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Not him.

“What did you expect her to do?”

Not this.

Not here.

She should be somewhere else. With someone else.

“Cut him a break,” Kevlar said. “He’s young.”

Kid glared in his brother’s direction. There were seven years between them, and Carrie was merely five years Kid’s senior. These weren’t enormous gaps. What the hell was his point?

Kevlar smirked. “You can’t expect a kid in his twenties to understand a woman approaching her thirties. There’s something about a seasoned woman that requires an older man.”

“Fuck you,” Kid hissed as he slammed his bottle down on the table and shoved past Torch to get out of the booth.

His brother’s retort was a hearty chuckle.

Dickhead.

As he shifted his attention back to the bar, he noted cowboy cock-knocker was alone. The seat beside him was empty. Frantically, he surveyed the crowd. Where had Carrie gone?

A few feet away, headed toward the restrooms, Kid spotted her. Letting out a heavy breath, he relaxed. She was safe.

“She’s in the bathroom,” Kid called over his shoulder. “Aren’t you supposed to do that in groups?”

He lingered, waiting for Kelsey to get the hint. He wasn’t sure if she took her sweet-ass time to piss him off more or because she didn’t get what he meant, but eventually she paused beside him.

“Get your life together,” she warned, narrowing her eyes at him. “Shit or get off the pot. She doesn’t deserve these games. Especially after all she’s been through. I would think you, more than anyone, would understand that.”

Kevlar’s woman, whom he affectionately referred to as Kitten, held Kid in place with her icy stare. She wasn’t fucking around and had more balls than most men he met. He lifted his chin defiantly but remained where he stood until she turned from him.

As much as he hated to admit it, she had a point. He couldn’t get pissed off about her talking to other guys if he hadn’t claimed her. She was a free woman—able to do what she wanted. Vanessa could have a train run on her right in front of him, and he wouldn’t give a rat’s ass.

But Carrie…

Shaking his head, he came to terms with his own hypocrisy. He couldn’t keep pretending she meant nothing to him. He needed to nip this shit in the bud right now. No more playing games.

Carrie deserved better, so Kid would be that.

With piss and vinegar running through his veins, Kid marched toward the bar. His fingers curled into fists as his own stupidity enraged him.

The moment he was within arm’s reach of the guy who had been flirting with Carrie, he threw a punch. The force of a freight train surged through his knuckles and into the unsuspecting man’s jaw.

Caught off guard, Kid’s victim’s arms flew out as he fell off-balance and off the stool.

“The fuck?” someone asked as a group of people backed away from the two of them, giving them a wide berth.

Kid stood there, glaring down at the guy who had the nerve to talk to his woman.

Blinking wildly, groaning, and running a hand over his jaw, the man peered at Kid. “What was that for?”

Kid practically vibrated. “You so much as look at Carrie again, and I will fucking kill you.”

Scrambling to his feet, the guy shook his head. At his full height, the man that Kid had sucker punched had about an inch on him. Too bad that wouldn’t be to his advantage. Kid wasn’t above pulling his gun to get his point across.

Kid didn’t give a flying fuck about himself. He had nothing to lose in this situation. He’d vowed to protect Carrie, and as far as he was concerned, that meant from everything—including being hit on by asshats.