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I’m going to murder everyone!
If it were the two of us in a room, this would excite me. Hell, my cock is hard just thinking about this being the two of us in a room, but it’s not. It’s not and all these asshole pieces of shit need to calm the fuck down or I’m going to lose it.
My fists clench and my heart hammers as she turns back, her arm over her bare chest, a sweet smile on her face as though none of this is bothering her.
Maybe she is a performer. Maybe I’m out of line. Maybe I shouldn’t be here messing with her life. Maybe this is where I realize I’m a sick fuck and I’m no different from any of the jerks in here hooting and hollering.
I’ve almost convinced myself of that truth until her arm comes down and a piece of shit stands up from the side of the stage and starts howling. He’s a younger guy in his early thirties. He wears dress slacks and a button-down shirt. He doesn’t belong in this town. He’s traveled in from somewhere else, and his phone is up as though he’s taking photos. You aren’t supposed to take photos here.
The smile drops off her face and the short asshole comes closer to the stage.
That was his last mistake!
I should know how I get from point A to point B, but the walk toward him is a blur, and the next thing I hear is Peyton screaming for me to let him go while security threatens me with tasers.
Peyton stands between them and their target, which only gives me reason to believe she wants me to hurt this guy. I know that logic is… questionable, at best.
My hand is on his throat and I’m not trying to squeeze, but the gurgling coming from his mouth and the shade of purple on his lips says I am.
“Stop!” Peyton wraps her small frame around me, but I don’t let go of the man. I back him out of the room and slam him up against the back wall as a lesson to every asshole in this place.
Security busies themselves with the mob of dudes trying to help this poor jerk off, but it’s a lost cause. There aren’t enough bouncers to control the crowdandkeep me from hurting this man.
Take your pick, boys. Stop a riot or save one piece of shit.
As they move to quell the riot, it’s clear they’re here to protect the building. Yet another reason Peyton shouldn’t be stripping here. They don’t have their security well trained. The performers’ safety should be the focus.
“Apologize!” I snarl at the man as I hold him against the interior brick wall in the back of the club.
He coughs. “To this fucking whore? Get fucked.” He side eyes Peyton. “I’m going to show the kids this shit and then my lawyer. You’re such a fucking mess.”
I’m embarrassed that I’ve given him enough breath to speak, so I squeeze harder. Had I known this was her ex, I’d have started out strong. I reel back and punch the man in the mouth, then crack his phone in two and throw the pieces across the place. “Please get back up.” Through gritted teeth I growl, “I really don’t want this to be over yet.”
Peyton stares at me, wide eyed and innocent as though she isn’t sure what to do or how to react. Maybe I shouldn’t have shown her this side of me. Now she’ll be afraid to have me around.
Atlas, you stupid fuck!
“Get out. Both of you.” She sucks in air, then screams, “Now!”
My true intention is to make her happy. That’s all I wanted from the start, but here I am standing over her ex in the hallway of a strip club in the name of women’s rights.
I see the error in my ways.
That said, when the man in the back hollers toward her and refers to her as‘Luscious’again, my blood goes back to boiling. I punch the ex one more time for good measure, lift Peyton onto my shoulders, and carry her out to my truck as she kicks and screams.
The DJ calls for more security, but we’re in my truck before anyone arrives, and we’re clean out of the parking lot before any cops appear.
“What the hell are you doing? You’re insane!” She tries to unlock the door, but I’ve switched on the child lock which, as it turns out, comes in handy for a kidnapping.
“I’m taking you home.”
“Right, well, I was working.”
“You should be thanking me. That asshole was all over you.”
She rolls her eyes and looks away before crossing her arms over her bare chest.
I reach for a flannel in the back seat and toss it over her as I keep my eyes on the road. “I get you want the money, and I’m sorry I embarrassed you, but fuck! If I weren’t here tonight—”
