Page 76 of Protecting Peyton

“Twelve.” I finished for him. “I know. Give me a day or two.”

He held up two fingers. “Any time.”

I pulled out my phone and shot a picture of the address. It was neither a nice part of town nor a short ride back to her work, and I was damned well going to insist she let me give her a ride back. “I may call you later for an updated position if she starts riding back before I reach her.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said with a wave.

Hurrying downstairs, I found Joe had the hood of my car up. “Hey, I need to go.”

“I was just checking the belts for ya.” He closed the hood gently as I hopped inside.

That was Joe kind of maintenance, checking the belts on a car with less than fifteen thousand miles on it.

I raced out and headed for the freeway. From Peyton’s work, her driver needed to use the surface streets, but from here, taking the freeway would help me make up time.

I read the address into my phone for navigation, and the answer was that I might or might not make it there before she picked up her bike and started back.

CHAPTER 18

Peyton

I heardthe screech of tires followed by a yell. Then I couldn’t believe the voice I heard.

“What the fuck?” Shorty shouted. A second later, his head snapped back, and he crumpled like a paper doll.

Squinting through the pain, I made out the form that went with the voice—March, my March.

Buzzcut yelled and lunged at him. He dodged. Then I saw the glint of the knife Buzzcut attacked with. March pulled off his belt and wielded it between his outstretched hands. Shorty started to get up.

Spotting a knife in Shorty’s hand, I shouted, “Behind you,” as I struggled to my feet.

March slid sideways, but it was still two with knives against one. Getting to my feet, I brought my leg up hard behind Shorty.

His squeal as he went down said it all. On the third try, I’d finally hit the bullseye. According to my instructor, Shorty would be out of the fight for a half minute or so, and we had to act fast.

“Hey, fuckhead,” I yelled at Buzzcut to distract him and give March a chance against the knife.

Buzzcut turned toward me and snarled, then lunged.

I backed up as fast as I could.

March tackled him from behind, and the two men went down in acloud of dust. March was big and strong, but Buzzcut was huge and had weight working for him. They struggled for advantage, each one grunting.

I searched for a weapon to use to protect my man. I raced for a small board a dozen feet away. As I returned with it, Shorty moaned. I kicked him hard in the gut to keep him out of the fight.

The two men rolled, and Buzzcut ended up on top.

I wound up and swung.

Just as I did, they rolled again. The board hit March with a sickening slap.

He fell back off Buzzcut.

Buzzcut struggled to his knees, and I swung again. This time I hit the right man, and he spat blood.

March rose up like a phoenix, twisted the knife out of Buzzcut’s hand, and got the big man in a chokehold from behind.

Buzzcut clawed at March’s arm.