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They start dragging me away toward the back office, and something ugly snaps in my chest. I've seen the kind of shit they do to people in that room who can't pay.

I react on instinct, elbowing the guy behind me square in the gut. He grunts, loosening his grip enough for me to rip free and make a run for it.

Bad call.

The first punch comes before I can make it to the bathroom, straight to my temple. Pain explodes behind my eyes as I stumble back, barely staying on my feet. Someone grabs my hoodie and slams me into the wall, blasting the breath from my lungs.

“You fucking whore,” one of my attackers growls.

My knee connects with someone's dick, knuckles clipping a cheek. Blood floods my tongue from a blow to the jaw. The room starts to spin, noise warping in my ears like I'm underwater.

“Let me go, you piece of shit,” I holler before another fist lands on my ribs. Then another, sending me to the floor. I curl into myself instinctively, protecting my face as multiple pairs of steel-toed boots connect with my sides and back.

I am so fucking fucked.

This is it.

This is how I die: Stomped to death in some dive bar in Salt Lake City by two meatheads who barely share a brain cell between them. Over cocaine.

How fucking embarrassing.

Another blow cracks against my stomach, blacking out my vision. When I try to push onto my knees, a foot pins me back down, trapping me. Panic floods my senses.

Please. Not again. I can’t⁠—

A roar cuts through the bar, silencing everyone. “Hey, motherfucker!”

The weight on my back vanishes, followed by the unmistakable sound of a body hitting something hard. Shouts echo around me as glass shatters to the floor.

“What the hell⁠—”

Coughing, I roll onto my side just in time to see fucking Christian Totillo slam one of Arnie’s guys face-first into a table. Beer and liquor spray everywhere.

“Get the fuck off of him,” he snarls, dark hair wild around his shoulders.

One of the bikers lunges, but he ducks and drives his shoulder into the guy’s chest, sending him sprawling across the floor. The other hesitates to retaliate just a second too long, but Christian doesn’t. His boot catches the asshole in the leg, but not before a third dude jumps into the mix, arms swinging.

“Christian,” someone shouts from the pool tables. “Stop hitting people!”

“Tell them to stop hitting me first!” he shouts back, dodging another hit.

I'm off the floor in seconds, rushing to stop him because I can't just lie here while he gets his shit rocked over me. My arms wrap around his waist right as he takes a hit to the jaw, and I haul him back against my chest.

The moment his weight hits me, everything seems to halt. “Easy, hot shot,” I breathe, unable to help sliding my palm up over his racing heart. “Relax.”

Christian goes limp in my arms, almost as if his body is sighing in relief. It surprises me enough that I drop my lips against his hair, inhaling the scent of motor oil clinging to the strands. Fuck, I forgot what it feels like to just… hold someone. I don't want to let him go.

But Christian doesn't give me a choice.

He sobers quickly, muscles stiffening once again as he yanks himself from my grip.

And then the gorgeous asshole turns around to deck me right in the face.

CHAPTER FOUR

Christian

Devon rocks back, glaring at me with watery eyes.