My hand closes around his wrist and I slam it flat on the pool table in one motion, hard enough that balls roll across the felt. I get in close.
“You touch my wife again,” I say, “I’ll break every finger on that hand. Slowly. And then I’ll start on the other one.”
He squirms beneath my hold, but he’s not going anywhere, not with the grip I have on him.
He blurts out, “All these years and you’re still a fucking psycho.” His face is red, voice slightly strangled. “Ice cold until you snap.”
I apply slow, steady pressure to the wrist joint.He hisses through his teeth.
“This is me being reasonable,” I say coolly. “You’ll know the difference if I stop.”
He makes a sound between a grunt and a yelp.
I tell him, “You also owe my wife an apology for touching her.”
He glares hatefully up at me so I twist harder.His face has gone tomato-red. Sweat at his temple.
“Fine, fine!” he moans. That red-eyed glare transfers to Lila, who’s looking back at him unimpressed, her arms folded.
“I’m sorry,” he grits.
Lila just touches my shoulder. “Let’s get out of here,” she says in a low voice.
I release him and straighten up and turn to my wife.
Because I’m in the process of turning my back on Hutchins—big mistake—I don’t see the punch coming.
Chapter 44
Sucker Punch
SLADE
The punch catches me across the jaw and snaps my head hard to the right. White flashes behind my eyes. The taste of copper fills my mouth.
My body responds before my brain does.
I spin and my fist connects with his face. Full force, no hesitation, the same instinct that’s taken down men a lot more vicious and in better shape than the likes of him. The crack of it is loud enough to cut through the bar noise. He goes back into the pool table hard, balls scattering across the felt, as he grabs the edge to keep from going down.
I close the distance in one step and get him by the collar.
There’s a roaring in my ears that isn’t entirely from the punch. Last time I got in an altercation was on ice skates with an opposing team captain ready to murder me. That fight didn’t even raise my heart rate.
But my blood feels hot as it pounds through my veins right now.
Hockey is one thing. But this asshole disrespected my wife.
I pull my fist back.
All it will take is one more, right on the jaw. He’ll go down and stay down.
Before I can finish the fight, the bar erupts.
Tanner springs into action, pulling me back by my good shoulder. Walker plants himself in front of me, and there are raised voices and a bar stool going over and bodies pressing in from every direction, and someone has Boone by the waist, hauling him back, and John Sutton is coming around the bar shouting, and then Lila is in front of me.
“Slade.” Her voice cuts through everything. “Come with me. Right now.”
She takes my hand.
