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“Bring me a beer,” he ordered Peaches’ retreating back. Then he cut his eyes to me, and I didn’t like the look in them. “Sorry about your girl.”
I frowned, my hand pausing halfway to my mouth. I didn’t like the man, especially not after he had tried to put the moves on Harlow the day of the cookout. He was a lowlife, and I didn’t know why Trip kept him on. “Don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” I finally grumbled, taking a drink.
“Well then—” The bastard seemed too smug, and I sensed trouble. “—let me enlighten you.” He whipped out his phone, pulled something up on it, and handed it over to me.
I narrowed my eyes on the screen.
What. The. Fuck.
Peaches set a beer down in front of him and walked off before he could acknowledge it. “Nice ass,” he called after her.
I couldn’t take my eyes off the picture of Harlow in the arms of another man.
I sensed Savage peering over my shoulder. “Oh, shit.”
Exactly.
“Guess she doesn’t know who she belongs to.” Monk picked up his bottle, which was a good thing, because I was about to pick it up and smash it over his fucking head.
There had to be a logical explanation to why my woman was hugging another man. The affectionate familiarity between Harlow and the man in the picture felt like a knife thrust in my gut. Her smiling face, so beautiful and angelic, revealed the emotions of someone extremely happy and comfortable with the person she was with. They were close, intimate, causing a surge of sharp jealousy like I’d never known to flood my senses and take up residence in my heart, turning into anger just as quickly as I thought about another man touchingmywoman. I wanted to fucking destroy something. Like Monk’s grinning face.
Who the fuck was he? The sensible thing would be for me to question Harlow first, not jump to conclusions, but the sense of betrayal I was feeling at the moment was overwhelming. Flashbacks of all the shit some of my brothers had been put through with women reminded me that they were sneaky, devious creatures when they wanted something. Well, some of them were anyway.
“Don’t do anything you’ll regret, Brother.”
Was Savage worried about Monk, or Harlow, or both?
I slowly turned my head his way, acknowledging the concern in his eyes.
“Find out what’s going on first. This could be totally innocent.” He indicated the phone I was still clutching. “Harlow doesn’t strike me as the kind of woman who plays around.”
And yet she was in the arms of another man.But he was right.
Next to me I heard a snicker. I slammed Monk’s phone down onto the bar and slid it over to him. “What the fuck you doing here anyway?” I snarled, not giving him the satisfaction of acknowledging how the picture on his phone was affecting me. “This isn’t your clubhouse, and last I heard you aren’t an officer of Vegas Watchdogs.”
Monk shrugged, and his lips curled up in a knowing smirk. “Just thought you’d be interested in seeing proof. Your brothers didn’t believe me when I told you she came on to me the other day.”
I narrowed my eyes on him. “And I still don’t believe it, asshole.” I tried to convince myself that that was the truth.
He laughed, shrugged his shoulders again, and chugged down the rest of his drink before pivoting on his stool and sliding to his feet. “I’d keep an eye on that bitch,” was his parting shot.
I saw red, and because I needed to release some of the anger festering inside me, I jumped off my stool, pulled him back around with a firm hand on his shoulder, and punched him in the face. My fist was big enough to do damage to his nose and mouth, and blood erupted from both as I let him go, watched him slam against the bar with anoomph, and then hit the floor.
“Damn, Doc.” Savage moved beside me, and we stood staring down at Monk. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”
I ignored him, directing my next comment to a dazed and moaning Monk. “Now get the fuck out, and don’t come back without an invite.”
