Chapter 16
“Aargh!”
Scarman barely managed to get up before the guy with glasses crashed into him again. Both of them ended up sprawled on the ground, moaning and cursing.
Sensing things were about to get ugly, the other two men rushed in together.
Charlotte’s lips curled into a sly smile. She grabbed one guy by the shoulders, vaulted up, and sent a spinning kick right across the other man’s face.
He stumbled back, dropped to one knee, and when he touched his nose, his fingers came away bloody. What the hell was going on?
The last guy just stood there, staring at Charlotte like he’d seen a ghost. He barely got his mouth open to beg for mercy before she slapped him across the face, punched him hard on the other side, and finished him off with a brutal hit between the legs. He dropped, clutching himself, face twisted in pain.
Charlotte stood there, totally calm, rubbing her wrist. She pointed at Scarman, her voice sharp and impatient. “Pick up the milk.”
The four men exchanged glances, suddenly stone-cold sober. How had they just lost to a girl who looked barely old enough for high school? Must’ve been the booze.
Scarman struggled to his feet, yanked a knife from his pocket, and his eyes burned red with anger. “Kill that little bitch!”
The four of them charged again.
Charlotte just rolled her eyes. “Idiots.”
Whatever. It had been way too long since she’d had a good fight.
She was just about to jump in when a metal rod flew past her, smacking straight into Scarman’s hand.
The knife clattered to the ground, the sound ringing out in the night.
“Who the hell just hit me?” Scarman shouted, clutching his hand and looking around wildly.
Suddenly, headlights blazed behind them, flooding the alley with harsh white light. The men shielded their eyes.
From where she stood, Charlotte could make out a slate-blue Bugatti parked with reckless confidence in the dark. A tall man in a black suit leaned against the car door, cigarette pinched between his fingers, the kind of presence you could feel in your bones.
A few seconds later, he flicked the ash from his cigarette, lips quirking in a lazy smile.
“Picking on a girl? Really?”
It was him.
Charlotte dropped her gaze and stood still.
Bullying? Who was bullying who, exactly?
Honestly, anyone watching would think she’d been practicing martial arts since she could walk.
Scarman, still clutching his chest, glared at the stranger. “Who the hell are you? Mind your own business and get lost.”
Anthony arched an eyebrow,
cigarette still hanging from his lips.
He took off his suit jacket, walked over and
raped it over Charlotte’s shoulders, giving the back of her
head a gentle pat. “Step back Close your eyes if you’re scared.
He must not have seen her fight.
Fine.
Charlotte pursed her lips, took two steps back, and watched him with big, clear eyes.
Scared? Not a chance.
Anthony rolled up his sleeves as he walked, a cold edge in his eyes that sent a chill through the alley.
“What… what do you want?” one of the men stammered. The guy was huge, but next to Anthony, he looked like nothing.
“Your life,” Anthony said, voice flat and icy. Without warning, he kicked Scarman right in the shin.
A sharp crack echoed out.
Scarman hit the ground before he even realized what happened, leg twisted at a horrible angle.
The others tried to rush Anthony, but he took them down with a few quick, brutal
moves, leaving them sed
and groaning on the pavement
Anthony took a drag from his cigarette, then held it between his fingers as he pressed his spotless shoe down on Scarman’s hand. He crouched low smoke curling in the air a dangerous smile tugging at his lips.
“What did you just call her?” he asked, voice low and menacing. The sound of it sent a cold shiver down everyone’s spine.