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She was sitting in the lap of a guy they called Darius Dark.
He had one hand inching up her thigh and the other beneath her shirt.
A red flash of fury exploded in Jennings’s mind. At that moment, Wren looked up. Fear written across her face.
In several strides, Jennings reached them. He ripped her out of Darius Dark’s lap and shoved her behind him.
Darius Dark’s eyes narrowed to slits and his knuckles cracked as he clenched his hands into fists.
Jennings widened his stance, placing himself between Wren and the man who’d been groping her. “Hands off my property,” he gritted out in a voice loud enough to boom through the room.
Chatter halted. The club rang with silence.
Darius stood, elongating himself to stand an inch or two above Jennings. No matter. He was more than confident in his ability to fight.
“The woman was enjoying herself,” Darius sneered.
“Honey, were you enjoying yourself?” He didn’t look at Wren when he asked the question.
“No! He forced me into his lap even though I belong to you, Jay.”
He cocked a brow at Darius Dark. “See? You must be deaf. Don’t let it happen again.”
“Go ahead and make me!”
He cocked his arm back. Wren’s fingers wrapped around Jenning’s biceps.
All he could see was that terror on her face mingled with disgust and this bastard’s filthy hand working under her shirt, kneading her breast like it was a chunk of bread dough.
“My. Property,” he bit off.
“Stop! Please.” Wren’s soft whimper broke the chokehold of fury coursing through him.
He dropped his arm, almost yanking her over with his power. Before she could fall, he swept her against his side. When he felt how much she was shaking, he damn near lost his shit.
He would end that guy.
What was one more death in the club?
Cole positioned himself between Jennings and the man he wanted to dismember. Slowly. Hell, he’d even do it in front of witnesses.
“Let it go, Jay. You know Darius Dark is a pussy hound. He won’t touch your woman again.”
Jennings held Darius Dark’s gaze for a long heartbeat laced with menace. “Makegoddamnsure you don’t.”
Cole nudged the man. “Go on home for the night, Dark. Come back tomorrow.”
He grunted, his lip curling when he faced Jennings one last time before crossing the room to the exit.
Cole gripped Jennings’s shoulder hard, fingers biting into his muscle. “You good now?”
“Fine,” he said tonelessly.
“Go have a drink. Let your lady return to her girl-talk with the other women.”
Jennings met Wren’s gaze. In those stormy blue depths he saw that she didn’t really want to speak to them. Maybe she didn’t even want to be away from Jennings after what happened. But in the end, she patted his chest and pulled away from his side.
He watched the smooth glide of her hips as she returned to the table of women. Not unsurprisingly after that confrontation, they accepted her into their fold as if she’d always been their friend rather than a newcomer who stole one of the available men in the club.
