Page 28 of Trouble

Without hesitation, I’m charging at them. I’m not the first person to react—thank fuck for Bolts fans; this town is full of good people—but I’m the one who clutches at his shoulders and tears him away from her.

“I will fucking kill you.” I slam him against the wall and grab him by the throat just like he did to Melina.

“We were just having a conversation. She’s my girlfriend. You know how it is.” He says it as if we’re best friends. Like because I’m a man, I should understand why it was necessary for him to knock a woman around.

Filled with blind rage, I squeeze his throat tighter and slap my hand against the wall. “Here’s what I know. I know that every camera in this vicinity will be wiped if I ask. I know that every person in the stadiumwill forget that you were even here. Forget that you even exist. I know that if I squeeze just a little tighter right here,” I pinch down, and his face turns so purple I think he may actually pop, “I’ll break your windpipe and air will escape into your neck and chest, which will cause you to have a heart attack and die in mere minutes.”

“Declan, please,” Melina cries. “He’s not worth it.”

Despite her pleading, the sound of her voice only makes me squeeze tighter. I hate the fear in it. Hate that only an hour ago, she walked into this arena and jumped into Cade’s arms, wearing the brightest smile, yet now, this jackass has stolen that smile. I love that smile. I want to see it every day, even if it’s only aimed at Cade.

“Dude, you’re going to kill him,” someone shouts.

Dammit. He’s probably right.

My pulse is pounding so loud in my ears that I can barely hear the crowd around me, but I can feel her fear, and that guts me.

“Please,” she whispers as I meet her tear-streaked face.

With a grunt, I release him. His body crumples to the ground, but I don’t stop to watch. I march straight over to Melina and press my hand—the hand that almost took the life of another person—to her cheek. “I’m sorry.”

She sobs. “No. You saved me,” she whispers, covering my hand with hers. “Take me home. Please. Take me home.”

Like it’s second nature, I sweep her up into my arms. I don’t put her down even oncewe get outside.

As I step out onto the sidewalk, her driver scrambles out of the car and darts over to us, brow furrowed in concern.

“Can you take us back to my house? I’ll come back for my car later.”

He leads us to the car and opens the door. I still don’t put Melina down. It’s a challenge, but I manage to get us both settled inside. Then I hold her in my arms the whole way home.

My phone rings nonstop the entire way. I know I’m an ass for not calling to let Lake know Melina is okay, but with the way she’s shaking in my arms, I don’t dare let her go for even a second. I stroke her arm with my thumb, molding my body around hers, wishing I could shield her from pain.

The driver helps me get her into the house, carrying her bag and unlocking the door once I’ve dug my keys out of my pocket. I head straight to her bedroom, but when I try to set her on the bed so I can lock up, she clings to my chest.

“Please don’t go.”

Pulling her tight to me again, I nod at the driver. “Thank you. I’ll lock up later.”

With tears streaming down her face, she whimpers. “I’m so sorry I’m a mess.”

“Don’t ever apologize for your emotions. I know I’m not good at this. I know I’m probably not who you want?—”

She clutches at my shirt and buries her face in the crook of my neck. “You’re who I need.”

The desperation in her voice, the sadness, it’s all overwhelming.

Just as I drop my cheek to the top of her head and soak in the feel of her pressed up against me, my phone chimes again. “That’s probably Lake,” I murmur.

Sucking in a hard breath, she peers up at me. The brokenness in her gaze damn near kills me. “Why would she be calling you and not me?”

“Your phone is off. It’s why no one could reach you to warn you about?—”

Melina flinches, so I snap my mouth shut and swallow his name.

“Shit,” she whispers. She wriggles in my arms, so I ease her down and help her settle on the side of the bed. With her phone out, she powers it on, and when the screen lights up, one message after another pops up in rapid succession. She doesn’t bother to read them; she just hits Lake’s name and calls her.

My head is a jumbled mess as I listen to her tell Lake that she’s okay, that she’s home with me. I take a step back and thumb over my shoulder at the door, silently asking whether she wants privacy. She responds witha resolute shake of her head, so I pull out my phone and get to work dealing with the mess I made at the arena.

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