The drunk man laughs.“Mind your business.”
The man in the leather steps closer.Slow.Controlled.The air around him feels heavier somehow.“This is my business.”
“Since when?”Drunk man challenges.
“Since you decided to grab her.”
The drunk man snorts.“She ain’t complaining.”
I finally find my voice.“Yes I am.”
The biker’s gaze flicks to me briefly.Something soft flashes there.Then it disappears as if it never occurred leaving me wondering if I was losing my mind.
He looks back at the drunk.“You heard her.”
The drunk tightens his grip on my wrist.“Why don’t you make me?”
The biker doesn’t hesitate.His fist moves so fast I barely see it.
CRACK.
The sound echoes through the bar as the drunk’s head snaps sideways.
My wrist is suddenly free.The man staggers backward, crashing into a table.Chairs scrape.Glass shatters.People shout.Chaos ensues.
The biker grabs the front of the drunk’s shirt and slams him down onto the table with a bone-rattling thud.“You don’t touch women like that,” he growls knocking the man’s head into the wooden table again.“She said let her go.You let her go.”
The drunk man swings wildly.Misses.The biker drives another punch into his jaw.Then another.Someone yells, “Hey!”Followed by the bartender shouting something about taking it outside.But the biker already has the man by the collar again.
“Say you’re sorry.”
The drunk spits blood and curses.Bad choice.The biker slams him through the table.Wood splinters.The bar goes silent.The drunk groans and doesn’t get up.For a moment no one moves.Then the biker straightens slowly and wipes his knuckles on his jeans like nothing unusual just happened.
He turns toward me.My heart is hammering so hard I can hear it.Up close he’s even bigger.Broad shoulders.Dark eyes.A scar cutting through one eyebrow.Evident sun lines around his eyes draw me in to his crystal blue eyes.His face is sun kissed but rugged.And something about him radiates pure, controlled danger.
“Are you okay?”His voice is softer now.
I nod automatically.“I—I think so.”
He glances down at my wrist.A faint red mark is forming where the man grabbed me.His jaw tightens.“Did he hurt you?”
“No.”My voice sounds small.
He nods once.“Good.”
Behind him, two guys drag the drunk man toward the door while the female bartender mutters about broken tables.
The biker steps slightly closer.“Do you have someone with you tonight?”
“No, but I need to get home to my daughter.”
He studies me for a moment.And it feels like he’s seeing more than I’m saying.“Let me walk you outside.”
“I’m okay,” I reply quickly.But even as I say it, I realize my hands are still shaking.His gaze drops to them.Then back to my face.
“Humor me.”Something about the way he says it isn’t pushy.
It’s steady.Reliable.
