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Before the Cutthroats could react, Snoopy, Brewer, and Rubble were on top of the group, five prospects in tow. Isa’s elbow connected with the biggest Cutthroat, and he yelped in pain. Acting fast, Doc snagged Isa’s arm and whirled her out of the vortex of punches and blood.
“Hurry up,” he yelled, tugging her away from the bar fight that’d drawn nearly every patron in for a swing. They weaved through the crowd, careful to steer clear of misdirected punches. Doc hit the back door with his shoulder and yanked Isa out before slamming it shut.
“Are you all right?” he asked, hands slowly checking her body.
Tears dripped down her cheeks, but she nodded. “I don’t know what happened. One of the nymphs asked me to take her tray to the men because she wasn’t feeling well. Before I knew it, they were all over me.”
Doc gently drew her against his chest. She buried her head in his shirt, and he wrapped his arms around her. Her shoulders shook, though from tears or fear, he wasn’t sure. Probably both.
Yells from the bar echoed, and he led her away from the door, lest a Cutthroat decide to make an escape. They made it to the alley behind the bar before she suddenly became deadweight.
“Isa, what’s wrong? We need to get to the clubhouse.”
She leaned against the brick wall and pushed her hair out of her face. In the moonlight, her skin looked ghostly. “Sorry, I need a minute.” She inhaled and exhaled noisily, hands shaking as she paced. “They would’ve done it, wouldn’t they?”
Doc shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. “Yes.”
“Why? Do they do that to your nymphs often? I can’t believe Macha would let—”
“We don’t, Isa.” He moved over to where she stood. “The Greenback Cutthroats are exactly that. They’re our closest rival and like to rile us up every so often. But they never get our nymphs. Not if we can help it.”
He searched her eyes and cursed at the fear he saw there. “I should’ve left you at the clubhouse. I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have taken the tray.” She laughed. “I’m no waitress and definitely not a nymph.”
Lifting his hands, Doc tucked her hair behind her ears. “You’re better, princess.”
“I am?”
“Oh yes. No woman compares to you.” He couldn’t help himself. She deserved to hear beautiful words every damned day. Lowering his eyes, he stared at her parted pink lips. He leaned in ever so slightly and pressed his lips against hers. She didn’t react, too dumbfounded to move. Catching her gaze, he offered her a smile. “And you deserve a man who’ll tell you that each day.”
Isa opened her mouth only to shut it again. No words formed, and he was fucking glad they couldn’t.
“Doc, you out here?”
Stepping away, he called back to Brewer, “Yeah, we’re here.”
Brewer jogged over to them. “Oh, good. I didn’t see you leave.” He glanced to Isa. “Everybody okay?”
Isa nodded, still mute, and he hid a smile.The men in Ireland truly are idiots if they didn’t adore this woman.
“We’re good. What about inside?” He nodded toward the bar. “The Cutthroats leave?”
“Yeah.” Brewer raked his fingers through his bright hair. “But they’ll be back. Said so before they hobbled to their bikes.”
“Reaper won’t be happy to hear that.” He grimaced but didn’t regret standing up for their Macha princess. She was his to protect.
11
Isa
“Have you ever shot a gun?”
Isa’s head turned at the quiet question. “Excuse me?”
Doc sauntered closer. “You heard correctly.” He rested his hands on the table. “Do you know how to shoot a gun?”
“No.”
