Page 16 of Dash

I understand his concern. I don’t have anyone to be worried about, but if I was building the life he is… yeah, I’d be on edge, too.

For some reason, Dayna’s face suddenly dances through my mind.

It’s been five, almost six weeks since the party and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her.

She was unexpected.

The way she talked to me, the way she looked at me… I felt excitement pitch through my chest in a way I haven’t experienced since…

Since Kendall.

Nope. I shove her back into the vault.

“We’ll protect them.” I give him that look, the one I hope he knows means no matter what happens, even if I’m the last loyal brother standing, his girls will be safe.

“This shit needs to be done sooner rather than fucking later,” he mutters. “You heading home?”

It’s just after eleven, but my mind is too frantic to sleep. “Maybe,” I say softly.

For the first time, I feel a hint of jealousy that he has a girl waiting at home for him who looks at him as if he hangs the fucking moon.

Fuck, don’t go there.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” I clap a hand on his shoulder and walk over to my bike.

The ride into the city centre is not enough time to clear my head, and by the time I park up outside a bar owned by the club, I’m twitchy.

I want to drown in something strong that’ll make me forget my name after three sips.

I’m attaching my helmet to the back of the bike when I hear it.

A sound I will never forget.

Her laugh. It’s the same as it was at the engagement party. Too light. Too easy. Too fucking fake.

I scan the street, searching until my eyes lock on her.

Dayna fucking Harrington.

She looks incredible. Her hair is curled in bouncy, sexy waves, and her dress is short, showing the length of her legs.

Seeing her again unlocks something primal within me. That night, the sex had been incredible. The way she felt when I was inside her, the sounds she made—it’s played on a loop since.

But she’s not alone tonight.

There’s a scrawny-looking bastard draped over her shoulder like a fucking jacket. He’s drooling over her like a desperate fucking teenager rather than a grown man.

She pushes his chest slightly, her smile forced at whatever he says in her ear. Her nod is uneasy, her stance taut, and my stomach tightens when he presses a sloppy kiss to her mouth.

She turns away, or tries to, but when she ducks her head, he grabs her face and forces another kiss that she can’t avoid.

Motherfucker.

Red films my vision, anger vibrating through me when she slips out from under his arm but he pulls her into his chest. His arms band around her, stopping her retreat.

It’s fucking crystal clear that she doesn’t want him to touch her, but he’s either not taking that hint or he’s choosing to ignore it.

I can’t hear what she’s saying to him, but I don’t need to. Her hands on his chest, keeping him back, and her tense smile speaks louder than her words.

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