When I come back out, Madison is already at the door of the bar with one of the guys. She’s leaning into him, laughing into his ear. She’s clearly very drunk. I shake my head and fight the urge to say something.
It’s one thing when a bar whore goes home with random men. Bar whores know exactly what they’re doing. They’re giving something for getting something, be it drugs or drinks or even just attention. It’s a conscious decision. But Madison isn’t a bar whore and that jackass is taking advantage of her. But it’s not my place to interfere.
Until I see Mila grab her purse and stumble toward the door. The guy she’s with tags along at her heels and she turns to grab onto him, unsteady on her feet. He laughs, his hand brushing her perfect ass as he steadies her.
My blood boils. And since I’m already on my way out the door, I can’t do anything other than trail behind them, something that causes my blood to burn even hotter. Fuck this.
They stumble out and I even hold the door open as Mila’s jacket gets caught on the handle. Her eyes meet mine, and hers are blurry and unfocused. She’s in no condition to be choosing a bedmate. My gut clenches, but I keep my mouth shut.
She made her choice.
She made her choice.
She made her choice.
I repeat it in my head, as if it will make it an easier pill to swallow. It doesn’t. It still pisses me off. I step outside and turn to walk to my car.
I hear their voices behind me, fading into the distance. Mila is laughing, the guy is talking to her, low and deep. As I turn to open my car door, I glance in their direction. They are standing next to what must be the guy’s car because he’s opened the passenger side door, but Mila is trying to shake his hand instead.
What the hell?
I pause and watch. Mila is slurring her words by now, but she is definitely trying to shake this guy’s hand. And say goodnight.
A feeling of satisfaction wells up in me before I can stop it.
Until the guy smiles like a piranha and pushes Mila against the car, where he shoves against her and sticks his tongue down her throat. His hands are all over and she is pushing at him, struggling.
“No,” she cries out.
I see an explosion of red and I close the gap between us in three strides.
I yank the guy off of her and slam him onto the ground. Before I can think or breathe, I stomp on his hand as he grasps for my leg. His bones crunch and he howls in pain, clutching his broken hand to his chest.
Mila gasps, her eyes wide, as she huddles against the car. As my attention is on her, the guy kicks at my leg, connecting with my knee.
Fuck. But I don’t feel it with all the adrenaline pumping through me.
He kicks again, but this time, I see it coming and move. He only connects with air.
“Fuck you, man,” he slurs. “Fucking prick. This isn’t your business. You broke my fucking hand, man.”
He is scrambling to get up now and I put my boot on his chest.
“Don’t,” I tell him, as he tries to grab at me. “You’re lucky that’s all I broke. The next time a woman tells you no, stop whatever the fuck it is that you’re doing. Now go home and sleep it off. And don’t come near Mila again. If you do, I will break your dick off and feed it to you.”
The drunk guy glares up at me. “What the fuck is your problem? You don’t know what she wants.”
I turn to Mila, my foot still firmly planted in the guy’s chest.
“Mila, do you want to see this guy again?”
She shakes her head. “No.”
“There you have it,” I tell him calmly, removing my foot. “Get the fuck out of here.”
“Fuck you, man,” he mutters as he struggles to his feet. “I don’t need this. Fuck that slut, too.”
That’s when I punch him.
Hard. In the side of head. He goes down like a bag of rocks. Mila gasps and I shake my head, bending to make sure he’s still breathing.
He is, so I turn to Mila.
“Come on. Let’s get you home.”
“Why did you do that?” she whispers, her eyes frozen on the unconscious asshole on the pavement. “Jared didn’t mean to hurt me. He was just drunk. I’ve known him for a long time.”
I stare at her as I walk to her side.
“You have no idea what he meant to do. Trust me. It wasn’t good.”
I take her arm and lead her to my car, opening the door and tucking her into the passenger seat before I strap her in.
As I’m getting into the driver’s seat, Mila is rummaging through her purse. She looks up at me.
“Uh-oh,” she says quietly. “I can’t find my keys. My apartment is locked. Can you take me to Maddy’s?”
Her words are seriously slurred by this point. It sounded more like she said I cent fine my keel. Miz part is lock. Cent you take me to Man’s? I shake my head.
“You’re seriously fucked up,” I tell her. “You’re probably going to get sick soon. And I don’t think your sister is going home. I’ll take you to my house.”
Her eyes widen and she shakes her head. “Pax, no. It’s not a good idea. I don’t trust myself around you.” Her words are completely garbled of course, but I can make them out.
I startle and stare at her.