Page 37 of Rut Bar

“Stay the fuck off our property,” Tiny growls, “or you’re gonna see how mad I can get.”

When the front door shuts, my blood is still pumping through my veins. I’m electrified. Is there anything better than knowing I took an abused omega away from an alphahole?

I turn to Anthony and raise a brow. “You got his photo?”

“Did you doubt that I would?” Anthony asks. He grabs his phone and a minute later, mine chirps and I get to stare at the alpha’s smarmy, smug face. I wish I could see him now, see the fear in his eyes, but it’s better if I don’t reveal myself now that our hand is tipped. Is he giving Dan trouble? Is the alpha meeting the business end of Tiny’s fists? I wish I could watch. I love it when Tiny grinds an alpha’s face into the floor.

Pure elation and adrenaline flood my system. Now that the need for subterfuge is over, I’m left with the rush. It’s like I stepped off a roller coaster. Like I can do anything.

“That’s gonna go great on the wall with the others. Good work.” I turn around and bump into an alpha, who reaches up and steadies me on my heels.

The familiar scent of warm, freshly baked bread fills my nose and teases my senses. They’re already in overdrive from my fight-or-flight system triggered. “It’s you,” he says. “You’re the bar that’s helping the?—”

Fuck.

I grab his tie and wind it around my hand and yank his head down. The fabric—burgundy with thin gold stripes—pulls taut and his words get cut off mid-sentence as I choke him. I press my lips to his ear. “If you blow my club’s cover, it will be your life’s biggest regret. Not your boring little desk job. Not your off the rack suits that don’t quite fit you. Not your sad little corporate coffee mug. Me. I will ruin you. I will make you regret the day you crossed my threshold. Am I crystal clear?”

His hand cups my hip, and I tense and get ready for him to grab me or push me away, but all he does is hold it there as I choke the air from him. After another yank on his tie to prove my point, I ease my grip and let him breathe.

“Everything okay?” Anthony asks from my side. I didn’t see him join us.

Patrons near us give us wary looks, but the rest of the club is oblivious. The omegas closest to the stage are too busy trying to toss a wiffle ball into a beer pitcher while it’s balanced on an alpha dancer’s erection.

Brendan stares down at me with brown eyes blown dark, his pupils wide with lust. The crowd surges, and he’s shoved against me. My leg slots between his, and it brushes against a bulge that shouldn’t be there. His eyes slide halfway shut and he shivers. I eye the impressive erection tenting his pants underneath the edge of his suit jacket.

Oh. He likes it. Anthony was right. The buttoned-up ones really are the kinkiest.

Realization floods through me as I come back to my senses. Ah, shit. I choked my IRS agent and threatened him with pain and suffering, and… and I think hereallyliked it.

Brendan reaches for his tie and loosens it. His face is red. Is that all from the choking, or is that embarrassment too? Shame and arousal are a potent mix.

“Everything is fine,” I say before things can escalate anymore.Shitshitshit.I didn’t mean to do that. It was the endorphins flooding my system, the adrenaline making me think I’m invulnerable.

I am so epicly fucked. The IRS is going to throw me in tax jail or something. Does the IRS have jail?

Brendan’s nostrils flare as he inhales, and then he purrs. It’s a deep rumbling sound that reminds me of 16 wheelers on the highway. The sound chokes off before it can get really started. He coughs to clear his throat and drops his eyes.

“Fine,” he agrees. “Everything is fine. I’m going to… Excuse me.”

Anthony and I watch the IRS agent slip through the crowd and head to the stairs. I should follow him to apologize or explain, but that would probably make things worse. Nothing good comes from an alpha who’s cornered and threatened.

“Did he pop a fear boner?” Anthony asks.

I sigh and close my eyes and pray to the universe to grant me patience. “Yeah.”

“Huh. This is working out even better than I could have planned.”

“What doesthatmean?” I ask, rounding on Anthony for an explanation.

Anthony gives me a tilted grin, then reaches around me to cup my ass. He grabs it, his fingers digging into the exact spots where he spanked the deepest bruises.Motherfucker.He grabbed those spots on purpose. “Where are your panties? I can’t find a line.”

I remember his promise—threat—and blush. “No! This doesn’t count! These are extenuating circumstances.”

“I don’t remember allowing for stipulations.”

Anthony’s grin is full of wicked promises.

ChapterTen

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