“Can I help you?” His tone dripped with disdain as he looked me over, obviously unimpressed by my lack of designer clothes and fancy accessories. Tough shit. Maybe he’d be more impressed by my fist in his face. “Yes.” I bared my teeth in a semblance of a smile. “Remove your hands from her before I remove them for you.” “And who the fuck are you to tell me what to do?” Vincent sneered. The man who’s about to pummel your face into a pulp.
