The thick tattooed guy stepped forward, aggressively invading Arthur’s personal space. “You lying sack of dust. You sold it. Now you owe us the cash.” Arthur didn’t flinch, but he didn’t puff his chest out either. He just stood there looking tired. “I don’t have your money, and I don’t want any trouble. Just get back in your truck and go home.” Chloe felt a pang of genuine irritation. Don’t show them weakness, she thought. They smell it. They’ll eat you alive.
The wiry guy flanked Arthur to the right, moving toward the garage entrance. “Maybe we just take some of these tools. Snap-on stuff. Sells good.” Arthur shifted his weight ever so slightly, blocking the doorway. “Don’t touch my tools.” The leader in the silver jacket laughed, a harsh barking sound. “Or what? You’re going to hit us with your cane, Grandpa?” He stepped up, shoving Arthur hard in the chest. Arthur stumbled backward. His bad right leg gave way slightly, and he caught himself on the frame of the garage door.
The three men laughed. Chloe tightened the strings of her hoodie. She stepped out of the shadows, the gravel crunching loudly under her sneakers. “Hey,” she barked. Her voice was sharp, commanding, the voice of a woman who spent her life giving orders on the mat. “Back off him now.” The three men turned. The leader looked Chloe up and down, taking in her sweatpants and messy bun. His grin widened into something ugly. “Well, well. Grandpa’s got a bodyguard. Go home, little girl. This is grown-up business.”
“I’m not going to ask politely again,” Chloe said, closing the distance. She stopped about 10 feet away—the perfect range. She calculated the geometry of the fight. The thick guy was the brawler. He’d throw wide looping hooks. She could slip inside, take out his knee with an oblique kick, and use him as a shield against the other two. “Chloe, stay back,” Arthur said. His voice was suddenly different. It wasn’t loud, but the gravelly texture had smoothed out into something cold, something absolute.
Chloe glanced at him, annoyed. “Arthur, shut up. I’ve got this.” “No,” Arthur said. He let the dirty rag fall from his hands to the floor. “You don’t.” The thick guy snorted. “Listen to him, sweetheart. Before I have to put you to sleep.” He took a heavy step toward Chloe, his hands balling into fists. Before Chloe could plant her feet to throw the kick, Arthur moved. He stepped away from the door frame, and as he did, he settled into a stance. Chloe froze.
