Her words drift through my head. No. I don’t for one minute think Mimi is—
Someone in front of me moves one way, the person in front of them another, and I see her through the crowd. See the back of her head, at least, the light catching her blond ponytail. There’s a man in front of her. He towers over her, all smiles and slick hair.
No. Whatever that is, it’s not happening. No and fuck no, I decide, beginning to push my way through the crowd, ignoring the complaints of those between me and her. My chest expands, my heart seeming to salsa somewhere inside it. It doesn’t matter if she’s trying to make me jealous because we’ve gone way past that.
The closer I get, the more the arsehole looks like the poster boy for steroid abuse. A pounding starts at my left temple as he puts a hand the size of a shovel on her shoulder. I’m not small, but fuck me, he is huge. A strobe light passes over the pair, making it hard to tell if he moved his hand or if Mimi moved her shoulder, not that it matters because I’ll snap his hand off if he touches her again. I don’t care if he’s built like a brick shit house—his dick could be dipped in chocolate, and it’s still not happening. She’s leaving with no one else but me tonight, even if that means I have to chuck her over my shoulder and drag her kicking and screaming from the place.
Connor, my friend, better me than him, surely,I think, the moment before, thanks to a dip in the music, I hear:
“… not interested!” Her irritation is clear. “Don’t touch me!” she demands as her shoulder jerks out of his reach again. In three steps, I’m by her side, and I realize the prick is holding her wrist. “Get off.” Her voice shrill with distress.
Something inside me snaps. I don’t see red. I see black as a veil descends over me.
“Sweetheart.” I press a kiss to her temple as I give her shoulder a light, reassuring squeeze. She slants me a narrowed glance, which could be Mimi speak fortook you long enough. In the time it takes for this exchange, I’ve slid her sparkly clutch into my jacket pocket and wrapped my fingers around her arm, just above his.
“The lady isn’t interested.” I turn to the prick, whose biceps are so big, he probably has difficulty taking a piss.
“Fuck off,” comes his less-than-eloquent reply. If anything, his fingers tighten. Mimi tries to yank her arm away, but I still her, curling my fingers over hers.
“Have it your way,” I mutter. Tightening my grip on Mimi, I hook my leg behind his, unbalancing his footing just enough to make him stumble. Which isn’t really the point of the exercise. I just need him to turn a little so I can…
Thwack
I punch him in the kidney. I get him a good one too, judging by the strangled groan he makes as he drops to all fours.
“Come on.” I twist my hand from Mimi’s wrist to her fingers, tugging her along as I move briskly away.
“What was that?” she yells near my ear.
“A bit of MMA,” I answer over my shoulder, mainly to see if the dick is back on his feet. It won’t do to hang around.
“Em em what?”
“Mixed martial arts. Let’s not hang about, eh?” He might be pissing blood, or he might just be really pissed.
“Oh. Yeah, right.”
“Don’t look behind you,” I say, wrapping my arm around her back as I pull her into my side. “And don’t look guilty.”
“What? Are we going to get in trouble?”
“Nightclub owners aren’t keen on their patrons fighting, no matter which side of the velvet rope they’ve paid to be on. More importantly,” I add, pulling her closer, “VirTu could do without the publicity.”
We get almost as far as the door when a hand on my shoulder yanks my hand from Mimi’s. Without saying a word, the slightly green-looking arsehole catches me with a right hook. I twist from the majority of the impact, though I’m conscious of Mimi’s shrill scream. My instinct is to protect her as I barrel into him, getting my hands around his waist to slam my knee between his legs. There’s no such thing as dirty fighting; ask any one of my brothers. There’s only winning and making sure you’ve still got a pretty nose at the end of it. But we don’t get that far as security piles onto us, landing a few indiscriminate punches before pulling us apart. Mimi yells about how she was attacked, pointing a finger at the now raging bull of a man as he’s restrained by the bouncers. He doesn’t do himself any favors as he spews a mouth full of obscenities.
“This place is a fucking joke,” I begin, ranting over the top of him. “What the hell are you doing to protect your clientele? I’ll have my legal team on this come Monday morning.”
“I thought you didn’t want any attention,” Mimi mutters, pulling on my arms.
“Smoke and mirrors, sweetheart.” Pulling her close, I press my lips to her ear. “Play along.”
“That man attacked me,” she says, bursting into an impressive bout of fake hysterics. “I want to go home!” It isn’t long before we’re escorted to the door rather than ejected, which I assume will be what happens to the arsehole. But hopefully not right now.
* * *
“Let me look at your lip.”
I instinctively twist away as she reaches out. “I’ve had worse,” I say, taking her hand instead. “What were you doing with him, anyway?” Her brows flicker briefly with confusion. “The meathead,” I elaborate.
