Page 40 of Blue

Mooky caught her. He cut an angry glare at Stella.

“Get outside,” he barked.

“What’s going on?” Blue demanded as he righted her.

“Someone call 9-1-1. This guy just assaulted me,” Dylan demanded.

The bar staff surrounded them. Bouncers crowded Mooky. Too much went on at once for her tequila-soaked brain to process.

“I’m getting my woman out of here.” The rage on his features left no room for negotiation.

His what now?

One of the barrel-chested bouncers nodded and stepped aside.

Mooky dipped his chin and grabbed Blue by the wrist.

As he dragged her out of the bar, Blue tripped over her own feet. Stella trailed behind them. The other patrons stared while Dylan shouted from the top of his lungs about surveillance cameras, holding his phone to his ear.

The cool air of the night slapped Blue in the face. She hadn’t realized how much the muggy day had cooled with the setting sun or how sweaty she had gotten while drinking.

“Did you just punch a cop?” she demanded as she dug her feet into the sidewalk, stopping him. The reality of the situation crashed against her. This was fucked.

“Do you know who that is?” he asked gesturing to the Cantina.

“What the fuck is going on?” Stella shouted.

They turned, as though they’d forgotten she was there.

“Shit.” Mooky scrubbed his features. “Prospect!”

One of the potential Odin’s Fury bikers came out of what felt like nowhere. “Yeah?”

“Take her home.” Mooky waved his hand toward the other tattoo artist.

“Excuse me?” Stella recoiled.

“It’s either this or a fucking Uber.” Mooky bounced on his feet.

Blue glanced at her friend, offering her a pleading expression.

Stella huffed. “Fine.” She stamped her foot like a petulant child as she followed the man with the prospect cut.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Blue and Mooky said in unison.

The pair gaped at each other wide-eyed.

“Me?” Again in unison.

She glared at him.

“That tool bag in there.” He stopped and looked over his shoulder. “Get on the bike.”

“What?” she balked.

Trying as hard as she could, Blue couldn’t keep up with everything. She wasn’t even sure how things got to that point. One minute she and Stella were laughing, singing, and drinking margaritas, and the next Mooky demanded she get on his bike. With nothing but chaos in between.

Now here he was, swooping in to save her from that creep. Her head and heart warred with each other. He was still married. To her knowledge, nothing had changed in that department since he’d last seen her, but he smelled so good. Leather, beard balm, man sweat—okay, that last one was sort of gross, but it was Mooky. The lovesick part of her wanted to throw caution to the wind and just go with him.

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