“Bay,” I hear Ozzy prompt. “Get out.”
Never going to happen.
Not in this lifetime or the next am I going to desert Ozzy in the basement of a fucking Italian restaurant.
Leaning forward—well, trying to—I attempt to get closer to this asshole’s ear. “Ten seconds,” I warn. “And then we’re going to see how long it takes me to bring your big ass down.”
He bows forward suddenly, sending my body toppling over his head and losing my grip.
The fucker ishuge,and I’m about to fall face-first into the cement when I’m caught by Ozzy’s tight grasp.
He quickly gets me to my feet before he shakes me once to get his point across. “Go.”
“No,” I counter immediately with furrowed brows. “I’m not leaving you, Oz.”
“Fuckoff.”
Huh.
That still doesn’t work.
He should’ve started with that, and maybe—justmaybe—it would’ve sparked a brain cell to heed his order.
It doesn’t happen, though.
Probably wouldn’t have happened with thefuck offeither, but hey, he tried. Good for him.
I’m suddenly seized by the back of the neck like a baby cub and mercilessly yanked backward, falling to my ass when the grip releases and permits me to fall.
I grunt at the impact before someone mimics it right after mine.
Snapping my head up, Ozzy’s already delivered a punch to the big dude but ol’ boy counters one right back.
Then…my husband does some crazy ass shit.
Where he got a fucking pen isbeyondme, but he thrusts the thing into the big dude’s shoulder. The room fills with a violent roar that sprints viciously up my spine in warning shit’s about to getreal.
He lunges for Oz, shoving him backward but not before my husband yanks the writing utensil out of the big guy’s muscle.
Ozzy’s spine hits the drywall, but he’s quick to counteract. Pressing onward, he drives the pen forward.
However, the guy blocks his shot and contributes to the fight, clobbering Ozzy in the ribs before attempting to headbutt and gain some of the upper hand.
But his efforts are void when Oz dodges and shoves him.
Getting to my feet to help, it’s at that moment a swarm of men come in, and the party’s over.
I’m almost instantly held back by two dickheads, and Ozzy is subdued after he stabs a second dude with the writing utensil and that guy doesn’t take it as well.
Too bad.
“Where ishe?” Passenger seat asshole storms in for his men, pissed off and in pain.
“On the way,” another answers simply.
“Lock these two fuckers in here.” He begins for the door and doesn’t spare us another glance. “Get ready.”
“Yes, sir.”
