Rebecca Zanetti - Provoked

Didn’t the dumbass know not to kiss anything icy? Hopefully he’d stick.

Drawing in a deep breath, she wiped her window clear. “Well?”

The guy outside her window smiled. “We’re, ah, here to talk you into selling to Hanson. You crazies don’t need that much land, now, do you?”

Relief, raw and hard, ripped through her so quickly her knees weakened. “The land?” Thank goodness. They wanted the land. Something a woman alone could be happy about. “Yeah, sure. I’ll talk to the others.”

He smiled, menace tipping his lips. “Well, now, we’re supposed to convince you. Come out of the car, pretty lady.”

Fear rushed back.

A shadow caught her attention. One second the moonlit road was clear . . . the next a man wearing all black stood with long overcoat flapping in the wind.

He came out of nowhere. No vehicle, no hint, just a tall figure in black like something out of a movie.

The clouds parted and the moon slid down to highlight him. Hard, primitive, predatory, fierce eyes lighter than possible stared out of a chiseled face.

Amber slowly sat back as far as possible in her seat. “Kane.”

Amber bit her lip, her gaze on the figure dead-center in the quiet road. His name fell easily from her cold lips. Instinct whispered the two guys flanking her car were silly jokes compared to the motionless man taking in the situation. The clouds groped the moon, plunging half his face into darkness.

Her shoulders shuddered from something other than the cold.

“What did you do to the vehicle?” Low, male, Kane’s voice carried through the night and past her windows.

The jerk on her side of the car took several lurching steps toward Kane. “None of your fucking business.” Fumbling in his jacket pocket, he yanked out a gun.

Amber gasped and reached for her window. Quick motions had the glass partially rolled down. “Wait a second, here. I know Hanson wouldn’t want you to kill anybody.” Okay, probably not true. Hanson had plenty of blood on his hands. “Let’s all pretend this never happened and go on our ways.”

Kane settled his stance. “Drop the gun or you’re really going to piss me off.”

What a terrible idea. That was no way to negotiate with a drunk on a mission. Should she get out of the car and try to defuse the situation? Seemed like a bad move, but staying inside wasn’t a great idea, either. The Bug was dead, and at some point, she needed to get out. Or at some point, one of the menaces around her would break a window. While she didn’t trust Kane, him getting shot and leaving her with the two brutes held little appeal.

With a quick prayer, she unlocked the door and stepped outside.

“Get back in the vehicle.” Kane kept his gaze on the man in front of her.

Yeah, probably a good idea. Keeping the door open and her body protected by metal, she bunched her knees in case she needed to jump back inside. “We all need to stop this, right now. This has gone too far.” Though Hanson’s men had intended to take it further. Fear and cold set her teeth chattering.

“I’ll ask you again—what did you do to the Volkswagen?” Kane’s hands remained relaxed at his sides, his voice calm, his tone slightly irritated.

Chuck leaned against the front bumper of the car, the metal protesting his massive bulk with a loud crunch . “Shoot him, Alex.”

Kane sighed, the sound carrying on the soft wind. He dodged to the side and cut in, grabbing Alex by the neck and slamming his head into the Volkswagen. A sickening thud filled the night, and Alex slid to the ground.

Amber gasped, her gaze on the streak of red now smeared across the faded metal hood.

She swallowed, her entire body going stone-cold. Gravity dropped her to the seat. As her butt hit the torn leather, her brain fired awake. Panicking, she grabbed the door handle and yanked it shut, slamming her fingers on the lock button. What was she going to do?

Wide-eyed, she stared out the front window. The clouds deserted the moon again, allowing streaming light to illuminate the entire area.

Kane scratched his head, his gaze on her, one eyebrow lifted. With a shrug, he turned toward Chuck. “Before I knock you out, would you mind telling me what you did to the car?”

Chuck stepped away from the Volkswagen, his red flannel coat bright in the moonlight. “Why?”

“I need to know if I can fix it, or if I need to borrow your truck.” Relaxed, calm, Kane’s posture nevertheless hinted at a hard edge.

“You’re not takin’ my truck.” Loud and slurred, Chuck’s voice carried on the wind. Visibly gathering his courage, he shot forward, his head down. Three long seconds later, he smashed into Kane’s gut in what should’ve been a powerful tackle.

Kane didn’t move.

Chuck dropped back on his butt, and snow sprayed over the hood. The clunk of his head against the Bug’s grill vibrated the entire car.

Kane frowned, rubbing his chin and eying both downed men. His gaze lifted to her as he stalked toward the grill.

She swallowed and pressed back into the torn leather. What were his abs made of? Steel? He had to be wearing a bulletproof vest to have knocked Chuck out so easily. Reaching out, she twisted the key several times. Please, God, let the ignition start. Nothing happened.

Kane reached the grill. “Pop the hood, Beag Gaiscioch .”

Little Warrior? Amber lifted her chin—boy, did he have her pegged wrong. Poor, crazy, tough guy. She rolled her window down an inch so he could hear her. “Listen, ah, thanks for the rescue, but I’m no warrior, and you need to leave me alone.” Rationalizing with the crazy man probably wasn’t going to work.

“So you do admit to your heritage.” He gestured toward the hood. “You speak Gaelic.”

“My grandmother is Irish, and she insisted I learn.” Amber reached for the lever. No reason not to let him take a look. “You need help, and I have some ideas.”

“Good.” The hood popped open, and he leaned down. “The demons are coming, and we need to get you secured.” His voice rolled underneath the hood and straight to her chest. Sexy and low.

Why in the world were all the sexy guys nuts? “I know a good shrink in town. He can help you.”

“Stop playing games with me, Amber. My patience has ended.” Kane sighed loudly. “They pulled the oil plug and drained all the oil. Your motor overheated. Damno is totus ut abyssus .”

“Overeducated rich guy,” she muttered. How many languages did Kane know, anyway? “That wasn’t Gaelic.”

“No. Latin.” He slammed the hood closed. “Get out of the car, darlin’.”

How had he heard her? She’d barely whispered. “What did you just say in Latin?”

“Damn it all to hell.” He stalked around the car to place a hand on her door. “I didn’t want to swear in front of you. Now get out.”

Great. The lunatic had a sweet side. Didn’t they all? “No.”

“Yes.” He leaned down, dark face blurred beyond the icing glass. “You’ll freeze to death in there. Please get out.”

“If I don’t?” A smart woman always examined all options.

“I’ll break the glass, probably on the other side so you don’t get cut, and then I’ll lift you out.” Reasonable, he sounded like he was discussing the weather.

“That’s assault and kidnapping.”

“Actually, it’s battery and kidnapping.” He pulled up on the lever, which didn’t give. “Though I promise I won’t hurt you.”

“Until you get me to your spaceship and start probing me.” Why hadn’t she gone to college and taken an auto-repair class just for basic knowledge? She didn’t even know if he was telling the truth about the car, and looking inside the hood wouldn’t help her. She reached for her purse with her left hand, keeping her right wrapped around the pen. Her only weapon.