“Mason,” I whisper-yell, pulling it down. But he clasps both my wrists in a tight grip and moves them away. Cold air pebbles my skin as he lifts my dress to my waist, immediately replaced by heat when his warm fingers brush the bruise, just above the strap of my panties. I squirm in his hold, but he doesn’t let go.
“Did Powell do this to you?” he hisses, his face slowly twisting in fury.
“What? No!” I all but shout, fighting his grip. He lets me free and I yank my dress down, looking around consciously. Thankfully, we are alone.
“Don’t fuck with me, Eva,” Mason growls in my face. “Who did this to you?”
“Why don’t you ask your friend?” His brows furrow at my unexpected answer.
“Who?” His nostrils flare, eyes feral, hands fisted by his side.
I stare at him speechless.
“Who?” he asks again, louder, making me shake a little.
“Hugo,” I mumble, my voice barely a whisper. “He didn’t actually hurt me. He just?—”
My words are left hanging as Mason storms down the hallway like a bull in a ring, before I was done talking. How has this man not spontaneously combusted by now? My feet hesitate for a moment before I will them to follow him. Probably not the best idea, logically speaking, but maybe he’ll lead me to the poker suites.
I struggle to keep up with Mason as he turns the corner and then barges into a room, loud and impossible to ignore. I catch one glimpse of the poker table with chips laid out, then rush to wedge my foot in the door before it clicks shut. But I stay outside, watching through a gap in the door.
“Game’s over,” Mason barks. “Out!”
“What the fuck?” Hugo groans from the head of the table, huffing a breath. “Who lit your fuse now?”
“You!” Mason’s fingers tighten around Hugo’s collar, then he hauls him up and drives him into the wall.
Curses and low whispers ripple through the room, players watching the slow-motion brawl curiously. Inside, the bouncer rises from his nook. With his back to me, he moves in a flash and starts herding people toward the exit. I flatten myself against the outside wall, trying to blend into the plaster as they start to leave.
The dealer needs no motivation. He’s already packed up. First one out of the room. Closely followed by others, including Caden, Chris and Nick. Once all the players are out of sight, I turn around and come face to chest with a slab of muscle blocking my path—the bouncer with the name tag, Bruno.
“You too,” he rumbles.
“Sure,” I reply quickly, as he begins to edge me out. “Can I please settle my friend’s account first? Caden Powell.”
He stares at me as if he’s misheard me. I guess it’s not typical for people to pay up in advance. I don’t know how this works, but I don’t want anything outstanding on Caden’s name. Unlike everyone else in my world, my friend can’t afford a mark on his credit.
A loud, heavy thud makes both our heads jerk toward the back of the room.
“Fuck!” Hugo spits and doubles over, blood spurting out of his nose, while Mason stands towering over him, his fist still cocked. “Not my fucking face, you fucking prick,” Hugo howls.
“Get out before I break a bone.” Mason motions toward the door.
Bruno stands aside as Hugo starts to stalk out, one hand pressed against his face, then pauses mid-step when he sees me, eyes seething, smirk gone.
“Keep walking,” Mason hisses.
Hugo throws me a dirty look but leaves, cursing Mason under his breath. I ignore them both and step into the room.
“Can we settle the payment?” I whisper to Bruno.So, I can get the hell out of here?
He grunts and fetches a digital tablet from his nook. My lips part when I see Caden’s name on the screen. He really did borrow ten thousand pounds. 8 percent interest. Is he crazy? The interest alone will bankrupt him.
“Card?” Bruno asks, typing into his machine.
Sticking close to the door, I dig into my purse to find my cards. But it’s snatched out of my hands, leaving my fingers curled around nothing but air.
“No Etheridge money in Fort,” Mason grumbles, then turns to Bruno. “Get it settled.”
