“Good to see you,” Gunnar said. “Who’s the girl?”
Aaron put his arm around my shoulder possessively, and I could practically smell the smug he radiated. Ah, wasn’t that sweet—he was proud to have me as a date. Wasn’t that just suicidal of him. God. In the distance, I heard the sound of glass breaking, cutting through the music and conversation all around us. I glanced up, sensing danger. Then Reese’s voice rang out.
“Hold on, son.”
I looked at him, then followed his gaze across the room to see Painter.
Enraged.
He was stalking toward us, eyes full of murder.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
In an instant, Reese was pushing through the crowd, grabbing Painter’s arm. I focused on the gesture—Reese was trying to save me. Pulling away from Aaron, I hissed urgently, “We have to get out of here right now.”
He was too busy watching the show, though, too stupid to realize how much danger he was in. Just like a big, dumb puppy. God, Painter was going to slaughter Aaron. He’d go back to jail, and it would all be my fault. On the bright side, I probably wouldn’t outlive my dumbass date by long, so I guess I had that going for me. Why hadn’t Aaron listened when I told him we needed to leave?
Painter shoved Reese off, then he was in front of us before I could get out a word of explanation. I screamed when he caught the front of Aaron’s shirt, jerking him into the center of the room as his fist slammed into his face. He hit him again, and I found myself screaming even louder when Aaron fell to the ground, Painter following him down like a rabid dog, raining vengeance.
“You asshole!” I shouted, shocked and horrified, because this was hell. It had to be. I’d fallen through a hole in the world, straight into hell, where all my worst fears were coming true. Suddenly Puck was there, dragging Painter off my date, who was moaning and whimpering on the ground.
Puck let Painter go, and now he stood over Aaron, taking deep breaths, the effort to stop fighting almost more than he could handle.
“Get him out of here,” he growled. “Get him out of here before I kill him.”
“Fuck,” Horse said, grabbing Aaron under the arms. A path cleared between him and the door, and I shrieked wordlessly at Painter, angrier than I’d ever been before. What if Aaron pressed charges?
How dare he pull this kind of shit?
He turned on me, face full of terrible purpose as Reese stepped between us, blocking his path.
“Not happening, son,” he said.
“It’s none of your business,” Painter snapped. Damned right—it wasn’t anybody’s business. Stupid fucking bikers, telling people what to do. I was an adult, free to date whoever the hell I wanted. Painter needed to go straight to hell. I’d take him there, too—he might be the big, tough guy but I was a motherfucking nurse. I knew exactly how to kill a man, kill him in ways so terrible he’d be begging for death before I finished.
“She’s the one who came here,” Painter added with a sneer. Oh, fuck him. Fuck him.
“I didn’t even know where we were going!” I shouted. “It was just a date, you asshole!”
“He’s a fucking biker. You broke the rules, Mel. Get your ass over here.”
“Not happening,” Reese said, his voice like thunder. “I am not dealing with this tonight. Painter, get your ass home. Melanie, you’re with me.”
Something dark filled the room, some sort of swirling tension I didn’t understand and didn’t care about, because I’d had just about enough of this shit. Painter and I needed to have this out once and for all. Using every bit of my strength, I shoved Reese out of the way, launching myself toward Painter.
“What I do is none of your goddamned business!”
Painter stared at me, a slow and terrible smile coming over his face.
“Fuck it,” Reese said. “I’m done with both of you.”
I felt a moment of triumph, then Painter took a step toward me, hell in his eyes.
“I’ll give you a ride home, Mel,” he said, softly menacing. “We can talk when we get there. Privacy, you know?”
Oh shit. I looked around frantically, but the wall of men around me didn’t break. They were all there—Ruger, Horse, Banks. Their faces were hard, and I realized in that instant that these men—men who had been so helpful toward me over the years—weren’t my friends.
They were Painter’s brothers.
“Fuck . . .” I whispered, suddenly terrified.
“Maybe we’ll do that, too.”
In an instant he caught me, throwing me over his shoulder and striding toward the door. I screamed again, my throat sore as he pushed through the crowd, carrying me through the parking lot. At first I thought we were headed for his bike, but he passed it, crossing the road instead.
I raised my head, staring blindly at the prospects. Two of them had laid Aaron on the ground next to the building, obviously trying to figure out how seriously injured he was. A third stood and stared, something like shock on his face as Painter hauled me into the trees.
Then we were in the woods, surrounded by darkness. His hand came down over my ass, swatting me hard before he dropped me to the ground. If he hadn’t steadied me I would’ve fallen over.
“It’s over, Mel. It’s all over. You’re mine now.”
Steadying myself, I smacked his chest, because two could play at that game. “You had no fucking right to hurt him—he didn’t do anything to you.”
“He touched my woman,” Painter snarled. “I’ve held off. I’ve given you so much fucking space you could build a goddamned kingdom, but I told you what would happen if you came back to my world. So far as I’m concerned, that means you’re mine. I’m sick of this shit. C’mere.”