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A cab pulls up in front of me and out climbs Bella with a megawatt smile tugging at her lips. “Holy shit, you’re hot as hell.” She throws her arms around me. “If I was into women, you’d be in all kinds of trouble right now.”
I throw back my head and let out the first real laugh in what feels like forever. Everything has felt so huge and so life-altering that I haven’t really allowed myself any time to let loose.
But that changes tonight.
“I don’t know, babe.” I flip her red and black checkered skirt up slightly, uncovering more of the ripped stockings that disappear into platform boots. “I think I’d be the one chasing you.”
She laughs and hooks her arm into mine, dragging me straight up to the doorman who waves us both through. “Let’s get fucked up.”
Hours pass in a blur of shots and dancing, and little by little, some of the weight of the last week starts to melt away.
It’s fucking wild that this all started a little over a week ago. That a night out just like this one was the catalyst for my whole goddamn life-changing.
I quickly shove that thought down with another shot and watch as Bella shrugs off another loser’s advances. They’ve beenall over the both of us tonight. Frat boys who don’t know the meaning of the word no. Older men who are out looking to upgrade to a newer model. Bored businessmen after a day of work.
But it doesn’t feel right to be touching other men when there’s only one on my mind.
One stupid, pigheaded asshole who I wish I could stop thinking about, but not even tequila is helping to get him off my mind.
The club is packed, and everyone is feeling the music tonight. It’s a blend of rock and metal, with some added house music to keep everyone happy, and it’s honestly a vibe.
I reach for another shot, intent on heading back to the dance floor when I feel hands on my hips. It’s not the first time a guy has done this tonight, but there’s something different about the way he holds onto me, and it makes my skin crawl.
I throw back my shot and look over my shoulder, only to come face-to-face with one of the frat boy assholes we turned down hours ago. Does this motherfucker not take no for an answer?
“Can I help you?” I snap, shoving at his hands, but he’s not taking the hint.
“Come on, baby, dance with me.” The stench of liquor on his breath is overwhelming, and I look around for Bella as backup. Where the hell is she?
I pry myself out of his grip and round on him. “I told you no. Did your parents never teach you the meaning of the word?”
His beady eyes darken, and I fight not to take a step back. I’m not backing down to this asshat. He’s just another man who thinks because he has an extra appendage that swings between his legs that he’s a fucking gift to all women. Boy, oh boy, do I have news for him. “What’s your problem?” He steps forward into my space, and for the first time, a flare of panic grips me.
I’ve always had someone who had my back when I was out. Bryant and his brothers never would have let a guy get in my face like this, and it’s sobering knowing there’s no one coming to my rescue.
“My problem is men that think they can touch anyone they want. Well, newsflash, asshole, I’m not your property. I will never be your property, and I suggest you get the hell away from me, because I am in no mood to deal with someone with the same number of brain cells as a fucking almond.”
He looks surprised by my outburst, and honestly, so am I. I’ve never spoken to anyone like that in my life, but this guy needs to know women don’t owe him anything, and when we say no, we mean no.
What I don’t see coming is him shoving me so hard that I don’t have the chance to catch myself before I hit the ground, unceremoniously hitting my head against the hard concrete floor.
Pain radiates through my skull and suddenly the music I’ve been thriving off all night is too loud. The voices and bodies all blur together, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t force my eyes to stay open.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
DOC
It’s been a long fucking day.
The longest I can remember since the Saint James and Russo families called time-out on their decades-long turf war and joined forces.
Every motherfucker that works for the families seemed to have some kind of injury for me to patch up, and then on top of that, Tommy and then Emerson called to ask me to take a look at a girl the family had saved at the same time they brought Clara back from Florida.
The poor girl had been in the skin trade for so long that her body was covered in the evidence of it, and no matter how many years I do this shit, it never gets easier.
I’m tired.
Really fucking tired.
