Page 88 of Falling for the Playboy Pilot

That did it. The rational part of my brain shut down completely.

“Is that right?” I took a step closer, close enough that I could smell the cocky confidence radiating off him. “Well, this flyboy is telling you to back the fuck off.”

“Dalton, stop,” Janna hissed, but I was beyond hearing her.

Tyler moved to stand beside his buddy, both of them squaring their shoulders like they were ready for a fight. “Listen, man, we’re just being friendly. No need to get all worked up.”

“Friendly?” I laughed, but there was no humor in it. “That what you call putting your hands on her?”

“She fell into my lap,” Tyler said with a shrug. “Accident. Maybe you should ask her what she wants instead of acting like some caveman.”

The word “caveman” was a match to gasoline. I stepped forward, closing the distance between us until we were nearly chest to chest. “Maybe you should learn to keep your fucking hands to yourself.”

“Dalton!” Janna’s voice cut through the testosterone-fueled standoff. She pushed between us, her small hands pressed against my chest. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Nothing’s wrong with me,” I said, my voice rough. “Just don’t like seeing you get hassled.”

“I wasn’t being hassled,” she shot back. “I was having a conversation. You know that thing normal people do?”

We shoved each other before he threw the first punch. I dodged a sloppy right and grabbed him in a clinch—took him down with an elbow to the chest. His buddy lunged; I sidestepped. Two swift blows each, and both men hit the concrete, winded and shaken.

“What the fuck!” Janna screamed, her voice cutting through the sudden silence that had fallen over the tarmac.

I stood over the two hotshots, my chest heaving, knuckles already starting to swell. Tyler was clutching his ribs, trying to catch his breath, while Marcus had a hand pressed to his split lip. Blood trickled between his fingers.

“Dammit, Dalton!” Chief’s voice boomed across the concrete as he came running from the main building. “What the hell is going on here?”

I couldn’t answer. The rage was still coursing through me, making my hands shake. I’d lost control completely, and the worst part was, I didn’t even regret it. Not when I’d seen Tyler’s hands on her. Not when they’d looked at her like she was something they could just take.

“Get up,” I growled at the two men on the ground. “Both of you.”

Tyler struggled to his feet, his face twisted with pain and fury. “You’re fucking insane, man.”

“Dalton, back off!” Chief commanded, stepping between us. “Get out of here! Go cool off!”

I didn’t need to be told twice. I was already headed for my truck.

As soon as I got home, I went straight for the bottle of whiskey. My knuckles were red and swollen, and they stung like a son of a bitch. I grabbed a glass with my good hand and quickly filled it halfway. I knocked it back in one swallow, the burn doing nothing to ease the fire in my chest. My knuckles were split and angry. I should ice the hand, but first I needed another drink.

My hands were steadier now, but the rage was still there, simmering just below the surface. I’d lost my shit completely. In front of everyone. In front of Chief. In front of her.

I grabbed a bag of frozen peas from the freezer and pressed it against my knuckles, hissing at the cold. The pain was sharp, but it helped focus my thoughts. What the hell had I been thinking? Those hotshots hadn’t done anything I wouldn’t have done in their position. They’d seen a beautiful woman and shot their shot.

But when Tyler had pulled her into his lap, something primal had taken over. Something that didn’t give a damn about our casual arrangement or my carefully constructed walls. I’d seen another man’s hands on her and I’d snapped.