My eyes narrowed on his.
His eyes narrowed right on back.
“I do okay,” I assured him.
“Yeah,” he agreed. “I’m sure you do.” His stare softened, and he glanced down at Saint. “Come on, babe. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can leave. I know how much you hate these parties.”
Saint glanced up at him before her stare drifted to me. “Are you two okay?”
“Course,” he told her with a casual wave of a hand.
“Perfect,” I reiterated, squaring my shoulders to make myself appear as big as I could next to the behemoth motherfucker who had Saint on his arm, then added, “I’m ahugefan.”
“Great!” Saint said brightly.
Hunter Page’s beard twitched.
I grunted again and started for the door, muttering, “Let’s go.” I pulled it open and held it, ushering Saint through, then as Hunter approached, I ‘accidentally’ let it go.
Page darted forward and caught it with his hand, his eyebrow hitching questioningly. “Hand slip?” he asked coolly.
I almost retorted,not as badly as earlier when I beat one out to memories of your girlfriend, but instead, I muttered, “Somethin’ like that,” before taking Saint’s arm and helping her into the waiting limo. I gave the driver (who I’d already vetted) a chin lift as she hustled her ass inside and moved onto the back seat.
I bent down and slid in beside her just as the other door opened, and Hunter poked his head through. “Budge up,” he ordered. “Need to get my ass in, and I’m a lot bigger than Iceman.”
“Fatter, more like,” I mumbled under my breath, letting out a loud ‘oof’ when Saint’s elbow dug sharply into my ribs.
“What’s gotten into you?” she whispered angrily.
I sniffed, turning my head to look out the window. “Dunno what you mean. I’m perfectly fine.”
“Jesus,” she murmured, her pink, glossy lips plumping into a cute little pout.
Shifting in my seat, I covered my burgeoning cock with my jacket just as Hunter leaned forward to tell the driver the name of the club we were headed to.
When he leaned back again, his hand went to Saint’s smooth, tanned thigh, and he looked down at her and smiled.
My ribs tightened, and suddenly, I struggled to breathe. My eyes glued to Page’s hand, and I waited for the big, hairy fucker to slide it higher just so I could stop the car, drag him out, and beat the shit out of him.
Lucky for him, the car jolted, and his hand fell from my woman’s leg.
I sat back in the seat, trying to breathe through the heat rising inside my chest, but instead, I felt as if my fucking brains were about to explode.
My jaw clenched, and I prayed to God I still had Kennedy Stone’s number programmed into my phone because unless the big man himself threw me a miracle, I had a feeling my ass would be sitting in jail by the end of the night. If Hunter Page touched my woman one more time, I’d likely be up on goddamned murder charge.
—————
Trick gaveme a nudge and nodded toward the DJ booth. “Who’d have thought that Hunter Page, of all people, could DJ as well as save the Earth from an alien force sent to wipe out all of mankind?” He stared across the packed dancefloor at the man in question, who held earphones against the side of his head while his fingers rested on the record he was in the process of turning.
The bassline of an old Calvin Harris and Rihanna dance song thumped through the speakers, and the crowd began to go wild.
The music seemed to make the room throb with heated energy that was synchronized to the crowd’s movements. As I scanned the room for threats, my gaze landed on Saint, her figure shimmering in pink under the flashing lights.
Most of the people here were fans of Dischordium and were primed, ready, and waiting for their rock god idols to take the stage to perform a few singles from their new album. It was an industry party, but Dischordium and a few local radio stations had been running competitions for some fans to win VIP tickets to the event.
It was a good idea. The publicity it courted bordered on rabid, and of course, the event had become the hottest ticket in town. Everybody who was anybody clambered for tickets, and I’d already recognized a sultry blonde pop starlet wandering around in a barely-there dress, hanging onto the arm of her young actor boyfriend. Other bands, probably friends of Noah and the boys, were here too, along with DJ Raven, who was the official compere, though it seemed she’d given up her booth to Hunter Page while she got a drink and mingled.
“He’s a hairy fucker, right?” I asked.
