Behind the Scenes ~ SIX

“Kameron—”

“Relax. You’re right. We need a different approach. So, stay here until you get my signal, then ride to the rescue like a good little soldier.”

He tightened his grip on her wrist. “What are you going to do?”

“Nothing bad.” She slipped her hand free then took a few steps away, glancing back at him still grinning. “Just get close. Create a distraction.” She winked, damn it. “Whatever works.”

Six reached for her, but she was already moving. Sauntering up to the bar. Elbows on the counter, one foot tapping the floor behind her. Her ass hugging a stool. The denim clinging in all the right places.

Martin looked over. Stared, then rearranged his dick. He nudged one of the men, nodding toward Kam.

Six shifted to the other side, letting it play out. He knew how to control his emotions. Bury them. Emotions didn’t belong on an op, and they didn’t belong in this bar. He was working a case. Not on a date.

And he held firm. Stayed in the shadows. Waiting. He knew how she operated. What she’d do. Let them get close then pop one guy in the throat, the other in the groin. That would be his signal to move—prevent the other men from joining in. And her plan was moving along perfectly. Two of the guys had branched off—were sidling up beside her all cozy. Eyes slightly lust dazed. Focused on the healthy dose of cleavage she was sporting—had she really needed to undo three buttons? Show off the lacy white bra she had on? 

They didn’t suspect a thing. Hands nowhere near the bulges beneath their armpits. Their movements a bit stiff, probably like their dicks. All the blood rushing to the wrong head. It got smart men killed. For these assholes, it gave them tunnel vision. Blocked out the fact you could just make out a hint of her ankle holster as she hooked the heel of one boot on the lower rung of the stool. The slight raise by her other ankle that hid her knife. All indicators she wasn’t looking for a good time—was actively on the prowl for blood, not sex. 

Everything was proceeding exactly how she’d intended—men separated. Martin too focused on his woody to see her as a threat. Everyone’s guard down—until one of the mother fuckers touched her ass. Six knew it was coming. His damn sixth sense had decided to kick back in. Right then. Give him a ghosted snapshot of that bastard’s palm on the rounded curve. Heading south. About two heartbeats before it went down.

And Six lost it. Imploded. Rational thought a distant memory as he took four steps then struck. No warning. No trying to take the high road. Trying to talk it out. Take Martin in peacefully. Ask his men to step aside.

Just Six’s fist catching the first guy in the throat, knocking him back then doubling him over. Six grabbed the creep’s neck, pulled him into a raised knee, and the guy was down. Out cold on the floor. That broke the silence.

Martin’s other guy locked his fingers around Six’s arm, which only made snagging him easier. A hand over the creep’s, a pivot, and Six had the idiot’s arm extended. Shoulder already popping out of the joint as he levered the guy up. A kick shattered his knee, had the jerk crumpling to the ground. 

Six punched him twice in the face, just to be sure. To expend a bit of the energy thrumming through him. Then, he was on Martin. Knife out and through the bastard’s hand—pinning him to the counter. A quick elbow to Martin’s face cut off the man’s scream mid-note—had he was slumped over. Mumbling. Drooling.

Six turned in time to see one of the guys pull Kam off his buddy—spin her around then backhand her to the floor. Last thing that asshole did with that hand because Six was on him. That hand smashed against the counter—fingers bent back. Cracking against the strain. Two hits to the head and an elbow had blood splattering on the floor. Pooling beneath what used to be the guy’s nose. A few kicks to the leg, the groin, and it was over. The guy laid out across the bar. Groaning. Whimpering.

The one Kam had downed tried to push onto his hands. Hit the floor hard when Six booted him in the face. Heard his jaw snap. Served the bastard right. Touching her ass. Thinking he could treat her like a piece of meat.

Six moved over to her—went to one knee. “Kam? Come on, sweetheart, look at me.”

She groaned, blinked, then groaned, again. Palming her cheek. Eyes slowly fluttering open, giving him fleeting glimpses of green. Took her about a minute for her to finally focus on him. Glare. “What the hell, Six? I had it all under control.”

He snorted. “You are some piece of work, lady. Up you get.”

He cupped her elbow. Helped her stand. Stubborn girl swayed to her right, caught herself on his shoulder, then straightened. She blinked several times, though, he knew it didn’t do much to clear her vision. Not with the way she stumbled the few feet to the bar. Kicking the guy who’d hit her. Hard.

Six walked over to her. Brow arched. “Feel better, now?”

“A bit. The jerk has big meaty palms. That hurt.”