Page 26 of Riggs
Chapter Eleven
Riggs
It's been a few hours since leaving Luna upstairs, and that is precisely where I left my concentration as well. Even the regular noise from the live music playing tonight, mixed with the patrons having a good time isn't enough to drown out my all-consuming thoughts of her. Like a movie scene set on loop, I replay her lips on mine for the first time. I haven't taken my eyes off the back-entrance, which leads to my apartment. Maybe I shouldn't have kissed her. Not so soon. My self-control went right out the fucking window. Goddamn, the way her body melted against my touch; like she'd been craving me as much as I'd been craving her.
"Riggs." Wick's voice draws me from my thoughts. Snapping my head around, I look at my brother.
"Yeah?"
Dragging a chair from the next table, Wick sits across from me, straddling it. "What's up with you tonight?"
"Nothin'." Picking up the glass of whiskey sitting on the table in front of me, I bring the rim to my lips, inhaling the smokiness of the aged bourbon before tipping my head back. The smooth, earthy flavor coats my tongue doing nothing to erase the taste of Luna.
Leaning forward, Wick braces his forearms on the back of the chair. He studies me for a beat. In the background, Fender starts strumming a new tune on his guitar. "Spit it out." I down the rest of the brown liquor in the bottom of the glass in my hand.
"She's got you feelin' something," Wick says, and I grunt. My best friend sees right through me. He grins. "We all see it. You got the look."
"What look is that, brother?" I ask.
"The one that has you looking past tomorrow," he says, hitting the nail on the head. "She's got herself mixed up in some serious shit. Rex wants her bad. My gut tells me the fucker will stop at nothing to get her."
My body grows tense. "He'll have to go through me first."
"Is she worth dying for?" His question pisses me off.
"If keeping her from harm meant taking my last breath, I would do it," I tell him with certainty.
Wick nods then looked past my shoulder. Whatever catches his eye causes his face to harden. "Third guy positioned near the end of the bar," he lifts his chin. Turning, I look over my shoulder at the man in question and recognize him immediately. We've run the asshat off before when we caught him peddling drugs to the crowds outside our bar about a month ago. "The fucker just dropped some shit into the little brunette's drink sitting beside him."
I take the scene in for a second. She's talking to a couple of guys. I notice their body language and catch the slight nod to the guy behind her; the one Wick's attention is trained on. "Looks like the three of them are in on it. Those two distracted her long enough for their buddy there to slip her something." Both of us are out of our chairs and across the bar within seconds. The two assholes who had the young woman distracted with conversation catches us heading in their direction and try to leave. Everest, our prospect whose manning the front door blocks the exit. The other fucker moves to flee once he spots the reason why his friends are trying to retreat in a hurry. Grabbing him by the back of his neck, I shove his face into the bar top. He squirms, trying to break free.
"What the hell?" he screeches. Applying pressure, I keep my hold as I grab the wine glass beside me, pour the contents down the sink behind the bar, and turn to the young woman who almost became this scumbag's victim tonight.
"Never turn your back on your drink." Her eyes dart from her now emptied glass back to me then to the guy whose face I have smashed against the countertop. Standing the pile of dog shit up, I twist his arm behind his back, placing his hand and wrist in a painfully awkward angle — his face grimaces.
"Shit, man. I'm sorry, bro." I twist his wrist harder, making him raise on his toes.
"I'm not your, bro. Apologize to her asshole. She's the one you and your buddies over there," I gesture toward the front door where Wick and Everest have the other two assholes contained, "were plannin' on assaulting tonight."
"I didn't do shit," he spits. His bullshit attitude pisses me off further. I apply more pressure to his wrist.
"Goddammit, I'm sorry, okay?" he says through clenched teeth. The scope of the situation starts to show on the young woman's face, but she stands tall and faces her would be assailant, then punches him square in the nose. I grin. Good for her.
"Get an Uber and go home," I instruct the young lady. Nodding, she pulls her phone from her handbag. "Let's go," I order the guy and push him forward. Turning, I lead the guy across the bar. "Man, the door," I order Sean our other bouncer. Jerking my head toward the back door, Wick and Everest follow.
Once we've stepped outside into the back alley, I toss the fucker to the gravel. My men keep hold of the others; whose faces lose all color. "I believe I told you once before not to let me catch you around my bar again." The guy gets back to his feet.
His eyes cut to his buddies, then looks back at me. "You don't own these streets, and what I do ain't none of your business." He spits at my feet. I advance on him, landing a blow to his already swelling nose from the punch he received earlier. The crack heard from it breaking, followed by his blood dripping from his hands as he shields his face from further assault satisfies me. "You broke my fucking nose," he cries in pain.
"You deserve worse." I land a blow to his ribcage, knocking the wind from his body and he doubles over. This time when he comes back up, he's holding a five-inch blade in his right hand.
"Stupid move." I hear Wick mumble.
Just as fast, I reach into my cut, producing my handgun. "Didn't anyone ever tell your dumb ass never bring a knife to a gunfight?"
"Fuck you. I'm not going to let you beat the shit out of me without a fight." He widens his stance.
"What the hell, Jace? You're going to get us all killed." One of his pals tries to warn him. Now I have a name for the motherfucker. Jace stares me down and answers his conspirator. "Shut the fuck up," he tells him.
