Page 9 of Moon's Promise

Mick laughed. “At least yours stayed attached to your body. Mine took off running when I threw them out of the bar. I’m hoping they’re waiting for me in the parking lot—my balls, not the bitches.”

Moon laughed along with him. “There isn’t much that scares me, but, brother, I’m man enough to admit they scare the bejesus out of me.”

“Same,” Mick confessed. “I expected you to put a stop to the way they were treating Jewell.”

Moon rolled his eyes to the ceiling and nearly fell off the stool. “Why? Jewell saw them when she came in the door. She also could have left when they started goading her.”

Mick’s expression filled with understanding. “You think she wanted a fight?”

Moon looked at his empty glass then met Mick’s eyes meaningfully.

Reaching for the whiskey bottle, Mick poured him a knuckle’s worth then slid the glass toward him.

“I think Jewell wanted to let off some steam, and if Rory hadn’t gotten her out of here, those bitches would be nursing more than a bloody nose.”

Mick shook his head. “I don’t know about that. I think the bitches would have wiped the floor with her.”

Moon gave a sarcastic grunt. “You were never good a judge of women.”

“You’re a dick when you’re drunk.”

“I am even when I’m not.” Moon shrugged.

“That’s for sure.” Giving him an aggravated glance, he started wiping down the counter around him. “Finish up; I’m locking up in five minutes.”

Moon stared at the bartender balefully.

“Careful …” Mick warned. “You better remember who’s the one who taught you fuckers to fight.”

Moon picked up his drink and slung it to the back of his throat before he set it back down on the bar.

“You need a ride home?”

Moon considered the offer. “You have your car or bike outside?”

“My car.”

“No, thanks.”

“How you getting back to the club? Because you’re sure as shit not getting on your bike.”

“I’ll walk.”

“You’d rather walk than catch a ride with me?”

“I’m not getting in a car. The only way you’ll catch my ass in a car is if someone puts my dead body in one.”

Mick raised curious eyebrows at him. “You’re still claustrophobic as fuck, aren’t you?”

“No. I just choose not to ride in cars.”

“Brother”—Mick plunked the bar towel into the sink before raising a disbelieving gaze to him—“there isn’t anyone who would choose to freeze off their balls in this weather rather than drive in a heated car.”

“I don’t feel the cold.”

“Yeah … that’s because your ass is still sitting inside. Whatever …” Mick picked up the empty glass to put in the sink. “Let’s go. I’ll follow you in my car to make sure you get to the club okay.”

Moon stood up. “I don’t need you to follow me.”

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