“What’s your point?” He puffs up the sorry excuse he has for a chest and it just makes the beer belly he’s getting stick out more.
“That you’re the shittiest part about this town,” I speak up. “Only been here a few weeks and I already see it. You’re the genital wart on the taint of the Heights, now fuck off.”
Wrapping an arm around Hallie in some sort of what’s probably supposed to be comfort—she shrugs to shake him off, but he just tightens his grip—the two of them turn around and start walking away.
The way he snarled insults about Lexi still rings in my ears, even as I watch him go.
He doesn’t get to talk about her like that.
It’s not going to happen again.
My mouth does the talking, but my body is too eager to say the rest. “Make sure that’s the last time Lexi’s name comes out of your mouth.”
I watch as his shoulders pull back, head popping from shoulder to shoulder, before he turns around, malice brewing in his shit-colored eyes.
“Yeah? And what are you gonna do about it if it’s not, big boy?”
A familiar darkness coils through my limbs, energizing my cells into a constant buzz they’re only too eager to expend.
“I’d be happy to show you a few things I learned in the pen,” I purr through my teeth.
“Well, this has been fun,” comes Ronnie’s chipper tone as he steps forward, one hand on my arm and one in front of Gary’s face. “How about you fuck off now, Gary. Let’s give the first responders the night off, yeah? They don’t need to stop having fun to scrape your flesh off the sidewalk, and really, I think Duke’s been through enough, don’t you? Are we going to make him pressure wash this place to get your guts off of it? That just feels insensitive, if you’re asking me.”
Weston cackles, and I think even Wyatt smirks beneath all that scruff on his face.
But before Gary can decide his own fate, Dallas pushes through the crowd of folks to step between us. He chooses to shove me away from Gary, like I’m the one who started this.
It takes me by surprise, and he gets me a few steps back because of it, by the high-top again, before I regain my balance and hold my own. First time someone’s managed to push me in alongtime, and it throws me for a beat.
“He’s not worth it,” Dallas says so low I doubt anyone else hears him.
“I know,” I mutter back. “I wasn’t gonna.”
Probably.
Dropping his hands from my chest, Dallas takes a step back but keeps his voice impossibly low. “Miserable fuck makes a game of ruining others’ nights. Don’t let him.” He turns to the rest of my group, dark eyes writhing, like the shadows come to life in his darkness. “Why don’t you guys take your night elsewhere. Cool off.”
It’s not a suggestion.
Gary snickers, clearly having heard us be asked to leave, and Dallas whirls to face him, creeping forward to press into his personal space. “Last warning, ’stache.”
“I was just defending her,” he tries to weasel out of it.
“Leave me out of this,” Hallie retorts, and weaves through the bodies around us to get away.
Dallashumphs, one brow arched, staring Gary down until he gets the point, tucking his tail and going back to his greasy corner of the world, hopefully under a rock with the other cockroaches.
“You’re done for the night anyway, right?” the quiet bartender asks Wyatt.
My eyes flick to the glasses on the tabletop, barely a sip of bourbon left between them. I down what’s left of mine to get a better taste in my mouth after that exchange that left me fired up with no outlet.
“Yeah,” Wyatt confirms.
“We’ll get some fresh air,” Weston suggests.
Dallas hands us four bottles of water as we pass by the bar on our way out with a nod of thanks for not making a scene.
The guys toss out a few ideas before we settle on hanging out in the parking lot where their pickups are all parked. Wyattdrops the tailgate on his navy Ram, and we settle in, the three of us standing around while Ronnie props himself up on the back of the truck, one leg hanging over the edge of the tailgate.
