Page 35 of Tick Tock, Boom!

But I held back for her because I knew deep down, if I let my temper off the leash now, if I let that violence loose the way my body was asking me to, one of us wasn’t walking out of here alive.

I leaned against the doorframe, watching her from the shadows as she cleaned up for the night. The clubhouse had two floors. The living quarters upstairs and the common area and bar below. Barrel’s room was perched up top with the perfect view of the entire open floor, a vantage point meant for keeping watch. I liked to keep myself tucked away in the dark, while he always knew who was comin’ and going.

Downstairs, the bar was quiet. The tables wiped down, chairs flipped, bottles lined up neat behind the counter like nothing had ever gone wrong inside these walls. She moved soft and quiet, humming under her breath as she worked, her hair tied up, her curves wrapped tight in those jeans that made it impossible for a man to think straight.

I should have moved. Should have told her to get to bed.

But I waited.

And that’s when the bastard showed up.

Rancid, drunk off his ass, stumbling in from whatever hole he’d crawled out of, leering like the piece of shit he was. His eyes locked on her, and I saw that smile he gave her. Wide, mean, and cynical. The kind of smile that promised bad things.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he slurred, swaggering up to the bar, leaning his weight into the counter. “Ain’t you just the prettiest little piece of ass we got in here?”

She stiffened, her back straightening, polite but distant. “Kitchen’s closed.”

“Aw, come on now, baby girl. Don’t be like that.” He reached out, brushed his fingers against her arm as she passed.

The second his hand touched her, I was on my feet. But I didn’t make a move. Not yet.

I watched.

I waited.

“Rancid,” she warned, stepping away, but the asshole followed, trailing after her like a damn predator as she carried the last of the kitchen rags toward the supply closet.

He didn’t listen.

Didn’t care.

“Come on, baby,” he purred, his voice turning slick. “I been real patient. Thought maybe you and me could get to know each other a little better.”

She turned down the hallway, her pace quickening, but I caught the shift in her body, the slight tension, the way her shoulders curled in tight. She was scared.

And when I heard her voice crack as she snapped, “Back off, Rancid,” I was done waiting.

I moved fast, stalking down the hallway, my boots heavy on the wood floor.

“I said back the fuck off,” she shouted again, and that was the last goddamn straw.

Rancid had her cornered, his hand reaching for her waist, that shit-eating grin still plastered on his face.

I grabbed him by the collar and ripped him back hard, slamming him into the wall so hard the drywall cracked.

“You dumb motherfucker,” I snarled, my fist already cocked back, slamming straight into his jaw. The crack of it echoed through the hallway, loud as a shotgun blast.

Rancid stumbled, but he swung back, his punch wild, grazing my cheek as I drove my knee into his ribs.

“Touch her again, you piece of shit, and I’ll bury you right here,” I growled, shoving him against the wall, my knuckles aching to keep going.

Chairs scraped, bottles clattered to the ground as he lunged at me, the two of us crashing into the bar, knocking over stools, knocking tables sideways as we threw punches, grunting, cursing, neither of us holding back.

“Stop!” Natalia’s voice rang out, sharp and scared, but I couldn’t stop. I wasn’t fucking done.

That’s when Saddle stormed in, his boots pounding heavily across the floor. “Enough!”

He grabbed Rancid by the back of his cut, yanking him away from me. “Natalia,” Saddle barked, his voice softer when he turned to her, “Go to your room. Lock the door.”

---