“Good. Because I will. I swear to it.”
There are cheers as someone hits the ground in the ring. Her eyes fly open, but I cup her jaw, preventing her from looking over. I suspect the match might be wrapping up.
“Come on.” I put my hands on her waist and lift her up.As I stand, the two—maybe three—men watching us perk up. “Let’s go pick a fight with Shane Robertson.”
Besides, I don’t think we have much of a choice at this point.
We findNoah and Meadow standing in silence, him with arms crossed, her with hands on her hips.
“Never leave me with her again,” Noah says when we approach.
“What? Why?” Meadow asks, looking up at him and blinking her eyes dramatically. “Just because you’re no fun and won’t take shots with me doesn’t mean I’m insufferable.”
“That’s exactly what it means.” He stares down at her.
“No, it means you’re not fun.”
“I need to stay sober.” Noah’s got his jaw clenched and rips his eyes from Callie’s half-sister. I kind of love that Meadow is harassing Noah. He’s clearly not used to it.
But there’s no time to think about that, because Shane pushes through the crowd, men slapping him on the back along the way. He stops at the man who was with Meadow when we first arrived. Shane accepts a wad of bills from him and slips it into his pocket. He looks around, nods at the thugs who trailed us back to Noah and Meadow, and then his eyes land on Callie. A nasty grin settles on his face as he heads our way.
“Callie.” Shane is sweaty, has a black eye getting worse by the second, and is holding a towel to his nose. He’s got old bruises on his face, and his other eye is clearly healing from a punch, the yellow and green seeping into his cheek.
It looks like he’s recovering from a nasty fight. Or a beating.
A flash of an odd look crosses his face. Fear? Panic? Before disappearing and being replaced by a cocky crooked smile mixed with hostility.
He’s not surprised to see her. Or me.
I look down at Callie, waiting for her to say something, but her eyes are wide and she looks terrified. Fuck. This asshole must’ve done a number on her if she’s suddenly meek and scared, not the brave, feisty woman I’ve known. I touch her in the middle of her back subtly, and she comes to life.
She steps forward but doesn’t close the gap between herself and Shane.
“Where have you been?” Callie’s expression is wild, her breathing erratic. “What the fuck, Shane?”
“Hell, stop screaming.” Shane has a nervous expression on his face and looks around, like he’s worried about others overhearing. Spoiler alert: They definitely do.
She takes another step toward him and raises her hand to poke his chest, but he grabs her wrist, and she flinches.
I see red. He’s touching her. He’s got his fucking hand on her body.
“Get off her,” I say, my voice sharp and dangerous.
“You’re hurting me,” Callie says, and my adrenaline spikes even higher than it already was.
“Aw, poor baby.” Shane looks her up and down, ignoring me completely.
“Let. Her. Fucking. Go.” I step forward and grab the wrist of the hand that’s gripping Callie, and wrap my other hand around his neck. Callie’s now tucked againstmy chest. “Now.”
Shane drops Callie’s hand, and she pushes back into me, but I don’t stop squeezing his neck.
“I should kill you,” I say.
“Wes,” Callie says, a low-level of panic in her voice. “Please don’t do that.”
I growl and let Shane go, but only because his stupid thugs have pushed their way to the edge of the crowd, and if I kill him now, it’ll be messy, and Callie won’t ever see her mother’s ring again.
Those are literally the only reasons I don’t end his life.
