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“Ain’t hurtin’ shit. Last time I’m tellin’ you to mind your fuckin’ business. Do your fuckin’ job or bounce. Don’t give a shit what you decide to do, just do it.”
The hell if she was backing down. That was what Taint wanted. However, that wasn’t what he would get. “I want assurances that you’re not doing anything illegal that’ll get this club shut down. If that happens, all the dancers will be out of work. They have families to take care of. Tuition bills to pay. They rely on that money and you’re risking their livelihood.”
Taint bared his teeth and gritted out, “Last. Fuckin’. Time—”
Tires chirping nearby caught their attention and Mel heard the roar of an engine when a vehicle shot into the back lot.
A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed her suspicion that it was Finn.
Great. His arrival could be either good timing or bad depending on what happened next. “That’s my boyfriend pulling in now. He’s not going to like that T-Bone slammed me around like that.”
“Boyfriend.” Taint huffed sharply and spit on the ground barely missing her stilettos. “He ain’t your boyfriend. We all know how you slits are. You’re just workin’ him over for some scratch. Seen it before. You pretend to like him and he showers you with money and gifts. Typical stripper whore.”
Mel didn’t have to hear Finn’s approach, she could feel his energy. It was snapping and popping, making the air crackle around them.
“What the fuck happened?” He stepped between Saint and her, his eyes inspecting her from the top of her head to the tip of her high heels. He lightly touched her throat, his eyes as sharp as shattered glass. “Did he fucking choke you?” Finn spun on Saint. “You touch her?”
Taint’s spine snapped straight and he pulled back his leather-clad shoulders. “You don’t fuckin’ belong here.”
Finn stepped toe to toe with the biker, getting right in his face. “You fucking touch her?”
“Danny,” she breathed, worried fists would start flying.
“Answer me,” Finn demanded.
“Fuck off.” Taint sucked loudly on his teeth. “Don’t answer to you.”
“Anyone who touches my woman without my permission answers to me. And I expect a fucking answer. Did you hurt her or,” his head twisted toward T-Bone, “was it you?”
T-Bone’s chin tipped up and cockiness oozed from him when he said, “She was stickin’ her fuckin’ nose where it don’t belong. Need to keep your pussy on a short leash.”
Oh no. Finn was already on the warpath and now…?
Mel lost her breath and her heart took a tumble when Finn rushed the prospect. Before T-Bone could take a defensive stance, her fake boyfriend swung.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Mel’s scream of “Danny, no!” managed to permeate his brain as he cold-cocked a prospect he hadn’t seen before. The biker, whose patch said his road name was T-Bone, was maybe in his early twenties, and, apparently, needed some life lessons on disrespecting women.
Finn would gladly teach him one or two. But not with his words.
He tuned out Mel’s panic and hyper-focused on the baby biker in front of him, while making sure he wouldn’t be ambushed by Saint from behind.
Two bikers against one undercover officer would suck. Without a doubt, he would end up on the losing end of that fight. For that reason, he needed to make this a short lesson so he could protect himself from the prospect’s leader.
While T-Bone was still trying to shake off the first hit, Finn put all his weight behind the right upper-cut he delivered next. With satisfaction, Finn watched the young biker crumple like a dropped accordion before face-planting on the parking lot pavement. Out fucking cold.
With that fucker out of the way, he spun toward Saint. Despite the sharp pain in his knuckles, he kept his fists up, his body loose and his boots spread just in case the older biker wanted a taste of what Finn was dishing out.
If he did, Finn would serve it with pleasure.
Once again seeing the darkening marks on Mel’s neck fanned the flames of fury burning inside him. But what convinced him to beat back the burn was the handgun Saint held.
That was a stark reality check and a good reminder of who the task force was dealing with. Plus, only a fool brought fists to a gunfight and Finn’s temper wasn’t at the point he’d be stupid enough to pull his own weapon.
He liked his job.
He liked his life.
And he really liked the woman who stood nearby watching with a hand clamped over her mouth and her eyes wide with worry.
No, getting shot would not only fuck up Finn in more ways than one but would also leave a mark on Mel, too.
He sucked in air in an attempt to control his impulses.
“Take one more fuckin’ step toward me and that’ll be your last one,” Saint warned, pointing the Beretta at Finn’s chest.
