Paul Brookheart was another SEAL who had gotten out of the military before his body was beat all to hell. ‘Moose’, as he'd been called in the teams, had created a protection service for the rich and famous that had begun to settle into the area. Drake glanced at him now. The big man had an arm curled protectively over the shoulders of his beautiful love, Morgan Larrick, an interior designer. She'd been his first job in the area, and Drake thought she would also be his last if the look in their eyes was anything to go by.
Letting the conversation swirl around him, he glanced around the area.
The pink decorations were enough to give him a seizure, but he guessed the party had been well-done. There were frilly decorations on every conceivable surface, or pretty colored beads. There were plenty of snacks and tubs of beer sitting right beside the caviar and champagne, and everyone was getting along even though they were very different demographics. The main buffet would be served in a while, once the bride and groom arrived.
There was a flash of blond out of the corner of his eye and he turned his head in time to see the woman from earlier being tugged like a boat through the crowd by a glowering, dark-haired man. Drake's senses spiked as he saw Izzy's face. She was not happy. No, more than that, she was struggling to get her hand free. With a jerk, she snatched her hand away, crossing her arms over her breasts. The man leaned into her face and words were exchanged, before he held out an arm mockingly for her to precede him through the door.
After a moment, Izzy walked through the door.
Before he even realized what he was doing he'd left the boat team and strode across the venue, cowboy boots pounding. Ducking through the same hallway the couple had he quieted his steps down the carpeted hallway of the opulent lodge. He'd lost sight of them but he thought they might still be close.
A woman screamed, but it was quickly silenced, as if a hand had been slammed over her mouth. Heart thudding, he followed the muffled cry.
Izzy dragged her feet, but she ended up tripping because of the damn heels she'd promised Kiko she would wear for the wedding. They tangled her feet and gave Brendon that much more leverage on her arm.
"Come on, Izzy. We need to get some things straight. You seem to think you have the control in this relationship."
She took offense at the words. "Whatever. Relationship? Really? Okay, let’s talk. Like why don’t you tell me why the hell you came to the wedding of one of my best friends and acted like an asshole? Are you drunk? Doing drugs? You weren’t like this yesterday at dinner, so you’re obviously on something. Or is this your natural behavior coming out?"
Quicker than a snake Brendon turned and shoved her up against a wall. They were well away from the crowd now in some kind of employee break room and as he leaned into her face, breath reeking, Izzy realized it probably wasn't a good idea to antagonize him. He’d already had too much to drink or snort. No. Fuck that. If he had plans for her to ‘straighten up’ she had better be making noise. She could only hope that one of those crazy, semi-drunk SEALs out there just outside the door could hear her. Opening her mouth, she screamed.
The hand that slapped over her mouth was not careful and her head ricocheted off the wall. Struggling, she used her other hand to slap at Brendon but he leered into her face. "Go ahead and fight. Doesn't bother me at all. Actually, it excites me."
He leaned his hips into her suggestively and Izzy felt exactly how excited he was, but she wasn’t impressed. She began to kick out harder, but he was too close for her to get any leverage.
The hand over her mouth was also blocking her airway. In desperation she raked her freshly done nails down the side of his face, taking skin in a long scrape. Immediately he drew her head back with his strong hand and slammed her against the wall again. Bright bursts of color washed out her vision and then it began to dim. Oh, hell. If he knocked her out, she would be in trouble.
She fought with a desperation she had never felt before. Just because he was bigger it didn't mean that he was going to win this. Arching her back away from the wall she reached for something to fight with. Her fingers snagged a wooden something and she gripped it, swinging with all her might. The industrial plunger struck Brendon in the side of the head, making him stagger.
But then suddenly she was free. Her rubbery legs gave out beneath her and she slumped to the floor, landing hard on her hands and knees. She gasped for air and looked up, trying to see where her assailant had gone.
The badass guy with the skull-trim and the fierce, cold eyes, Drake, had taken Brendon to the floor and had twisted his arms into pretzels. The younger man cried out in pain and Izzy found herself grinning. "That's what you get, you stupid ass."
Brendon didn't seem to be listening, though. His focus was on the immovable force on his back about to break his arms. Izzy kind of wished Drake would just break them. Instead he leaned down and began whispering in Brendon's ear. Izzy couldn’t hear what he said, but it must have been frightening. At first the younger man gave no response. Then Drake's words began to slow down and Brendon's eyes widened. Finally, he nodded and Drake let him up.
Brendon moved slowly, as if afraid he would be jumped again. He turned to her as if to apologize, then something went hard in his bloodshot eyes. With a sudden lunge he lurched at her rescuer, small flip blade pocketknife in hand. Izzy cried out as they made contact, then the newcomer's fists were flying. Brendon went down like a ton of bricks, groaning. Blood had splattered all around his nose and coated his chin. That sucker was pulverized.
Her rescuer scowled down at Brendon on the ground. "Seriously? You're in a group of Navy SEALs and you pull a damn pocket knife on me?"
Drake reached behind his back and drew out a truly fearsome black blade, at least a foot long, serrated on one side. Holy crap!
Brendon finally seemed to realize how outclassed he was. Pushing to his feet, dragging the sleeve of his shirt across his face, he turned to her. "I'm sorry things got out of hand. It was all a misunderstanding."
He turned, supporting his wrenched arm, and left. The Navy SEAL slipped the blade away without even looking and stepped toward her.
Izzy couldn't believe how quickly her situation had turned around. One minute she was being harassed and the next she was being saved by what she thought was a drunk wedding guest. He hadn’t moved like he was intoxicated though. He’d moved like a movie hero. She staggered to her feet and leaned against the wall. Drake stepped close enough to grip her elbow and Izzy jerked in surprise at the warmth of his hand against her skin. Oh, she didn't expect that.
She looked up at his harsh face. Damn. The expression he wore was completely terrifying, but not necessarily to her. He stared at the door Brendon had bolted through as if waiting for him to come back. Then the coldest silvery ice gray eyes she'd ever seen turned her way.
"Are you okay?"
The sound of his rumbling, rough baritone sent a shiver through her gut, but again, not in fear. No, the reaction she felt was completely more dangerous.
"I-I'm fine, I think." Izzy blinked. Had she actually just stuttered for a man? She lifted a hand to her head. "He just rattled my bones. I don’t think I’ll even have a knot."
The man turned to her fully and reached a hand up to replace hers, rubbing gently. If possible, his expression hardened even more. "You might," he said. Then his gaze drifted lower. "You do have a split lip."
A hard thumb gently brushed against the area and Izzy realized it was throbbing as well. When he drew his hand away there was blood on the pad of his thumb.
