Page 28 of Taming Tesla

He snatches me by my arm and jerks me back into my seat, spinning me around to look at him. “You don’t have to be such a fucking bitch about it,” he sneers in my face.

“Unfortunately, I do have to be a bitch about it,” I say through clenched teeth. “That’s the only way assholes like you get the picture.”

“What’s the big deal, sugar—we all know what you are. The whole world knows by now.” He snarls at me, a split second before a baseball bat cracks against the hard surface of the bar—the ear-splitting sound of it ringing off the walls.

I’d been so focused on keeping Tess at bay, I forgot about Declan.

“Get your hands off her,” he barks, one hand gripped around the bat while the other one grapples with Tess, keeping her from launching herself across the bar.

“Who the fuck are you,” the guy says, shifting his sneer toward Declan. “Her pimp?”

“I’m her family,” Declan says, lifting the bat to push the top of it against the guy’s chest. “Nobody fucks with my family.”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with you,” the guy says, his grip going slack. “We’re just having some fun.”

I jerk myself out of his grip and stagger back when someone wedges a shoulder between us. “You want some fun, you piece of shit?” Patrick says over the high-pitched yowl, erupting from the floor. He reaches across the bar for the bat and Declan gives it to him without protest. “I’m the guy to give it to you.”

“What did you do?” I say, grabbing onto Patrick’s arm, trying to make him look at me but he’s ignoring me. He has his empty hand clenched, but as far as I could tell, he hadn’t taken a swing. I finally work my way around Patrick to find the guy sprawled out on the floor, howling—blood pouring from his nose like someone turned on a spigot. I aim a questioning look at Conner, looking for answers.

“Cracked him in the nose,” Conner says, tapping his index finger against the hard bone of his forehead. “That’s how we Gilroys shake hands.” Conner stands on the other side of him, assessing the tight knot of white-collars at the end of the bar. “At least one of you is thinking about getting in on this,” he says, jerking his chin at the guy bleeding on the floor. “That guy, whoever he is, is trying to get the rest of you killed. Don’t be that guy.”

Beside me, I can feel Patrick vibrating with rage, his hands still clenched into fists. His mouth a thin, hard line slashed across his face. I’m sure he’s seconds away from taking this guy’s head off with the bat. Instead, he passes it to Conner. “Take care of this for me.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Conner says. Levering the bat against his shoulder, he reaches down to hook his grip around the collar of the guy’s shirt, dragging him across the bar.

He gets as far as the pool table before Patrick grabs my hand and drag me upstairs.

Patrick leads me to the couch, sitting me down gently like I’m made of glass. I’m worked up, adrenaline pumping through my system, heart cannonballing against my rib-cage, pumping so fast and hard, it hurts. As soon as I’m seated, he sits on the coffee table across from me, so close our knees are touching.

Neither of us talk. We just sit there, watching each other. Finally, I find my voice. “Someone should check on Conner.”

“Con’s fine.” Patrick laughs, swiping a rough hand over his face. “Are you?”

“Yes,” I lie.

He knows I’m lying but doesn’t press the issue. “Look, about what you said this morning, about the video,” he says, gaze focused on my chin. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have watched it. But I want you to know that I didn’t go looking for it. I would never do something like that to you.” His mouth quirks a little, and he shakes his head. “I’ve done a lot of things over the last few days that would seem to argue the contrary but I... care about you. The last thing I would ever do is hurt you on purpose.”

Not I love you. I care about you. Because he said it once and that’s what I did.

I hurt him on purpose.

“And you don’t have to move out,” he tells me, pulling me back into the conversation.

“I—” I open my mouth, but he talks over me.

“I have a few vacant rental properties across town,” he says, finally dragging his gaze up to meet mine. “I’m going to move into one of them. You can have this place. As long as you want it.”

“What?” I shake my head. “No, I can’t do that.”

“It makes sense—the apartment building I’m looking at needs some renovation. I can live there while I’m working on it.”

“You love it here,” I say, my throat tight.

“I do, but it’s too far from the office for me.” He says it like it’s final. Already been decided. “Living here has been inconvenient for a while now.” Now he’s the one who’s lying. “Besides, this place is only a ten-minute drive to the gallery.” He smiles at me. “With the way you like to drag your feet in the morning, you need to be as close to work as possible.”

“Miranda fired me.”

“What?” My words wipe the smile off his face. “She fired you? She can’t—”

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