Page 32 of Wild Card

My gaze darts around, looking for Bear, but for the first time all night, he’s otherwise engaged. He’s got a clipboard, and he’s signing something. It seems like maybe he’s accepting a delivery.

There’s a man on the customer side of the bar who hands Bear several sheets of paper.

Either way, he’s busy with actual work.

I make it to the corner of the bar. Instead of walking around and getting in the bartender’s way, I head toward Bear’s office.

Who knows why my instincts pull me in that direction, but I’m sure he’ll notice I’m missing and come looking.

Also, his office has a door with a lock.

I glance back, and my heart stalls as I catch sight of the men from last night. They do appear to be following me.

My head whips forward as I pass the bathrooms.

“Whatcha running from, honey?” Jake asks, laughing.

“You didn’t need to sic Bear on us if you weren’t interested, but it sure seemed like you were,” Mike or Mark says.

Someone grabs my wrist, spinning me around to face them.

My heart thunders as Jake looms over me. He’s not an unattractive guy, but something in his energy has my instincts on edge.

“I-I’m sorry about last night.” I exhale heavily, trying to center myself, so they don’t scent my fear. “I drank too much?—”

“That’s fine.” Mike laughs. “You can make it up to us tonight.”

“I’m going to say this exactly one time—take your slimy hands off my omega,” Thorne growls, coming around the corner into the hallway.

He strides forward without hesitation while I blink like an idiot.

Mike—who might actually be Mark—and Jake both turn to see what’s happening, but Jake doesn’t release my arm. In fact, his grip grows painful when he yanks me with him as he moves.

Thorne always looks dangerous, but his energy screams that he’s a threat.

I saw a lot working at the club in New York, including Thorne executing two men for Avan Barrett.

Or rather, under Barrett’s orders.

Jake and Mike don’t know that, but they should be able to sense Thorne’s demeanor.

Thorne moves nearly faster than my eyes can comprehend. His fist flies at Mike’s throat. The other man pulls an arm up, slamming Thorne’s hand down, but Thorne spins and kicks Mike in the hip.

My eyes widen as he grabs Mike’s shoulders, bending him parallel with the ground. Thorne’s knee comes up, connecting with Mike’s stomach as he slams the other man’s head into the wall.

Mike slumps, looking a little dazed but still conscious.

Thorne spins to face us as he smirks. “Your two-second grace period is up.” He grabs Jake by the front of his T-shirt and headbutts him in the nose while simultaneously prying Jake’s hand off my arm.

I stumble backward as Mike struggles to his feet and takes a swing at Thorne from behind. He connects with Thorne’s ribs, but Thorne tosses an elbow back at the same time as ducking and pivoting. He slams a palm into Jake’s solar plexus and continues turning until he faces Mike.

It’s all very aggressive.

Typical alpha posturing.

And yet, my damn nipples throb as Thorne continues to defend himself against the two attackers.

My entire body pulses with heat, and my stomach aches with a powerful wave of cramps.

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