He stepped forward into my space. “I’m not going anywhere unless you’re with me,” he insisted.
I could smell alcohol on his breath and winced. “How much have you had to drink?”
“For fuck’s sake, Naomi. Stop trying to blame everything on a drink or two. Now, I let you have your space and look what you did with it.” He swept an arm out. “This isn’t you. You don’t belong in a place like this with people like them.”
“Let go of me, Warner,” I said calmly.
Instead of letting me go, he pushed me back against the wall and held me there by my biceps.
I didn’t like it. It wasn’t like when Knox boxed me in and my senses were full of him, when I wanted to do anything to be closer to him. This was different.
“You need to go, Warner,” I said.
“You want me to go, you’re going with me.”
I shook my head. “I can’t leave. I’m working.”
“Fuck this place, Naomi. Fuck your little temper tantrum. I’m willing to forgive you.”
“Take your fucking hands off her. Now.”
My knees went weak at Knox’s voice.
“Move along, asshole. This is between me and my fiancée,” Warner said.
“Not the brightest answer,” Lucian said mildly.
Knox and Lucian were standing at the mouth of the hallway. Lucian had his hand on Knox’s shoulder. I couldn’t tell if he was restraining him or telling him he had his back.
Then suddenly Knox wasn’t standing at the mouth of the hall, and Warner didn’t have his hands on me anymore.
“Give him the first shot,” Lucian called.
Warner swung, and I watched in horror as he landed a punch that snapped Knox’s head back.
“Good enough,” Lucian said, his hands in the pockets of his slacks, the picture of relaxation.
Knox let his fists do the talking. The first punch connected with Warner’s nose, and I heard the crunch. Blindly, Warner struck out. The blow glanced off Knox’s shoulder. As blood poured from Warner’s nose, Knox threw another punch and then another before Warner crumpled to the floor. Before Knox could follow him down, Lucian was pulling him back.
“Enough,” he said calmly as Knox fought to free himself. “Take care of Naomi.”
When Lucian said my name, Knox’s gaze abandoned my bloodied ex-fiancé and found me.
“What the fuck?” Warner snarled as Lucian hauled him to his feet. “I’m calling my lawyer! Your ass will be in jail by morning!”
“Good luck with that. His brother’s the chief of police, and my lawyer is ten times more expensive than yours. Watch the door,” Lucian warned. And then he used Warner’s face to open the kitchen door. A cheer went up in the bar as the two men disappeared.
And then I wasn’t thinking about who was going to clean up the bloody smear on the glass because Knox was in front of me, looking a thousand shades of pissed off.
THIRTY-FIVE
THE WHOLE STORY AND A HAPPY ENDING
Knox
“I have to go to the restroom,” Naomi announced and bolted into the ladies’ room.
“Goddammit,” I muttered, clenching my hands into fists. Adrenaline and rage raced through my veins, heating my blood to boiling.
I debated going into the No Man’s Land after her, but Max, Silver, and Fi beat me to it.
“You can’t all leave the floor at the same fucking time,” I called through the door.
“Fuck off, Knoxy. We got this,” Fi yelled back.
“And we got this, Knox,” Wraith said, throwing a bar towel over his shoulder and stepping behind the bar. “You’re all gettin’ beers or shots cause I don’t know how the fuck to pour anything else.”
A raucous cheer rose up from the customers.
The kitchen door swung open, and Milford the cook walked out with two baskets of brisket nachos in one hand and an ice pack wrapped in a towel in the other. He tossed me the ice, then let out an ear-splitting whistle.
Sloane jumped up and grabbed the baskets. “Yo! Who got the brisket nachos?”
Hands went up all over the bar.
“If I find out any of you are lying, I’ll personally ruin your life for an entire year.”
Sloane was no mild-mannered librarian. She had a legendary temper that, when roused, was a Category Five Shitstorm.
All but two hands wisely went down.
“That’s better,” she said.
“We got this, boss. See to your lady,” Milford insisted.
“Did Lucian—”