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“I'll get your drinks,” I said quickly.
I hurried away from their table, feeling Greg's eyes on me the entire time. I walked over to the bar and shuddered, taking a long breath and letting it out slowly as I tried to compose myself. Tommy stepped out of the back and poured himself a drink. “What's wrong, hot stuff?” he asked.
“Nothing,” I mumbled, giving my order to one of the other bartenders.
“Sure as hell looks like something crawled up your ass.”
“I said, nothing is wrong, Tommy.”
My voice came out harsher than I'd intended. Even Tommy didn't deserve the full brunt of my anger and I felt bad immediately after the words passed my lips.
First my dad. Then Greg. Now Tommy. I'd had enough with men in general and considering the fact that I still had an entire shift to work, I needed to keep it together. I couldn't go off on anyone tonight. Not if I wanted to keep my job.
“Hey, I did you a favor,” Tommy said. “Don't forget that.”
“You said I didn't owe you anything for it,” I snapped, still unable to keep my temper in check, even knowing he didn't deserve it. “If I knew you'd hold it over my head, I'd have done the damn dishes myself.”
“Yeah, well, maybe you do owe me, Casey,” Tommy said and glared at me.
“I don't owe you shit,” I muttered, grabbing the drinks the other bartender had prepared.
I turned to walk away but felt a hand on my ass. I froze in place, drinks in hand, as Tommy's hand moved up my skirt, sliding up the back of my thigh and cupping my ass cheek in his hand. He leaned in close to me, the smell of vodka on his breath as he whispered into my ear.
“If you want to keep your job, you sure as shit owe me, Casey.”
My entire body trembled, tears welled in my eyes, and I risked dropping the drinks. Instead of dropping them though, I pulled away from Tommy's grasp, turned around quickly and threw them in his face.
“Don't you dare lay a hand on me again, asshole!”
Tears stained my cheeks as I flailed, lashing out at Tommy. He held his hands out, doing his best to hold me back, but I scratched and beat at them. I kept struggling and fighting, even as he lifted me off the ground. He was carrying me into the back, but I continued fighting, my vision nearly going black with rage. Nothing else mattered in that moment except for getting the hell away from him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
MALCOLM
Screams erupted near the bar, and I looked up to see Casey in the arms of a large guy as he tried to drag her into the back. She was fighting hard and screaming bloody
murder. Greg stood up to get a better view, cackling with glee at all the commotion.
“Fuck, she went batshit crazy, didn't she?”
I didn't know what compelled me to move, but I jumped up and rushed out of the booth. The big guy shoved Casey backward. Hard. There was blood covering his shirt, and I couldn't tell who it belonged to.
“Don't you ever touch me again!” Casey screamed, finger pointed in the guy’s face.
“I can do whatever I damn well please,” the guy screamed back.
He lunged at Casey, his elbow clocking her in the side of the face. That was it. Seeing him hit her like that – I just lost it. I pushed my way through the crowd of onlookers, stepping between Casey and the guy before I even knew what I was doing. The guy flashed me a cocky, “what are you gonna do” kind of smile, so I reached back and punched the asshole square in the face. He stumbled backward, his hands over his face, blood seeping out from between his clenched fingers.
The big guy stared back at me with a look of utter shock on his face. He pulled his hands off his nose and looked at the blood coating them, the look of shock on his face deepening even further. It was like he couldn't believe I'd punched him. Judging by his size, I bet few people stood up to him like that and he wasn't used to it.
“She said to not touch her,” I growled.
“Do you know who I am, asshole?” he sneered, his face smeared with blood. “Do you know who my father is?”
“No, and I don't care,” I snapped back. “When a woman tells you to leave her alone – you listen.”
The man lunged toward me, murder in his eyes, but I was ready for him. As big as he was, I still had several inches – and a lot more muscle – than he did. When he swung his big meaty fist at me, I sidestepped it and grabbed hold of his arm, flipping it around and pinning it behind his back in one smooth motion.
