John comes at me, anger contorting his face as he lunges at me with a knife. I duck down, swiping his legs out from under him. He grabs hold of my shirt before I can step aside, and we crash to the floor with him on top of me. He brandishes the knife at my face, and I grip his forearms, holding him off as the knife dangles precariously close to my flesh. He presses his large body down on top of me, and every attempt to push him off fails. Sweat beads on my brow as we battle for control of his arms. I dig my nails into his skin, as his mouth pulls into an ugly grimace. “I will enjoy slitting that pretty throat,” he threatens as pounding footsteps echo in the hallway.
He jerks his head up, and I use the distraction to my advantage, freeing one of my hands and scraping my nails across his cheek. He curses, pinning me with murderous eyes as he angles the knife, dragging it across my hand. I scream as Bry reaches us, lifting John up and slamming him against the wall. The knife falls to the floor with a loud clang. “You okay?” Bry asks from over his shoulder as he wedges John to the wall with his body.
I tear a strip off the bottom of the front of my shirt with my teeth, wrapping it around my bleeding hand. “I’m fine, but this asshole needs to be taught a valuable lesson.”
Bry grins, showcasing a set of white teeth. “What’d you have in mind?”
We drag John out the back door and beat the shit out of him. I feel zero remorse as I kick him in the ribs and the head, knowing, in some twisted way, I’m saving him from a fate much worse, because if the guys find out about this, they won’t hesitate to pull the trigger.
John is lying in the fetal position on the ground, bloodied and bruised, moaning and clutching his stomach, when I crouch down in front of him. “You will not breathe a word of this, or those will be the last words you ever say.”
“Screw you,” he pants, spitting blood at me.
I bury my fist in his broken ribs, and he yells out in pain. “I will call Saint Lennox right now and tell him you tried to kill me. They will come for you and you won’t be breathing by the time they’re finished.” I stand, pulling my cell out. “So, what’s it to be?”
“Okay, okay,” he rasps. “I won’t say anything.”
“When your brother asks, you tell him you walked back and a group of local thugs jumped you.”
“Understand, asshole?” Bry kicks him in the back.
“Yes,” he sobs. “I got it.”
We drag him a mile up the road, ditching him in an enclosed spot where he won’t be seen, and jog back to the bar.
We scrub his blood off us in the bathroom, stopping in the hallway outside. “They’ll be suspicious we’ve been gone so long,” I say. No doubt, Instructor Corr thinks it’s because his brother is taking care of us.
Isn’t he in for a surprise?
I can’t wait to wipe the smug look off that sexist asshole’s face.
“We need them to think we were fucking back here. It’s the only explanation that will work.”
Bry grins as I unbutton a few buttons on his shirt before suctioning my mouth to his neck. I don’t ask permission as I mark his skin, leaving noticeable bruising on his flesh. I pretend not to see the bulge tenting in his pants as I apply a fresh layer of lipstick, leaving clear lip marks on his jawline.
“I’ll beat assholes up any day of the week if that’s my reward,” he quips while I mess up my hair, rub rouge into my cheeks, and leave the back of my shirt hanging out.
“Bry,” I warn, and he holds up his hands.
“I’m joking, Lo. I heard you loud and clear.”
“C’mon.” I grab his hand, pulling him back toward the bar. “Time to put on a show.”
CHAPTER 14
Harlow
“FUCKING A,” BRYsays, holding out his hand when I emerge victorious from the showcase the next afternoon. “You owned the room.”
I shake his hand, smiling. “We both did.”
“But you had the faster times,” Caz says, and I whip around, smiling as he swaggers toward me. Messy waves of brown hair tumble into his gorgeous eyes, and his lips are pulled into a lopsided grin as he approaches. He’s wearing a black T-shirt that looks welded to his body, and holy hell, have his biceps gotten even bigger since we were apart? He lifts me up, and I fling my arms around his neck. “Missed you, princess,” he says against my neck, slowly lowering me to the ground.
“I missed you too,” I admit, accepting the truth because I can’t deny what I’ve felt this past week.
I’ve missed them all.
Well, Galen, not so much. The pain of his betrayal has been simmering under the surface of my skin all week. Now, I’ve moved past the angry phase, and I’m hurt. There was a moment, a few weeks ago, when I thought Galen and I were connecting, but his actions have destroyed anything credible that was building between us.
