I’ve felt anger before. Hell, I’ve felt rage, but never this bottomless fury that overtook my soul when I saw Lexi’s battered face.
The concept that this man dared to lay his hands on her in anger… let’s just say he’ll be lucky to walk out of the gallery on his own two feet.
“Is this the same prick?” Nate questions, his mouth set in a thin line. Nate and I grew up together, and we never stopped having each other’s back. Like me, he’s a bit notorious for his reputation as a Casanova, but he’s a decent man.
A man who can’t stand the idea of a woman getting a beat down at the hands of someone bigger and stronger.
“Different guy.”
Nate shakes his head. “You need to hire a bodyguard for her. Is she okay?”
“She will be.”
He reads my anger. He knows it well, after so many years together. “Are you cool? I get wanting to pound his face into the ground, but I need to know you’re going to keep it together.”
“I got it, Nate. Just give me a few minutes alone with the asshole.”
Even though it’s only about twenty blocks to the gallery, it takes forever. I’m a bundle of nerves, my foot tapping ceaselessly against the floorboard as I crack my knuckles, the image of Lexi’s bruised and bloodied face a permanent tattoo in my brain.
I want to kill him. That’s part of the reason I brought my boys with me. It’s not that I fear taking him on myself. I fear not being able to stop once I start.
He hurt my Lexi, a woman half his size. I don’t give a shit what reasons he has to justify his actions.
Damian won’t be feeling such bravado once I’m through with him.
And if it involved Gianni inanyway, I’m taking him down, too.
The gallery is dim when we roll up. Fucking figures. Then I catch sight of a man moving around inside, schlepping boxes and canvases from one side of the gallery to the other.
Gianni. Maybe he’ll have some answers. He damn well better.
He jumps when I bang the window with my fist, his expression curious as he opens the door. “Sam? What are you doing here? You missed the show. It just ended.”
“Where’s Damian?” I grit out, glowering at the gallery owner.
He shifts his weight, uncomfortable under my stare. Get used to it, buddy.
“The bar down the street, I think. He and a couple of his friends headed down there with a few women they picked up this evening. Not the best move, if you ask me.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Sam, are you okay?”
“Answer the question.”
“Lexi was here earlier, to support him. She told me they had been on a few dates, so it shocked me to see him cozying up to some blonde. Then again, Lexi disappeared. Didn’t even say goodbye, which seems out of character for her. Damian claimed she got angry about his flirtatious sales tactics and ran off. Something isn’t adding up, though.”
“It wouldn’t, because Damian is lying. Lexi did run off earlier. She ran to my hotel, in the pouring rain. She was running away from Damian.” I motion to the framed pictures behind Gianni. “Is this his shit?”
“Yes. I’m helping him out. He hurt his hand somehow.” Gianni’s dark eyes narrow as he realizes the truth. “Don’t tell me that he raised a hand to Lexi.”
I crack my knuckles, my fists desperate to see some action. “He beat the shit out of her. She got to me, bleeding and damn near frozen from the rain. I’m here to have a little chat with him. So, point me in the direction of the bar.”
“I’ll do better than that. I’ll take you there myself.”
Gianni leads our group to a local watering hole further down the block. It’s a nondescript building that is about to see a hell of a lot of action. Gianni points out Damian, huddled into a back booth with a few equally soused women.
Stomping toward them, I slam the table with my fists, shocking the hell out of their little party.