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While normally that’d make me respect someone, I didn’t like it in this instance. Not one bit.
So distracted by wanting to get away from Scout before he insisted we had that kind of talk, I hadn’t paid attention to where I was going. I turned down one hallway and then another, eventually finding myself in front of the concession area.
“The Maroney triplets’ cousin.” A body stepped in front of me.
I almost collided with them, and they reached up, hands closing around my arms to steady me as I braked suddenly.
I looked up. Kunz was staring at me, a hard, cocky glint in his eyes. He didn’t let go of me as his eyes trailed past me, and a mocking smirk twisted the corner of his mouth when someone else stepped up to his side.
Macon Rice was with him. He was sneering at me. “I remember you.”
I frowned, almost paralyzed because that ugliness in him was bringing up old memories. He wasn’t like Max, but he was on the same path. He would become another Max, without the same privilege that protected him, and because of that, Macon would only live a life in and out of prison.
Pity washed over me, and seeing it, some of his sneer disappeared, then it was back and reinforced. “Word on the street is that you’re fucking Raiden.”
Kunz’s fingers tightened on me, just slightly. “Is that so?”
The paralysis lifted. I began to try to rip myself out of Kunz’s hold, which I thought was going to be a waste of energy before I was suddenly free. It took me a second to realize it was Scout’s doing, and he currently had Kunz pushed all the way back to the concession counter. People scattered, some squawking.
Some guys were shouting.
Some girls screamed.
Funny. I had a thought in the back of my mind that these people were here for violence, but when it happened uncontained, their view suddenly changed. It got a lot more scary to them.
“You’re not going to put hands on her. You hear me?” Scout had a hand to Kunz’s throat, holding him pinned in place. He wasn’t doing anything else, he wasn’t touching him anywhere else, just that one hand against his throat. The very real promise he could and would hurt Kunz was keeping him in place.
Kunz’s eyes hardened, first focusing on Scout before looking at me.
Scout growled, moving to block him. “You don’t look at her.”
Security guards were running in. They got Scout off of him, and I was about to move forward when a slimy hand touched my arm, and I was being pulled backward.
No!
“Hey.” I tried to twist around, but Macon’s grip on me was constricting. He was already leaving bruises. “Stop!”
He kept dragging me backward, through the crowd that had gathered to watch Scout and Kunz, and through a door.
We were in a locker room, and suddenly, another guy was there. This time, he was big, an older adult. Maybe in his forties. He ripped Macon’s grip off me and slammed him back against the door. “What the fuck were you going to do to her?”
Before Macon could answer, the guy looked at me. “Get the fuck out of here.”
I swallowed. He looked vaguely familiar. Dark hair. His eyes . . .
Why’d he look so familiar?
He snarled, “Now!”
I took off, glancing back once and seeing he was gone with Macon.
I ran around the corner and right into a hard chest, but relief hit me because I knew this chest. Arms wrapped around me on reflex. Scout tensed and then swept me up and against him. “You okay? Where’d you go?”
“I—” I looked back, but the guy was coming back out of the locker room. He had a hold of Macon, and as Scout cursed, his entire body becoming like cement, two security guards were approaching the guy and Macon.
“Fuck—” Scout growled. “Winslet.”
“Yo.” One of the guys that Scout had introduced me to earlier materialized by his side. “Keep watch of Ramsay for me.”
“Got it.” He was a big dude, and he gave me a wink. “Which fight did you enjoy the most?”
My eyebrows pinched together as I watched Scout head over to talk to the guy. Macon was being led out by the two guards, and as Scout tried to go after him, the guy blocked him. They exchanged words, and judging by how rigid both were as well as their clenched jaws and fists, I was guessing it wasn’t a good exchange of words.
The whole thing only lasted a few seconds before Scout turned and stalked my way.
“Your boy’s not happy.” Winslet was eating a carrot, not sounding bothered. He gave me another wink. “Word of advice? Start a fight in the beginning of the ride back. He’ll settle down by the time you arrive in Pine River. Happy trails.”
