger ready to shoot a stream of pepper spray if needed. I have no intentions of speaking to any Kane in this lifetime. Been there, done that. I don’t exactly see the need to give him a third chance of throwing me away.
So, no. Whoever it is thinking he can play linebacker with my front door can take his heavy-handed crap somewhere else.
Dressed in nothing but a skimpy pair of shorts and a top, I yank my robe off the bathroom wall and shove my arms in the sleeves.
Every muscle in my body is tense, making my movements jerky and robotic. I can feel the heat of his eyes on me but I don’t turn around until I have the sash tied off.
Anger surging, I level my gaze on his. “What the hell does he want? Dumping his only daughter twice is not enough?” I hold a hand up. “Better yet, I don’t really care. Why don’t you fuck off already? I’m not going anywhere with you now or ever. Might as well not waste anyone’s time.”
I have no idea where my bravado is coming from, but I hold my ground.
Impatient brown eyes rake over my bed head hair, no make-up look before coming back to rest on my face. I’m pretty sure Muscles considers me lower than dumpster trash with how disgust curls his lips into a disapproving frown. I can practically read his thoughts. He can’t piece together why his powerful, corrupt boss would want anything to do with me—a nobody waitress.
That makes two of us.
Muscles steps into my personal space, his musky scent stealing my breath. The air suddenly feels a lot heavier and my lungs struggle. Bushy brows pinch into a murderous scowl and I admit, he doesn’t simply look like a scary son-of-a-bitch staring down at me. He is one.
I swallow my fear. “You’re gonna pay for that, right?” I swing a hand in the direction of my front door and slink back until my ass hits the back of my couch. Which isn’t far considering the size of the place.
Finger ready, my target in sight. I swallow back the bubble of hysteria threatening to burst out in a fit of screams. He moves one more inch and this little impromptu meeting will be over.
“You need to leave now. I have no desire to try and kindle enough energy to deal with my father.” AKA the biggest asshole there is. Mobster. The man who threw me away when he tired of being a dad.
Bear claws for hands come down on my shoulder and from the corner of my eye, I see Nikki grab a kitchen chair, ready to swing with all her heart.
I shove away from Muscles and hold a hand up for Nikki to slow her roll. Kitchen chair half hoisted, she's got a mean look in her eyes. I pump the button on my mace but only get a fizzle of foam instead of the stream of spray.
Shit!
I throw my other hand up in the direction of my friend, swearing viciously. “Damn it! Whoa, I got this, babe. I’ll see you at work, okay?” I wave my hand and hold her gaze until she backs off. I know for a fact Muscles won’t think twice about burying his knuckles into a woman’s face and I don’t want my friend to get hurt on my account.
I get a are you fucking crazy look in return. Ignoring Nikki’s silent plea for me to stand aside and let her at him, I push her out the door. “I like my friends living. Besides, I’m sure I’m safe.” I eye Muscles and draw my arms across my chest. “Sort of.” I can count on zero fingers the amount of experience I have dealing with heavy-handed thugs, but my father? Yeah, this isn’t exactly the first time I’ve had to deal with him. The last time was on my terms though, so I’m a little off-kilter.
With one more look, Nikki slowly walks away, but I can tell I’ll get an ear full the second I get to work.
Speaking of. I turn back to Muscles. “Look, I need to get ready for work. And you need to leave. You don’t want my bosses wondering where I am at when I don't clock in,” I lie. They would cut me from the payroll without a second thought, but I’m desperate and ready to start name-dropping if it will get him to leave.
Then again working for my father's enemy isn’t exactly going to earn me any points.
“Your father requests a word with you. Shut up and come with me.”
I make a small choking sound. “You can tell your boss I’m not interested. Sorry you wasted your time.” Lara Croft would have some kind of slick, kick-ass ninja moves to rid herself of unwanted guests, but all I have is three free months of yoga training on my side. Something tells me that a warrior pose is not going to help me out here.
Rough hands grab me by the shoulder and pure instinct takes over. Despite my knees wanting to turn to water, I rear back and aim my elbow for a square freshly shaven chin. On a man this size, it’s probably not his weakest point but I can’t reach many other places.
The bastard sways out of the way and laughs. Laughs!