“Apologize to the lady,” Travis ordered, his voice low and ominous.
Rachel forced herself not to look at Travis, fearing the pity and disgust she’d see in his eyes. He had to remember the Fast Foster days. And a part of him had to wonder if any of the rumors were true.
Frankie guffawed. “What lady? All I see is the easy daughter of the town slut.” He reached out and pinched Rachel’s bottom, still laughing.
The tears spilled out of Rachel’s eyes at the same time Frankie went flying across the room. She blinked. Saw that Travis had pushed the man against the wall and was holding him by the collar. No matter how much she despised Frankie, she despised violence more. Rushing over to the two men, she touched Travis’s arm. “Travis, stop.”
He didn’t even glance at her. She saw the tight line of his mouth, the hardness of his jaw, and couldn’t decide if he looked attractive or menacing. She knew better than to throw herself in the middle of two brawling men, so she took a step back.
“I can have you thrown in jail for sexual assault, you hear that, Delacorte?” Travis spat out. He reached inside his coat and pulled out his badge. “See this, you slime? This badge means you don’t get to put your hands on any woman. Now you can either apologize to Rachel or spend the night behind bars. The choice is yours.”
Face red, Frankie’s fearful eyes darted toward Rachel. “I’m sorry,” he muttered.
Travis slammed him against the wall. “She didn’t hear you,” he snapped.
“I’m sorry!” Frankie cried.
Travis released his hold and pushed the man away. “Now get out of here. I don’t want to see your face.”
With hurried steps, Frankie nodded and dashed out of the bar, disappearing through the front doors.
Rachel stayed quiet as she watched Travis return his badge to his pocket. He raked his fingers through his dark hair before turning to look at her. Sheer, unadulterated fury glimmered in his whiskey-colored eyes, and she could almost see his pulse thudding against his corded neck, almost feel the tension bunching in his powerful biceps and clenched fists. He still looked ready to pounce, angry, alert, but worse than that, he appeared sympathetic. No, not sympathy. Pity. Of course, he only pitied her. That’s why he’d come to the defense of pathetic Rachel Foster.
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, banishing all the wet tears still splotched across her cheeks. “You shouldn’t have done that,” she murmured before spinning on her heel and walking back to their table.
Travis trailed after her. “All right, I may have overreacted. But seeing that creep touch you was just too much.”
She slung her purse over her shoulder and gave him a calm, even stare. “I meant you shouldn’t have tried to defend me.”
He wrinkled his forehead and that iron control of his faltered slightly. “What?”
She fought the tears struggling to erupt from her eyes. “He’s right. My mother is…she’s promiscuous, despicable. And I’m her daughter. You can’t defend her. You can’t defend me.”
“Rachel—”
“No, just stop looking at me with that damn sympathy in your eyes. I don’t need you to protect me. I don’t need you to pity me.” A tear trickled down her cheek. “This was stupid, coming here, dancing with you. You don’t want to be with someone like me, someone so…tainted.”
His features grew pained. “You’re not tainted, Rachel.”
She laughed harshly. “I won’t delude myself anymore. I’m never going to escape my mother’s reputation. Tonight proved it. And all I want right now is to leave this goddamn bar and pretend all this never happened. So please, Travis, take me home.”
Chapter Six
Travis slid into the driver’s seat of his SUV, turned the ignition, and pulled away from the curb. He hadn’t said a single word since he’d thrown a handful of bills on their table and ushered her out of the pub. His impatient strides told her he was angry with her, though for the life of her she didn’t know why. He was the one who’d made her feel as if she were a pitiful damsel whose honor needed to be defended.
“So, is this what you always do when you run into a jerk? Stick your head in the sand and hide?”
Rachel’s mouth fell open at the harshness of his words. “Excuse me?”
“I just pegged you as someone stronger than that.”
He sat behind the wheel, looking as though he was utterly disgusted, and Rachel couldn’t comprehend his gall. He was the one who took a stupid situation and made it entirely humiliating, turning every head in the bar so that all eyes were on her. He was the one who popped in and played Sir Galahad before she had the slightest chance to defend herself. Now he had colossal nerve to sit here and call her a coward?
Okay, fine. So she’d had a momentary spate of self-pity. If anyone deserved to feel sorry for herself, it was Rachel “Fast” Foster.