“Am I heading into a fight?” Dutch stares straight ahead. “What?” I ask distractedly. “How many of them will I need to take out? If it’s more than five, I’ll have to call my brothers.” His eyes shift to me. “I’m not a ninja.” His words are so ridiculous that a small smile trembles my lips. “You think I’m going to fight someone?” “You have that look in your eyes,” he says, returning his attention to the road. “It’s that face you make when you’re going to shatter someone’s world.” My eyebrows hike. “I do?” He nods. “It’s hot as hell.”
