The music drowned out to white-noise as I made my way through the sea of bodies leading toward Cheyenne.
“Get your fuckin’ hand off me.” Her voice was laced with venom, her stance promising violence.
The man’s grip tightened as I came upon them, but he didn’t notice me, not as he growled out, “What’re you gonna do about it?”
“I think she just told you to get your hands off her.” I don’t know how I even managed to get the words out. My jaw was clenched so tightly I was surprised it hadn’t broken, shattered. My heart thundered in my chest, hard enough to crack ribs.
Cheyenne glanced up at me, her gaze meeting mine as I came to a stop beside her. A mixture of panic and rage blazed in the bright depths, and I knew right then and there who this was. I’d never seen the asshole, but I didn’t need an introduction, the way he interacted with her said it all. The unexplainable fury. The way his eyes dropped to her stomach, a look of pure disgust coating his features.
Nate.
He wasn’t what I’d expected with long, shoulder-length dark hair, dark, angry eyes, a five o’ clock shadow beard. He wore a black tank top and jeans, no doubt to show off his half sleeve and bulging biceps. But it didn’t matter how much he could lift if he didn’t get his goddamn hand of Cheyenne.
I’d fucking kill him.
The thought alone should have given me pause, but I didn’t care. I’d spent most of my childhood being bruised and beaten by a piece of shit just like him. I wasn’t a kid anymore, and I’d be damned if I stood by. No one would threaten her. Especially not him.
Nate looked at me, some of his bravado faltering for a moment until he recovered enough to say, “This doesn’t concern you,friend. I suggest you stay out of it.”
Friend.I always hated when people used that word as a threat. It took everything in me not to throw a punch at him right then and there. But I wanted to at least give Cheyenne the chance to handle this herself. Maybe the night didn’t need to end in violence.
A part of me—a deep, dark, forbidden part of me—found that a shame.
Cheyenne used the moment as a distraction, wrenching her arm toward her, but Nate’s hold held firm. He yanked her back toward him, gripping her tight enough to wrench a pain-laced gasp from her lips. His attention snapped back to Cheyenne as he lowered his face dangerously close to hers, growling, “You and I need to settle some shit.”
I shook, fists clenched to the point my nails dug into the meat of my palms. The mild pain did little to quell the tide of anger that rose and rose and rose with each passing moment.
No more. This conversation was over.
Every muscle in my body tensed as I made to move forward and rip his hand from her. No more standing by idly. I wouldn’t let him hurt her. But before I could move, Cheyenne’s entire demeanor changed. Hardened.
“Fuck you, Nate,” she snarled, before spitting in his face.
He let her go, an annoyed growl escaping him as he swiped at his cheek. If I’d thought he was pissed before, it didn’t compare tothe shift in him right now. Dark, malicious intent flickered to life in his gaze, his hand rising.
I knew that look. That stance. I’d grown up with all my life.
Memories and nightmares of my father fueled my anger like kindling on a fire.
He didn’t even draw his hand back fully before I moved.
I stepped forward, my hand gripping his forearm and wrenching it back while turning him away from me. He struggled in my grip, bucking and thrashing, grunts of anger and curses ringing through the air. People stopped to watch, curious expressions on their faces, but I paid them no heed as I pushed Nate toward the closest exit.
“Get the fuck off me, man!” Nate growled even as I put more pressure on his arm. “This has nothin’ to do with you.”
“You wanna hit someone?” I grumbled in his ear, “You can try and hit me.”
He struggled against me, but I continued to hold firm. Each step sent a surge of adrenaline pumping through my veins. I sensed Ryder and Cash on either side of me, always there. Always having my back.
Cash slipped by me to push open the door, the cold night a welcome reprieve from the heat of the dancehall. The scent of cigarettes and tobacco filled my nose, the chatter of the small group of people outside nothing compared to a few moments ago.
I shoved Nate with enough force to make him stumble to his knees in the middle of the parking lot. Rolling my shoulders, Iunbuttoned my sleeves and pushed them up over my forearms, allowing for more movement.
“Looks like this dickhead’s got friends,” Cash warned, low and close to my ear.
My gaze settled on the two men making their way over to Nate and helping him up. “Should be easy for you two, yeah?” I asked, glancing between Cash and Ryder.
Cash’s usually easy-going grin was positively feral, the glint in his hazel eyes promising trouble. He’d always been a hot-head, and he loved nothing more than the thrill of a fight…well, aside from maybe a good lay. Ryder’s demeanor was more serious, his dark eyes glinting with the same level of intensity as when he was about to get on a bull. He cracked his neck, stretching it one way and then the other.
