At sixteen, Nilay was taller than Annika, but he was skin and bones. He was forever lifting weights and drinking protein smoothies to “bulk up,” but it hadn’t taken yet. Next to Steven’s tall, muscular build, Nilay looked even more like a kid. Nilay did not seem perturbed by the fact that Steven towered a good six inches over him. Not to mention that Steven probably also had a good twenty pounds of pure muscle that Nilay did not. He glared at Steven as if warning him that his death was impending.

Steven inhaled and exhaled with exaggeration. “Listen, kid. I didn’t even know she worked here.”

Nilay stepped up closer, almost in Steven’s face. “Fine. You’re forgiven for entering. Now leave.”

“Nilay, it’s fine.” Customers were starting to notice. The last thing Annika wanted was trouble for Phil. “I can handle this.” She noted some movement from Daniel in her periphery.

Nilay addressed Annika, his eyes never leaving Steven. “I know you can. But if I had done my job as a brother before, this asshole never would have had a chance to hurt you.”

Steven’s blue eyes turned to ice. “Who the hell are you calling an asshole?” He put his hand on Nilay’s chest and shoved him.

Nilay lost his balance and fell back into Annika. Annika also lost her balance and fell back into the closest table. While the table had been vacated, she hadn’t had a chance to clean it off. She tried to use the table to regain her balance, but instead she and Nilay went down with the table. Wineglasses shattered, beer mugs clunked and a searing pain went up her left arm.

“Nilay, get off me!”

“I’m trying.” Nilay stood and offered his hand to Annika to help her stand. She reached for him. “Aw, jeez, Didi, you’re bleeding.”

Sure enough, there was a large gash on the palm of her left hand. Blood oozed from the gaping wound. Nilay led her to a chair away from all the debris. Daniel was kneeling by her side in an instant, no sign of Steven or his friends.

“What the hell...?” Mrs. P. materialized at Daniel’s side. “How can I help?”

“Where’s Steven?” Annika searched the bar, even as a wave of nausea gripped her at the sight of her wound. She turned her focus to Daniel. His brow furrowed as he gently examined her hand with a professional eye. Pain throbbed from her hand, up her arm, and the sight of the blood was not helping her stomach. She tried not to notice the gentleness of his touch, or how it sent an electrical current through her.

“Well, our Daniel pulled him off your brother. Now Phil’s got him, don’t you worry, hon.” Mrs. P. comforted her, pride in her husband all over her face. “He’s not too old to take care of a troublemaker like that.”