Page 5 of Mountain Grump Protector

Hell no.

I’m off the stool before I’ve even made a decision.

“I’m in.”

All heads turn in my direction. Hatch’s grin falters. We have an understanding, he and I. He doesn’t bother me, and I don’t go looking into whatever activities he’s actually running out of the back of the bar.

Turns out, this bothers me.

He’s watching me like he’s trying to decide if I’m being friendly or if he’s about to have a problem.

I cross the room slowly. His asshole friends step back, giving me space.

The girl’s eyes snap to mine. I see a flash of relief followed very quickly by the cloud of suspicion. This woman clearly has only had one kind of experience with men, and she’s not about to blindly trust me.

Smart.

“Didn’t take you for a betting man, Cal.”

“I’m not.” I stop two feet in front of him. He’s still got his fingers wrapped around her arm tight enough; I see her skin turning white. “Let go of her.”

“What?”

“Her arm. Let it go.”

“She’s the prize, bud.” He laughs. “I think I’ll⁠—”

“I’m not your bud.” I lower my voice. He flinches like I raised my hand. “And I said, let her go.”

He does. She takes a quick step back, but to her credit, she knows enough not to run. She doesn’t look at me either.

“Closest to the bullseye gets the girl? That’s the deal?” I see her shudder at my question, and I hate myself for having to say it out loud, but I need to know the rules. “And her brother’s debt? Paid?”

“You win, you pay it,” he says, seeing a way he might come out on top. “All of it. Closest to the bulls-eye, take the girl and the brother’s debt.” His eyes drag over her one more time, slowly, just enough to make sure I see it. “Six grand.”

It was less than five a few minutes ago, and only twenty-eight hundred before that. We both know it. We also both know those weren’t the rules before I got involved.

But there’s no version of this where I argue with him in front of his men. Just like there’s no version of this where I leave her in this room with these assholes a second longer than necessary.

“Six grand. Done.”

She makes a small sound. Half-breath, half something I don’t have a name for, but I don’t look at her. I know what she thought she just heard. She thinks I put a price on her, the same way Hatch did.

She’s not entirely wrong, but we’ll sort that out later.

“Your throw.” I nod toward Hatch, who picks up his dart.

He throws. It hits the center ring. It’s a good shot.

“Beat that, Reeves.”

I pick up a dart and roll it around in my fingers as I step up to the line. I don’t bother looking at the woman again. Not until this is finished.

I lift my arm, take aim, and make the shot.

Bullseye.

“What? That’s not⁠—”