Three Wishes(13)
Author: Kristen Ashley

Nate knew that innately. She had too much venom in her and she let it show too often. Nate had no patience for venomous women, especially those who grew up having everything, wanting for nothing and having no reason to be the slightest bit harsh considering the privileged life they’d led.

Nate didn’t know what he wanted but whatever it was, it certainly was not Georgia.

He was saved from answering Victor when he spied a youth wearing a grey hooded sweatshirt, the hood worn up even though it was a warm day. The boy was slouching down the pavement, head bowed, hands in the front pocket of the sweatshirt, his head swinging this way and that, looking for his mark.

Nate’s guard, already on alert, always on alert, went into overdrive.

Nate’s eyes narrowed as he watched the youth and Victor started to get into the Rolls. Then, as expected, the boy darted at his target and Nate heard a woman’s outraged cry.

“Hey!” she yelled.

He watched the boy snatch the woman’s purse, his body tensing for action.

And then his eyes moved to the woman and, uncharacteristically, he froze.

“Hey! He stole my purse! Stop him, he stole my purse!” she shouted.

Nate vaguely registered she was an American tourist. Nate also absently noticed that no one moved to assist.

In that brief moment in time, Nate was too busy drinking in the vision that was her, he himself didn’t move a muscle.

She was tall, incredibly tall.

And curvy, delectably curvy.

She had the most unusual coloured hair. Hair that he knew from vast experience living in a house with Laura and Danielle for years came through a supremely talented and expensive stylist’s hands.

She had an exquisite face, flawless skin and a bearing that was extraordinary. She had been given a wide berth around her even on the crowded pavement. Not because she was screaming her head off but instead because she was majestic, radiant, elegant…

Untouchable.

In a stupor from simply looking at her, the boy with her purse charged right by Nate.

Not in a stupor, she realised no one was going to help her, gave up screaming and charged right after the boy.

At the noise, Victor turned away from the car and Nate shifted to watch in astonishment as she deftly and agilely dodged the crowd, her long legs a match for the short boy. Then Nate watched in stunned surprise as she jumped onto the thief’s back with a graceful leap.

Everyone stared in shock but no one lifted a finger except a few started to snap photographs.

“Give me back my purse, you thug!” she shouted, wrapping her long legs around her prey, one arm around his neck while she slapped him around the head with the other hand.

The thief staggered back then he staggered with intent and slammed her against the side of the building. Her head snapped back and cracked against the stone so loudly Nate could hear it from where he stood twenty paces away.

At the sound Nate jerked out of his stupor and forged forward.

“Nathaniel…” Victor called but Nate ignored him.

Regardless of the blow, she wasn’t done fighting and had not eased her grip.

“Give it ba –” she started to scream but didn’t finish.

The boy doubled in half and flipped her over. She lost her hold and went flying over his head, landing on her back on the pavement with a sickening thud.

The boy didn’t take a single step though he started to do so. With one leg lifted to make good his escape, Nate grasped his sweatshirt in a clenched fist and pulled him back. With a violent jerk Nate yanked him off his feet and around towards the side of the building and let him go, brutally slamming him against the stone wall beside a huge display window.

Swiftly Nate’s hand settled on the thief’s throat, squeezing savagely and lifting until the boy was on his toes.

“Drop the bag,” he ordered in a voice cold as ice with an edge akin to that of a razor.

The thief immediately dropped the bag.

“I… I’ll call the police.” Her low, rich American voice, a voice that had a strange twang to it, stuttered from beside him as she cautiously leaned forward to grab her bag. Nate noted she wasn’t moving cautiously because of fear but because she was hurt.

Nate turned to watch her, her head was bent as she searched through her bag and then she pulled out a mobile and lifted her eyes to him.

The moment they hit his, Nate froze again.

Her eyes were simply indescribable. A pale blue that was bottomless, inescapable, the irises rimmed by a smoky midnight that was so alluring, he thought for a moment he’d leaned toward her, he was so drawn to her eyes.

They widened upon looking at him almost as if she recognised him.

A gasping noise came from the thug.

Nate didn’t move. He stared in frozen fascination as she stole closer.

Without taking her unbelievable eyes from his, her hand settled gently on the forearm that was holding the thief against the wall. When it did fire shot up his arm from where she touched him.

“You’re choking him,” she whispered.

His hold loosened and her hand dropped. With effort he tore his eyes from hers and dropped his hand only to grasp a handful of the thug’s sweatshirt at his throat, jerk him forward a few inches and slam him viciously back against the wall.

The boy grunted in pain.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” Nate snarled and fury unlike anything he’d known ripped through him as he looked at the boy.

“Bennett has called the police. Bloody hell, girl. Are you all right?” Victor was at their sides, had his hand on the girl’s shoulder and was bent into her, peering at her to ascertain the answer to his question.

“I think so. Just had the breath knocked out of me, that’s all,” she answered.

“What were you thinking, leaping on him like that? You could’ve been hurt,” Victor admonished because she was not all right, she was holding her body like it was made of crystal. She was not as deft and loose-limbed as she had been while flying toward her assailant.

Victor slid his arm around her waist in an effort of support because of the way she held her body.

“He took my purse,” she answered Victor’s question.

“It was still bloody dangerous,” Victor carried on with his gentle remonstration.

“I like that purse,” she returned with a slight teasing lilt to her tone and a quirky, shaky smile.

Witnessing that quirky smile Nate found he was having trouble breathing.

Victor’s head came up at her smile and then snapped to look at Nate. Or more to the point, he took one look at the way Nate was looking at the girl. Then Victor looked at her. Then back at Nate.