CHAPTER SIX
One moment, everything had been in stasis, calm, poised. The three men had thought they'd been picking on a couple of softies in suits. No small amount of alcohol or poor late-night decisions had led to this moment. The racist comments were one thing. The refusal to help a murder investigation another.
But touching her? Kissing?
That was a no-no.
Dakota barely even processed her reaction. It was pure instinct.
The man who'd insulted Marcus caught her fist first—knuckles to the neck, just like she'd been considering.
She punched through, feet under shoulders, turning at the waist, knee forward. A motion she must have practiced a thousand times. Aiming for the vulnerable throat, full force. A sudden wave of anger surged through her as her fist connected. Flesh to skin. Knuc
