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Drew was a pig; that’s what had happened. And it wasn’t anything I hadn’t already known. But it seemed he also got handsy and talkative when he was drunk, which gave me one more reason to stay away from the guy.
I needed to find a way home, and my ride was still inside the bar. Dammit.
The smacking sound of the door flying open and hitting the wall next to me startled me upright, and the noisy sounds of music and raucous laughter filled the quiet night air before the doors banged shut again.
“Where’d you go, you fucking bitch?”
Shit. I really hadn’t considered Drew would follow me. I’d been so concerned with getting out of there I hadn’t thought to hide or anything.
I flattened myself against the side of the building, but his gaze swung to me immediately, and he stepped forward, the light over the entryway illuminating him from above. He held his injured hand close to his chest, and it appeared as if one of the fingers was bent at an odd angle.
He advanced on me, his face twisted in rage. “You broke my fucking finger, you bitch.”
I stared at him coldly. “Maybe you shouldn’t touch people who don’t want you touching them.” I tried to put on a brave front—I knew guys like Drew preyed on weakness, and I hoped maybe if he saw I wasn’t going to back down he’d leave me alone—but the quaver in my voice betrayed me.
I started edging carefully along the side of the building, not sure what I was hoping to accomplish other than putting more space between us.
He laughed derisively and prowled toward me. “Like I give a fuck what you want. I get it—you’re new here, maybe you don’t understand how it works, but—”
His words were cut off by the sound of the door opening again, and three dark shadows spilled out into the night. It took my eyes a moment to make out the forms of Garrett, Devan, and Micah standing back, forming an unbroken wall just beyond where the light over the door faded into darkness.
Despite the murderous expressions on all three faces, and the imposing image they cut, relief flooded through me. Drew, however, swung to face them, seemingly unimpressed.
“Ooh, three against one,” he taunted, and I wondered if it was the alcohol talking or if he honestly believed he could take all three of them. It was a laughable thought.
“You know,” he went on, still edging toward me even though he spoke to the three men behind me. “I’d be much more impressed by your display of intimidation if I thought for a second that you’d actually back it up.”
Before he’d even stopped speaking he lunged toward me, reaching out with his uninjured hand. But instead of clamping it around my wrist this time, he grabbed a fistful of my hair. I gasped as he twisted it, pulling at the roots until I let out a whimper of pain. He dragged my face closer to his. Twisting my body, I tried to get a knee up between his legs, but he shifted to the side as if he expected it and yanked my hair so hard it brought tears to my eyes.
It was only when a shadow fell over me that I saw Micah had stepped forward. His hands were clenched into fists, making the muscles in his forearms pop under all the ink.
“Let her go,” he said, and his voice was so cold I felt goosebumps rise on my arms.
Drew took a step back, pulling me with him, but I felt a tremble in the hand that held my hair. For the first time, I wondered if his bravado was as false as mine had been.
Either way, his sneer was real. “Or what?” he taunted. “You gonna punch me? I doubt it. If you haven’t done it in four years, I don’t think you’ll start now.”
I swore I heard Micah’s teeth grinding together. “You’ve already got one broken hand,” he said, the threat clear in his tone. “Are you willing to take that risk?” He took a step closer.
“Micah.” The voice came from behind us. It was Garrett, and though he’d spoken only a single word, there was a clear ring of authority to it.
Micah stopped moving, though his fists clenched harder.
Drew snickered gleefully, bending his head to whisper in my ear, though it was clear he intended his voice to carry. “You see what I mean, mystery girl? Garrett always calls his dogs back. They’ll stand there and look all threatening, but they won’t lift a finger to help you. They won’t even help themselves. Not even if I do this.”
The pain in my head vanished as Drew released me, then, twisting, drove his uninjured fist into Micah’s stomach.
His movements were slow, clearly affected by the alcohol, and though I heard the air rush out of Micah in a muted grunt he barely flinched. His fists clenched tighter, veins standing out on the backs of his hands, but Drew was right. He didn’t move, not to fight back, not even to defend himself.
I had taken the opportunity to scramble away, putting space between myself and Drew, which apparently was all the guys had been after because Garrett’s gruff voice rang out in command. “Let’s go.”
Without another glance, Micah turned away, but before I could panic that they were abandoning me out here with Drew once again, his hazel eyes found mine. “You too, Camilla.”
In the back of my mind it occurred to me that Nora would have no idea where I’d disappeared to, and I’d never bothered to put her number in my phone—not that I’d even brought it with me. But there was no way I was sticking around here, so I followed Garrett’s command without another thought, pushing away from the building to dart after them.
But Drew wasn’t done yet, and his feral growl suggested that he had no intention of losing against opponents who wouldn’t even fight back. I hadn’t realized he was armed until the glint of a blade appeared in his hand and he lashed out, lunging toward Micah.
I drew in a sharp breath, and the sound must have alerted Micah, because he spun, dodging the swinging blade with reflexes faster than I would have expected.
