Page 26 of Filthy Love

The guy protested. “Hey, asshole!” Hawk ignored the hell out of him or he’d murder right here in public.

“Get down from there before you break your damn neck,” his command was a thunderclap boil of pissed offandhorny. Desire squeezed his voice box just as it did the same to his balls. “You’re giving every fucking pervert in here free rights to peek up that little skirt. I’m not having it.” He hissed.

Gia glanced only once, a look cold as snow and went right back to dancing to whatever tween-song was playing.

The stool tipping as she did.

He caught her fast, grasping her around the waist, getting his hands full of warm, lush woman, she was over his shoulder in a second.

“Heyyyyyyyyyyy! Put me down, Hawk! I was having fun! You can’t do this, we’re not friends.” She garbled her words crossly, her hands going to his ass to steady herself before she began waving to her audience like she was Cher on her goodbye tour.

The crowd cheered.

One punk tried to reach for her outstretched hands.

Hawk snarled and landed her on her feet, glaring at the three men who had advanced forward with each a death wish.

He was just dying to bury some stupid moron, especially the short little dipshit who eyed her tits like they were mashed potatoes and gravy. Hawk towered over the man, rumbled a warning in his throat. “Fuck off while you can still walk.”

“Hey now, man, we don't want no trouble today, okay? Just take your girl on home.” Instructed Eric standing on his side of the bar, a worry etched on his face that his place was about to become kindling.

Understandable, Hawk did tend to cause riots from time to time. Not his fault, but he never backed down from a fight. Usually because he was itching to fight.

The shorter man took his cue and scurried off, so did another, but one dumb-fuck didn't back down. “We were having fun, weren't we honey?”

“Yesssss.” Gia giggled half hidden by Hawk's size, he had his hand pinned to her waist. “You're being a buzzkill, Hawk! Me and my friend—whatsyournameagain?”

“Robert, but you can call me baby, sweetheart.”

“How about I call the undertaker for you.” Hawk broadcast in the quietest voice as the guy smiled at Gia in that lustful way any man would recognize.

Maybe his head snapped.

Maybe his logic took a fucking trip because the next second Hawk had the royal prick pinned against the bar and the man was screaming for no good reason at all.

Oh, and Hawk's pocket knife was embedded in the man's hand, harpooning him to the wood countertop.

Maybe that explained all the caterwauling.

After much howling and uproar from the crowd and servers, Hawk pulled back his knife, he pinned the guy with a stare and pointed the end of the knife dripping blood at his face. “Leave by the door you came in or next time you’ll be in a pine box.”

Who cared where the guy went. Maybe he died on the floor. Hawk had already turned back around to face the drunken brat.

She was propping the bar up with an elbow. Booty poking out. Not fazed at all. If anything, she was flapping her painted lashes at him.

She was the good doctor and he was the head case. How then in this fucking equation was he the rational one?

Behind him Eric buzzed for Hawk to leave. Hawk waved the fucker off. Striding forward he slid an arm around Gia’s waist. “Grab your purse, little bit. Your drunk ass is going home.”

“Not your lil bit. Did—” hic. “Did you just stab my bestest friend?”

Hawk grumbled. “He was no friend to you.”

“You—you don’t know, mister. He could—could have been my bestest best friend in the world and you stabbed him. You don’t wanna be my friend. Had to find new ones.”

“He’s lucky he’s still walking. Don’t push me.” All his heat and temper miraculously dissipated the moment her two hands came to his chest, sliding under the unzipped jacket and up to his neck, she tangled fingers in his beard and tugged.

Hawk grunted.

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