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“Shit,” Bria hisses. “He heard me, didn’t he?”
“The whole bar heard you, B,” Chris calls out from his seat at our table.
After I walk her back to the table and entrust her to her brother and the bookworm, I head toward the front of the bar toward the door and away from the noise. Ordering the cab isn’t complicated at all. I just open the app and enter all our information, and get an alert that it will be another ten minutes. Honestly, though, that isn’t a terrible amount of time to wait.
“What’re you doing out here?”
I look up to see none other than Karen Zucker standing in front of me with a snarl on her face, wearing a black dress that would have fit a kindergartner better than it fits her. Normally, I don’t give two shits what someone looks like or wears. But Karen? She is an asshole and always has been. So, I don’t feel even the slightest bit of regret for judging her. Not after everything she’s put me through.
When I don’t bother to answer her question, Karen tries another tactic. “I see you’re all alone, like always. Poor little Avery James, no one ever wanted you.”
She smiles, showing that she has a splash of red on her teeth. Putting one hand on her hip, she stares at me disapprovingly, but I’m not about to rise to the bait. I’ve already let one asshole mess with me recently.
“You’re not worth it,” I tell her honestly. “Go inside, get drunk, and find some sleazeball to take you home, Karen. But stay away from my brother.”
Rage, red-hot and furious, practically singes the air around her at my statement, and I can’t help but laugh.
“That’s it. I should have beat your ass in school, but your stupid brother said you weren’t to be touched. But he’s not here to protect you anymore, is he?” Karen draws her arm back, almost dramatically, to slap me, and I roll my eyes.
For a second, I honestly think she won’t do it. I mean, who draws their hand back that far to slap someone? Disbelief and the alcohol are the only reasons I can think of that I don’t duck out of the way. But when her hand connects, the sharp sting of pain wakes me right up. She isn’t strong, at least not as strong as Bailey. My sister packs a mean punch. Next to her, Karen’s slap doesn’t even scratch the surface of pain.
One well-placed punch is all it takes to retaliate. Except that as soon as Karen goes down, the man she’s there to meet appears.
“Karen, where’d you go?” Dennis Wheeler, one of the men in my brother’s club, speaks sullenly, looking around for the now-unconscious woman. “Oh,” he says while staring openly at the mess before him. “Looks like you’re in a bit of a pickle.” He smiles at me, and for a moment I think everything will be okay.
Karen lies crumpled on the ground, her eye already starting to swell with the impact of my hit. She didn’t hit her head when she went down, and I can see her breathing, so it’s not like I killed her or anything.
Wheeler always watches out for me, just like the rest of the guys in my brother’s club. They take turns making sure no one fucks with me. At least, when he is sober and pays attention to what happens around him. So, with him there, I really think I will be alright.
Clearly, the guy has been drinking though. The way his ice-blue eyes can’t quite stay in focus gives him away. Wheeler can’t be more than five or six years older than me, but he carries some heavy baggage that he refuses to talk about. The tattoos on his arm snake down from his t-shirt and wind around his wrist, like a drawing that Rett had done. Even though I hate it when people get drunk, I can’t blame the man. Deacon told me once that Wheeler has gone through Hell and left a part of his soul behind.
Still, I feel safe with him. That is until he puts his arm around me.
Bile rises in my throat. His skin touching mine drags glass and sand down my skin. The shudder that tears through my body leaves me shaking viciously, struggling to move away. Even as he tightens his hold, obviously thinking that I’m about to keel over. He just doesn’t understand.
“I don’t like to be touched, Wheeler.” The words make me sick to even say, and I try again to get out of his embrace. “Come on, man. I want to get out of here.” But he is too drunk to really understand what I say.
A second later, Wheeler still hasn’t moved his arm, and I can’t control the visceral reaction that comes next. I try to pry his hand off and remove it myself, but he is too heavy and too drunk. So, I do the only thing I can. I shift on one foot and hit him in the gut with my knee. Except I miss and get him right in the family jewels.
Unfortunately, the door opens as I’m doing it, and a familiar face stands there with a scowl as he watches Wheeler drop to the ground, cupping himself and wheezing.
“I really don’t want to have to arrest you, Avery. Why do you keep doing this to me?”
I stare at Carter Matthews, with his red-rimmed eyes, and the dress uniform he should have taken off right after the funeral but didn’t. There is only one thing I can say. Even when I see the handcuffs we discussed earlier now hanging from his belt and the dark expression on his face as he follows my line of sight.
“She assaulted me,” Karen slurs from the ground. “I want her arrested.”
Of course she has to pick that moment to wake up. I shoot a glance down and try to decide if I can kick her before Carter gets in the way, and decide I won’t get away with it.
When Carter doesn’t take his eyes off mine, Karen starts to sputter indignantly. “Pay attention tome. I’m the one she assaulted.” The sound of her stomping her foot doesn’t even have the power to break the staring match between us.
I look up at Carter and my heart starts to race, pounding against my chest so hard I think I’ll have a panic attack. Fear of being arrested makes up part of it, but the way his eyes flash with desire while his eyes are locked on mine fucks with me in a way I can’t turn away from. I’m not stupid, but Carter makes me want to make bad decisions—with him and those handcuffs.
There won’t be any chance in hell of forgetting the fire I see burning in his eyes. That doesn’t mean I won’t try, though. I’ve already been burned once, and I don’t have the strength to go through it again.
So, when Carter grabs his cuffs and pulls out his cell phone to call in the fact that he is putting me under arrest, I do the only thing I can. I lie.
“The vodka made me do it?”
