Blood splattered and he gasped. Squirming in my hold, he flung his arm out wide, the bitch thinking he was going to get a hit in on me. I caught his hand and bent it back. Squeezing. Twisting. Didn’t bat an eye that I felt his bones crunching beneath my hold. Pussy dropped to his knees, a plea fumbling from his filthy mouth. “Please.”
I landed three quick jabs low to his back, right over his kidney, so hard I was pretty sure he’d be pissing blood for the next week. Just a little present so he’d never forget me. I bent over and leaned in close to his ear, hearing the desperate need for destruction oozing from my own voice. “Next time you want to touch a girl? Remember this. Remember me. And if you ever step foot in this bar again? I will find you.” It spilled out in a slow threat. “And I promise you, you don’t want that.”
I pushed him back, let him fall to a heap in the middle of the floor.
Lyrik, Ash, and Zee surrounded us, keeping the piece of shit’s friends at bay. As if any one of them would have the balls to step in and intervene.
I knew my eyes were wide and crazed when I stood up straight and my attention jumped all over the faces staring back at me in shock, could feel the fever as it blistered across my skin. What had to be every occupant in the bar had made a living, thriving ring around us, spectators to the mayhem that had broken loose.
Didn’t give two shits about any of that.
I only had one concern.
Shea.
My attention flew to where she was curled up in a ball on her side on the dirty, sticky floor. Her hair was a mess around her, her delicate body rocking slowly as if she were in pain.
I rushed to her side and knelt down, pulled her into my arms, one arm banded around her upper back and the other sliding under her knees. Carefully, I lifted her from the floor, having no clue if this girl was injured or just in shock.
Didn’t mean to sigh out in relief when she wrapped those slender arms around my neck, but I did, and I pushed my nose in her hair, pressing kisses to the side of her head and murmuring, “I’ve got you, Shea. I’ve got you, baby.”
I’ve got you.
Her chest quaked, and she started to sob.
Charlie suddenly barreled through the crowd, flinging people out of his way, his eyes about as wild as mine had to be as he searched for Shea. Red was right behind him.
“Shea,” he wheezed, pausing for a fraction of a second as he took in the sight, before he rushed forward when he saw I held her in my arms. He went to take her, but I deflected, gathering her closer because I was pretty damned sure there was no chance I could let her go.
“I’ve got her.” It sounded like a warning. A promise.
It wasn’t until then I realized the band had stopped playing, and a bated silence became palpable in the frantic air—hushed breaths and curious stares—as oglers vied to get a better idea of what had gone down.
A frown cut across Charlie’s face, before he stepped back, turned to shout at the male bartender who was standing on top of the bar to see over the crowd. “Get the cops here to get this asshole out of my house.” He said it with a sneer as he angled his attention on the little prick who was still writhing on the ground spouting some bullshit about taking me to court and making me pay.
Get in line, motherfucker.
Charlie lifted his head in authority. “Everyone else, go home. This ain’t none of your business.”
He gestured with his chin. “Come on. This way.”
He shoved back through the mass, and I held her close as I followed him, her heart thundering against my chest and her tears seeping into my shirt. He led me through the swinging double doors and through the kitchen. Two cooks stopped what they were doing and looked up in a startled worry as we made our way back toward what looked to be the break room.
Red ran ahead and held open the door.