I held out my hand to stop him. “Not tonight, man. I’m just here trying to have a good time.”
He recoiled like he’d been slapped. “Seriously, dude? It’s just a fucking picture. What—are you too good to talk to your fans now?”
“That’s not it,” I began, but McKenzie squared up to the hipster dipshit, and I tightened my grip on her.
“He saidno,” McKenzie spat through gritted teeth.
His gaze shifted to her for a second too long, and I thought I was about to get into my first sober bar fight. But then he brought his stony face back to me, glaring as though he was sizing me up.
“Whatever,” the guy said, leaning close enough that I could smell the gin on his breath. “Everybody knows Jax was the real talent. You’re nothing but a fucking drunk and—”
His tirade was interrupted when McKenzie’s fist connected with his mouth in a resounding thud that told me both he and McKenzie would be hurting in the morning.
“He. Said. No,” she barked, not backing down. “Leave him alone.”
The guy swiped his hand over his bleeding lip. “You little bitch.”
He took a step closer to her, and that was all it took for me to break. With fistfuls of his shirt clutched in my hands, I slammed him into the nearest wall.
“Touch her and fucking die,” I snapped. “Do you understand me?”
Suddenly, he was out of words.
“Say it,” I seethed.
“I understand,” he said without looking at me.
McKenzie tugged on my arm. “Luca, we have to go.”
The bouncer stalked toward us, and I released the asshole with one last shove.
As security got closer, he found his voice again. “You’re a piece of shit, you know that? You’ll fucking regret this.”
I didn’t turn around as we headed for the door. With one arm around McKenzie’s shoulders, I held my other high enough that he would see it and gave him my middle finger.
FIFTEEN
McKenzie
“Are you okay?”Luca asked as we stumbled into the chilly night.
I clutched my throbbing fingers. “I’m fine,” I choked out.
“Let me see,” he said, taking my right hand in his, inspecting the tender flesh. “Can you move it?”
“Fuck.” I winced, squeezing my eyes shut. “That hurts.”
“Okay, well the good news is, I don’t think it’s broken.”
“And what’s the bad news?” I asked through clenched teeth.
He tilted his head, scrunching up his face in a way that said he regretted the news he was about to deliver.
“It’s gonna hurt like a son of a bitch for a couple days.”
I rolled my eyes. “Thanks, doc, for your astute assessment.”
“You didn’t tell me you were a street fighter,” he teased, stroking my palm with his thumb. “Do you have any frozen peas at home?”
