Not A Small-Town Girl

Chapter 10-2

Danielle lifted her hazed eyes to meet the man’s greedy and somewhat lewd gaze. "Get lost," she said, her head spinning from the alcohol.

Rather than anger, the man’s expression turned hungry. "Feisty. I like that." His hand reached for her thigh.

"Check a mirror lately? You’re ugly enough to scare a ghost. Who are you to hit on women looking like that?" Juniper yanked Danielle back, unleashing a stream of insults.

The commotion drew attention. The man’s face darkened at the public humiliation. "You want to do this the hard way? You have no idea who I am. Fine, one night with me, and I might forgive your disrespect."

"Go to hell," Juniper spat.

His thugs materialized, all muscle and menace, making clear they wouldn’t leave without Danielle.

"That’s Draco Hayes and his crew," Joshua observed. "Those girls might be in trouble. He’s got a reputation."

Enraged by Juniper’s defiance, Draco’s facade cracked. "Nobody disrespects me like that. Teach them some manners, boys."

The moment his men moved, Danielle struck. Even drunk, she moved with lethal precision-one kick sent a thug flying, another crashing down before she could catch her breath.

When a knife flashed behind her, she sensed it without looking, spinning into a kick that sent the attacker sprawling. Blood sprayed as bones cracked with a sickening crunch. Within seconds, the club floor was littered with groaning bodies and turned into her personal combat zone.

Danielle, feeling the alcohol kick in, started to get wobbly on her feet.

Watching his men fall, Draco’s expression turned vicious. He pulled a blade, aiming for her heart. At that critical moment, David’s boot caught Draco in the chest before he could strike.

"You okay?" David asked the swaying girl. Her flushed face and disheveled ponytail stirred something primal in him.

Danielle studied David through hazy eyes, her gaze fixed solely on him despite the crowd. Something unnamed passed between them.

Then she started fumbling through her pockets. Finding nothing, she wobbled over to Juniper’s purse, extracted several hundred-dollar notes, and pressed them into David’s hand.

"You’re seriously hot," she said, her words a bit slurred.

"Must be rough, doing this kind of job. Thanks for giving me a hand."

The entire club froze in stunned silence, watching this drunk girl mistake David-the man who could crash Soulfield’s economy with a phone call-for a male escort.

David’s eyes narrowed dangerously, his spine-chilling smile promising unspoken consequences.