Page 30 of Bullseye
“Hey!” Coming out of the shadows, I rush up to him. “Leave her alone.” Fuming, my chest moves up and down with my racing breath.
Moving fast, Seneca uses her other hand to grab his thumb, and bending his thumb backward, she twists his arm off of her. She finally releases, and he bends forward, holding his hand to his body like she damn near crippled him. Righting himself and shaking out his hand, he takes a step closer to me.
“Well, Bullseye, how’d I know you would make an appearance? I thought after that little cold-shoulder routine she gave you, you’d given up. But always the gentleman, aren’t you?”
Moving away, she distances herself from us. “Guys, stop it. This is ridiculous.”
“What’s ridiculous,” Seth snaps, “is Bullseye over here swooping in and claiming you before the rest of us even had a chance.”
“Excuse me, claiming me?” She’s incensed.
If the moment wasn’t so charged and tense, I’d probably enjoy the beating he’s about to get.
“No oneclaimedme. I’m not some freaking piece of property. I’m a human being, and I don’t have time for your stupid little pissing games. I have real problems to worry about.”
I knew it. What the hell does she have going on?
“Sen,” I nod to her. “Come on.”
“So, what?” Seth rages. “You’re going to swoop in again, Bullseye? With your muscles and your movie-star face…? Well, fuck you.”
He lands his grubby paws on my chest and pushes me backward. Losing my balance, I stumble, but righting myself, I charge at him, taking him down by the waist. A cloud of Arizona dust forms around us on impact. Lifting up onto my knees, I straddle him, and with one good punch, I clock him on the jaw. His head rolls to the side.
That should be enough to teach him a lesson.
Balancing on my knees, I wipe my hands down my jacket and then jump to my feet. Yeah, Nick’s going to be pissed. We don’t need this shit at Steel Knights—we’re supposed to have each other’s backs and form a brotherhood—but sometimes, this shit has to go down. Nick will understand.
Putting my hand out toward Seneca, I beckon her. “C’mon. Your window still isn’t fixed from this damned punk. You’re staying at my place.” I’m loud enough that I’m certain he’s heard me.
“Shit, Bullseye.” She marches up to me.
Despite how pissed she looks, it feels good to be this close to her again.
“I had this under control,” she insists.
“Maybe. But he’s a wildcard, Sen—”
Suddenly, her face morphs from pissed to scared. Her eyes widen. “Bullseye, look out!”
As I turn around, Seth swipes at me with a switchblade.
“Damn it, Seth!” I duck back just before he slices me on the arm. “What the hell are you doing?”
Standing there, with his eyes fixed on me, hunched over—with his chin down and the corners of his mouth turned up into a sneer—he no longer looks human. His chest heaves up and down with his racing breath. Fucking Dynamite.
“I don’t know what you think you’re doing, Seth.”
I walk in a circle around him with my hands up in front of me, and he moves along with me. In my peripheral vision, I glimpse Seneca making a run for the bar. Good girl. Stay the hell away from this mess.
My gaze drops to his feet as a trickle of sweat drips down my back. The asshole’s going to lunge, and I’m going to know, by the way he distributes his weight, when it’s going to happen. There’s no way I’m dying out here tonight. Not at the hands of this punk, and not after everything I’ve been through in my life.
And I sure as hell won’t let him hurt Seneca.
“Seth!”
Daring a glance upward, I see Harry rushing out of the clubhouse with Nick and Sen on his heels. Shit.
“Drop the knife, Seth,” Harry commands.
