I freeze, then curl my fists tightly at my side and turn my head.
Shit. What are they doing here?
Phoebe's standing near the door with Willow, her eyes wide in horror, her face pale. Willow has her arm around her waist. Paisley's standing on the other side of her.
Great, now my sisters know about us.
"Don't. Please stop," Phoebe begs again.
Mason steps beside me, suggesting, "I think that's enough now."
"I've got the rest of this," Jagger claims, and grabs Lance's arms.
"She's mine," Lance mutters, his cheek swelling so badly his right eye's shut.
I squeeze my fists again.
Mason grabs my arm, murmuring, "Enough. Easy, bro," as he nods at the women. Then to Jagger he orders, "Get him out of here."
Jagger drags Lance toward the back exit.
The patrons step aside, making an aisleway. They cheer as Jagger and Lance pass them.
I don't move.
"Alexander, go take care of business," Mason commands.
I glance over at Phoebe. The blood's drained from her cheeks. Worry fills her expression.
I need to get her out of here.
I take a deep breath before I make my way across the bar to her.
"Let's go," I say to Phoebe.
She doesn't move.
My sisters stay planted as well.
"Willow, step aside," I demand.
She shakes her head at me but steps back.
I put my arm around Phoebe's waist, leading her out of the bar and to my truck.
"Alexander," she says, but I don't answer.
I open the passenger door, commanding, "Get in."
She obeys.
I shut the door and go to the driver's side, sliding inside and trying to calm my anger. I start the truck and veer onto the road, gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turn white.
"Alexander—"
"I'm not ready to talk yet," I tell her, trying to calm down. I'm still pissed Lance is in town, waving her photo around the place as if he somehow has a claim to her. He acted like she was his and not mine. And I heard her tell him to leave her alone, so he's got a lot of balls doing that in my town.
I'm not mad at Phoebe. Well, I tell myself I'm not, but part of me is upset with her.