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“Jesus fucking Christ,” Maverick called out. “This bullshit again? Think I’d be drinking this bottom-shelf shit if I had money from a casino robbery laying around?” he said as he held up his glass. Stephanie, his former-FBI ol’ lady, rolled her eyes and shoved his arm down before whispering something in his ear that had him kissing her.
From next to LJ, Holly gasped. His blood went from a slow simmer to a complete boil in milliseconds. Fucking great, now she thought they were fucking masked bank robbers, straight out of Hollywood. Not five minutes ago, he’d had his face buried between her legs and would have gladly spent the entire night there. Now he couldn’t stand the fucking sight of her judgment and disgust.
He took a step away from her. Just being in her energy space was intolerable.
“If you’re a member of the club or in a relationship with a member of the club, you stay. If you’re just here for the party you are free to leave after an officer does a quick personal scan on your way out,” Schwartz said.
The urge to wipe that fucking king-shit smirk off the deputy’s face with one hard punch was almost more than LJ could resist. Schwartz said something to one of the other officers then laughed. He was fucking loving this.
“This is bullshit,” Holly whispered.
What? He stared down at her. Mouth flat, eyes narrowed, she stood with her arms folded and plumping those delicious tits. She didn’t seem to notice she’d propped those beauties sky high. Her sexy body vibrated with…anger?
“Seriously, LJ,” she said as though he hadn’t been sending her hate vibes for the past ten minutes. “This is complete bullshit. Look at him.” She gestured toward Schwartz. “This isn’t real police work. This is him being an ass and getting his rocks off on a Saturday night because he’s bored and doesn’t have a woman.”
LJ blinked. Holly grew more worked up by the second. Those pretty eyes shot fire in Dicky’s direction. That wasn’t faked indignation. She was furious on his behalf, on his club’s behalf.
Shit. He’d gotten it wrong. Holly hadn’t lied, or conned him, or used her body to manipulate. She was just as blown away by this raid as he was.
“Who the fuck is talking? Did I not make myself clear when I said to shut the fuck up?” Dick walked in LJ and Holly’s direction. “I got plenty of room in a cell downtown for anyone who can’t keep their trap shut for ten min—Holly?”
The shock in Dicky’s voice was music to LJ’s ears, and he bit his lip to keep from cracking up. The high was short-lived.
“Are you all right, Holly?” he asked, stepping closer, his face drawn in what LJ could only assume was concern. As though he was worried about Holly’s safety. Maybe worried some bikers had dragged her here by the hair and that’s why it had that post-fucked wildness about it.
Nope, Dicky, that’s one hundred percent post-tongue-fucking hair.
Schwartz placed his palm on Holly’s bare shoulder, and LJ saw red. He started to reach out and yank her out of the fucker’s grip, but Rocket caught his gaze and shook his head once.
Fuck.
Would Holly even choose him, or would she shrink from his touch? He’d been a shit to her since Zach knocked on the door. Doubted her, snapped at her, embarrassed her. Wouldn’t surprise him at all if she told him to fuck off and begged Dicky to whisk her away.
Wouldn’t surprise him, but it would fucking gut him. And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it because his safe haven was swarming with cops.
The room wasn’t as silent as it had been a few moments ago as the people only there for the party started to leave.
LJ sucked in a breath, and it caught somewhere in his chest.
Shit. There it went. Starting again. Fucking twice in one night. He tried a second time to inhale, but the air didn’t make it past his throat, which got tighter and narrower by the second. Sweat broke out across his forehead. Black dotted his vision. Schwartz’s words grew muffled, as though the cop spoke from the opposite end of a long tunnel, thanks to the rushing in LJ’s ears.
“Let’s get you out of here, okay, Holly? Has anyone threatened you? Hurt you?” Schwartz asked Holly as he stroked a hand down her arm.
LJ’s nostrils flared. He tried to speak, to tell Dicky to get his clammy fucking hands off her, but all that came out was a strangled wheeze.
Helplessness did it every fucking time. And he’d never been more helpless than he was standing there while some bastard had his hands on his woman.
Not that she was his woman.
Fuck.
Holly cast a glance in his direction, and her brows immediately drew down. Dicky didn’t seem to notice LJ was seconds away from totally losing his shit. And no one wanted that to happen.
