Page 70 of Wrangled Up

Shady appeared at Christian’s side. “Get his ass out of here before the cops haul him away. They’ll be here any minute.”

With a sigh, Christian ducked into the fray. The second man was on Tucker’s back. Thuds of fists against midsection made Christian’s stomach hollow. He gripped the man’s arm and tried to haul him off Tucker, but he clung like a burr on a dog’s tail.

“Get the hell off, man!”

The guy swung blindly at Christian, catching him square in the eye.

A primal rage burst in his chest. With a bellow, he threw a punch right at the burr’s ear. His knuckles smashed brutally, splitting around bone and cartilage. Pain radiated up his wrist to his elbow, but he ignored it and reveled in the man’s howl of pain.

The burr rolled off Tucker, who was beating the skinny cowboy into a piece of linguini. Through the flurry of fists, Christian saw that Tucker had the man’s face uglied up.

“Stop, you ass,” Christian ground out, close to Tucker’s ear. He caught Tucker’s arm mid-punch and twisted it ruthlessly behind his back. When his friend started to break his hold, Christian jerked his arm higher, putting pressure on the shoulder socket. “Get up and apologize and walk away or get a dislocated shoulder. Those are your choices.”

Blood and tears stung the eye that had been punched, and it was swelling rapidly.

The fight went out of Tucker. Under Christian’s body, Tucker’s went lax.

Passed out.

“Fucking hell.” Christian rolled his friend off the string bean cowboy and offered the man a hand up. The guy gripped Christian’s hand, and he launched to his feet.

“Get him outta here, Davis,” Shady said.

Christian hitched a thumb in his pocket and stared down at his friend’s unconscious face. Beautiful face—rugged in a way that stirred Christian. Even that new piercing made him look manlier.

With a nod, he grasped Tucker’s shirt and hauled him up and over his shoulder. Thedead weight made Christian stagger a bit, but he righted himself.

On his way past the guys Tucker had fought, Christian caught their stares. “Sorry for the trouble.”

“Tell your friend when he wakes up that he should learn to handle his whisky better.”

Whisky?Yeah, now that Christian was in such close proximity to his friend, he smelled the sharp alcohol all over him. Was this what he’d learned while away? How to be a drunk?

Someone opened the door for Christian, and he passed through it, leaving the crowd and the loud music behind. Tucker’s hard body rode on Christian’s shoulder easily as he crossed the parking lot. Only problem was getting the truck door open.

Then again…

He dumped Tucker over the side of the truck, right into the metal bed. The crash roused Tucker, and he loosed a growl.

“Sons of a bitches, I’ll finish this!”

Christian stepped on the bumper and hooked a leg over the side, perching on the tailgate. He stared down at Tucker, who was pushing himself into a sitting position. A groaneased from him as he found he’d taken more blows than originally thought.

Tucker touched the top of his head. “Lost my hat.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t lose your teeth. Or your freedom. Cops on their way, called to a bar brawl. Why did you pick a fight with those guys?”

Tucker dropped his gaze. “Can’t recall.”

“Yeah, I thought that was the case.”

“Am I allowed to sit inside your truck on the way home?” Tucker’s voice was low, contrite.

It tugged at Christian’s heartstrings. Damn him to hell. “That depends. You gonna puke?”

Tucker contemplated a moment and shook his head. Christian climbed off the tailgate and went around to the driver’s door while Tucker hauled his body out of the bed. He joined Christian in the cab a long minute later.

“Sorry about your black eye. I didn’t do that, did I?”

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