He cocked his arm, and suddenly he was torn from her and thrown backward through the air, landing with a thud in the darkness. Fear and confusion rocked through Tracey as Diesel’s face came into focus, cold black eyes locked on the other man, who was holding her arm so tight her fingers were numb. Seconds passed in a blur of animalistic noises as Diesel’s fists flew, and the guy stumbled, doubling over. Diesel nailed him with an uppercut, sending the asshole flying backward. Diesel stayed on him, fists flying. The other guy came out of the shadows, the blade of a knife catching the light.

“Diesel!” Tracey shouted, backing up as Diesel’s fist connected with the first guy’s jaw, sending him careening to the pavement.

Diesel spun around, hulking toward the armed man who was waving the knife with a sinister expression. In one swift move, Diesel grabbed his wrist, turning his massive back to the armed man’s chest, and flipped him over his shoulder. The knife skittered across the pavement, and Diesel was on him in the space of a second, landing blow after blow, until the man on the ground lay limp as a rag doll.

Diesel pushed to his feet, arms arcing out from his body, chest heaving, dark eyes scanning the pavement. He swept Tracey into his arms, his heart thundering as furiously as hers. She clung to him as he one-handedly pulled out his phone, eyes locked on those lifeless men as he put the phone to his ear, his voice as cold and dire as death itself. “Booker. Two guys assaulted Tracey. Back lot at Whiskey Bro’s. Come get ’em before I put them six feet under.”

He pocketed his phone, his rough hand brushing something wet from her face.

Clarity came in jagged, painful bursts, the blur of panic giving way to a mix of fear, anger, and embarrassment as Diesel’s voice filtered in. “Bleeding…get you cleaned up…”

The men lying motionless in the shadows came into focus, anger clawing its way to the surface, until Tracey felt like she was going to explode. She pushed out of Diesel’s arms, storming over to one of the men in a fit of rage, hands fisted. She kicked the guy wearing the denim jacket in the ribs. “Asshole!” Kick. “Don’t you ever”—kick—“come near me again!” Gulping air into her lungs, she stalked to the other guy, unleashing more fury. “Motherfucker!” Kick! “I am not your victim!” Kick. “I hate you!” Kick.