Safe in His Arms by Claire Thompson

Author:Claire Thompson
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Tags: m/m bdsm erotic romance

Chapter 9

Hank drove through the streets of one of Denver‘s seedier neighborhoods until he

spied a pawnshop. No way could he park his Porsche there—it was even worse than

Russell‘s neighborhood. That gave him an idea. Russell‘s neighborhood wasn‘t all that

far from here—only a few long blocks. He‘d park the car at Russell‘s place and walk

down here. He‘d be in and out and back to his car within the hour.

It started to rain while he was walking, so he hurried his pace. When he got to the

right street, two guys wearing hoodies that obscured their faces slouched toward him.

―Hey, man,‖ one of them said, ―can you spare a few bucks?‖

Hank gave a curt shake of his head and moved past them. ―Come on, man,‖ the

second guy said. ―You got cigarettes at least?‖ Hank ignored them, pushing by to get to

the pawnshop door.

The man in the shop didn‘t seem too impressed with the coins. He examined them

carefully with a jeweler‘s glass and then put them on the scale on the counter. He

looked over at Hank. ―I‘ll give you $3,000 for the lot.‖

―What?‖ Hank sputtered. ―These are rare, old coins.‖

The man, a short, dumpy fellow with small, mean eyes, shrugged. ―You‘ve heard

the expression, worth its weight in gold? Well, that‘s all these are worth to me. You

want some fancy coin price, take ‗em to a coin dealer. I pay based on the weight of the

gold, period.‖

Hank glared at the man. He wanted to snatch the coins back and take them to

someone who would pay what they were worth, which he was sure was more than

$3,000. On the other hand, he didn‘t dare try to sell them to some legitimate dealer.

They were, after all, stolen goods.

Jesus, to think he was reduced to stealing. Well, it wasn‘t his fault. Dire

circumstances called for dire action, and those fuckers at the club deserved it. Shit, they

hadn‘t even bothered to lock the case.

―Well?‖ the man said impatiently with a lift of bushy eyebrows. ―Take it or leave

it.‖

―Okay. I‘ll take it,‖ Hank snapped.

It was raining even harder when he stepped out of the pawnshop. Ducking his

head, he began to walk quickly down the sidewalk back toward Russell‘s place. All at

once the two kids who had begged him for money and cigarettes were flanking him.

―I got a knife, motherfucker,‖ one of them said, jabbing something hard into Hank‘s

side.

―Give us your wallet and we‘ll let you live,‖ the other snarled.

Hank shook the men away, adrenaline flipping him into instant overdrive. The one

who claimed to have a knife stepped suddenly in front of him, tripping him so he fell to

his knees while the other one smashed his fist into Hank‘s ear. Hank was jerked back by

the hair, forced to look up into the face of the guy with a knife.

―Give us your wallet, asshole.‖ The guy held out his hand, which Hank saw did

indeed have a knife in it, a switchblade that opened with a menacing flick. He touched

the point of the blade to Hank‘s cheek and drew a stinging path down the skin.

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