Page 170 of Tempting Fate

“There’s no cold war,” I snap from between gritted teeth. “She’s free to do whatever she wants.”

“Cool. Cool.” Hunter nods his head like a carnival clown. “My bad for thinking the love you two have is the forever kind.”

His dig hits the bull’s-eye. I jerk like I’ve been shot, then try to disguise it by scoffing, “What do you know about love? Fuckin’ nothin’, ’cause if you did, you’d know it walks hand in hand with sacrifice. Sometimes what’s good for one isn’t fuckin’ good for the other person?—”

“Fuck this shit.” Slash pushes to his feet and slaps Hunter across the back of the head. His voice is gruff as he announces, “I’m outta here.”

After shoving his way through the crowd, he uses both hands to push the heavy double doors at the exit open in one angry movement. They crash against the outside walls, and the left one drops off its hinges. One of the new prospects ducks out from behind the bar to lift it back in place.

“Does anyone know what the fuck is up his arse?” I ask.

The tension between us is to be expected. He loves Lily like a brother, and I hurt her. Also broke his nose and cheekbone and left him with a chunk missing from his eyebrow. Doubtful we’ll ever be as close as we once were. That’s my cross to bear, though, and it doesn’t stop me from worrying about the random way his temper has been exploding over nothing the past two days. Normally, the only time he acts like this is around the anniversary, but that’s still two months away. Something’s off with Slash, and I need to work out what it is before he gets to the point where he’s thinking about hurting himself again.

“Bebe?” Toker offers questioningly. “Not that he’s mentioned her in months.”

Hunter claims the seat his big brother just abandoned. He leans back on two legs with a pensive look. “Close, but no cigar. He’ll work it out, though.” Pausing to screw up his face at me like my mere presence offends him, he adds. “Slash is smarter than most men. More honourable, too. He doesn’t run when the goin’ gets tough.”

“You got somethin’ to say to me?”

“Yeah, I have one question.”

“Have at it, then.”

“How do you feel about the dickhead in the chinos havin’ his tongue down Cherub’s throat?” Hunter asks with a grim chuckle.

I knock my stool in to the table as I scramble to my feet.

Every nerve ending in my body pings with one objective.

Lily.

Stop her.

Now.

The crowd parts when I start over to her. Drunk bikers stumble out of my way, allowing me an easy passage to the bar. When I reach it, Lily doesn’t notice me because she’s too busy playing tonsil hockey with the chino-wearing douchebag. Nadia sees me approach. She flips me the bird with both hands. I ignore her. She’s Lily’s girl, and I like knowing, past mistakes aside, that she’s got Lily’s back through thick and thin.

Although I’ve spent months telling myself that I’m imagining how empty I feel without her, I swear the moment my hands are gripping Lily’s hips, everything that’s been off kilter in my world rights itself. Slinging her over my shoulder, I use one hand to knock Mr. Prissy Haircut off the other side of the bar. He screams like a bitch when he hits the concrete floor.

His two mates step up to me. I bare my teeth at them, and they back down without a fight.

“Put me down!” Lily shouts. Unlike the trio of pussies she brought to the compound, my woman mounts a proper defence. She hammer-fists me in the kidney, but I’m so lost in the feel of her body touching mine after so long that I barely register the impact. “I’m not joking, you bloody arsehole. I’m going to murder you if you don’t let me go.”

“Bring it, metukà shelì. You always come hardest when you wanna kill me. I look forward to hate fuckin’ you into submission.”

“Keep dreaming. I’ll never touch your diseased dick again.”

With a chuckle, I secure her in place by wrapping my arm around her thighs. I’m not drunk, yet I waver on my feet when I get a lungful of her perfume. It’s been months since I’ve been close enough to smell her. Like an addict who gets a hit after being clean, the familiarity of her scent goes straight to my head. Clamping my hand down on her arse when she tries to push upright, I carry Lily out of the bar.

The motherfuckers at my table clap us out of the room.

Lily swears a blue streak. “God, you’re so fucking embarrassing. An honest to God fucking nightmare. Pain in my arse. Impossible. Stupid. Mean. Prick.”

“Push a man too far, and that’s usually what happens. You’ve been tryin’ to get me to bite all night… well, here I am, sweet thing, biting.”

“You’re so fucking conceited. I stopped wanting your attention months ago. Didn’t even know you were here until you started growling at me. Tonight was for me, dickhead… I was attempting to move on from you and your mangled version of love—just like you told me to.”

“Jesus, flay a man alive, why don’t ya.”

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