Page 20 of Throttle

“You boys good here?” Chain stands beside me, landing a hand on my shoulder.

Brass shrugs. “I was enjoying my night when he showed up and started behaving like a jealous boyfriend.”

My chest is heavy, my breathing is frantic, and Tequila has a concerned look on her face.

“You two better settle whatever the fuck is going on.” He points to me, then takes a step toward Brass. “And you better learn your fucking place, prospect. Don’t make me kick you out before you’re even a part of this club.”

With his hands raised in surrender, Brass gives me a menacing glare.

“I mean it. Stay the hell away from her.” I had to say it again, making sure it’s ground in his damn brain.

He smirks. Fucking smirks.

I’ll kill him.

I lunge but get nowhere. The drive of Chain is like a powerful force pushing against my chest, as if I'm trying to break through a wall of cement.

“Jesus Christ, step outside. Cool the fuck off.” Chain shoves me away. “Damn kids.”

I listen to him, but only because I respect him. He’s a father to me. Father to all of us and if he tells me to step outside, then I’ll step the fuck outside.

I burst out of the room, the door colliding with the brick, and I inhale the cool air, letting it soothe me.

“Throttle?” I hear her gentle voice that guides me throughout the day, echoing from behind.

I face a scowling angel and a pretty rose.

“Everything okay? What happened?” Tequila’s silky sound is a calming melody. One I long to play repeatedly.

I observe her delicate throat bobbing as I get closer to her. I want to lift her over my shoulder and insist she go home and change. But what would that make me? What kind of right did I have to demand such an idiotic order?

“What the fuck are you wearing?” Shouldn’t have started with that.

She reacts by jerking her head back, as if I've struck her. I would do nothing to hurt her, though the way she’s looking at me, I’d say I did just that.

“She looks amazing.” Angel chimes in.

No shit. “I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to her.”

“Woah, what the hell is your problem tonight?” Angel cocks her hip as she crosses her arms over her chest, but I ignore her. “Fine. I can take a hint. But stop being a dick.” She leaves us in a painful silence.

Tequila’s furious for good reason.

“Shit.” I step forward, but then she takes one back.

“I know I’m not on the same page as your day of the week whores, but don’t you dare ask me something like that. You have no right.” Her voice trembles and I hate myself for it.

Day of the week whores? Is that what she thinks? It’s not a secret for all the women I’m with, but her tone is dripping with hurt and resentment. Not a chance. No one surpasses Tequila’s beauty. She took it the wrong way.

She spins to leave, but I don’t want her to go. I grab her arm and pull her close to my chest, unsurprised by how well she fits. There's a peculiar satisfaction in how she feels against me. With her hand resting on my racing heart and her warmth seeping through me, I savor her scent and how her body makes me come alive.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I just…” Her big green eyes peer up at me, and I lose the ability to think. To talk.

What the fuck? Speak, idiot. This isn’t your first time.

I clear my throat and release our embrace, massaging my stiff neck. “I don’t want shitbags looking at you.”

“Are you telling me I’m dressed like a whore? A hang-around.”

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