Page 62 of Indulge
I race over to Bella, who is wiping away a drop of blood from her forehead, still holding the tray like a weapon, chest heaving, hair falling into her eyes. And then, she smashes it over his head. Over and over.
I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her back, looking at the stunned people at the bar watching. Blood pours from his face.
“You alright?” I ask, breathing hard.
She nods. “Yeah. You?”
“Never better.” I grin, teeth flashing. “You fight dirty, precious.”
“Learned from the best,” she says, tossing the tray down.
“Told you, I don’t need protecting.”
The bouncer pushes through the crowd, grabbing the three idiots as they try to collect themselves. I take Bella’s hand and steer her toward the back exit.
Outside, the night air hits. She’s still trembling with adrenaline; so am I.
“Thanks for the backup,” I say, half-laughing, still catching my breath, spinning her to face me.
I tuck a stray strand of hair away from her face, and she bats her lashes at me. Mesmerizing me again.
“You’re welcome. Next time, though, maybe don’t make enemies in the first five minutes?”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “Next time, maybe let me handle it.”
I lean in closer, running my nose along her cheek.
“But, I’ll always protect you, Bel. No one gets to touch you without permission.”
She pulls back and arches a brow. “And miss the fun? Not a chance.”
She flashes me a perfect grin. “Thank you, though. It’s nice to know someone has my back.”
I look at her, really look, and it hits me. This woman doesn’t need guarding. She just needs someone willing to stand beside her when the world catches fire.
And God help me, I think that someone might be me. Even though it really shouldn’t be.
28
REGGIE
My phone rings in my pocket again, just as I’m signing on the dotted line. I grunt and pull it out.
The little black kitten purrs from inside the crate. I swear to God if I get lumbered with looking after this scratching machine there will be hell to pay.
I don’t do pets. I want to make an effort with her. Make it right after what I said.
I answer the call.
“Tim?” I greet him.
It’s never good having the commissioner call me.
“One second,” I whisper to the lady, and head outside for some privacy.
“Just got a call from a local bar, your brother and some British woman nearly killed a guy on the dance floor.”
My blood boils.
