Page 33 of Breaking You Open

“You’re here,” Sparrow says. “You’d protect me.”

“I wasn’t there when you were walking on the side of the road.” I lean closer to him, catching a whiff of his sweet scent. “Is this going to become a habit? Showing up here unannounced and distracting me from work?”

“I won’t be in the way, I promise.” He points to Ravi, who’s taking an order for Guinness from a big trucker-looking guy in his midthirties. “I can help. I can do what he’s doing.”

“You’re underage.”

“I didn’t know biker gangs cared that much about the law.” Sparrow rustles his arm, and I realize I still haven’t let go of him.

I groan and run a hand through my beard. I should punish him for this. I should bend him over the bar top and spank his insubordinate little ass. I know how to punish people with far worse methods, but when I imagine using those on Sparrow, my whole being clenches up and renders me unable to breathe.

Shaking myself out of my thoughts, I point to a table near the bar. “Sit there and wait for me to finish.”

“Okay.” Sparrow just seems happy I haven’t forced him to leave. He shuffles over to the table and continues to nurse his beer as if it’s a piping hot mug of tea, which is good, I suppose; he’ll hardly get drunk at this rate.

An hour passes without remark. No one approaches him, but he sends some curious looks around now and again, which annoys me to no end.

Maurice orders another beer and leans over the bar top with a wink. “Keep an eye on that one,” he says, jerking his head toward Sparrow. “Lots of guys here would love to turn him out, and I know you don’t like people touching what’s yours.”

“He’s not mine.” The words feel wrong as soon as I’ve said them, and something dark and possessive stirs in their wake.

Maurice smirks. “I saw the way you were touching him. If that’s not claiming what’s yours, I don’t know what is.” He leans his back against the bar and stares unabashedly at Sparrow. “So you fuck him yet?”

“What?” I growl. “No.” Why does everyone keep asking that? I wipe a glass and set it aside with more force than necessary. “He’s a kid.”

“Hasn’t stopped you before,” Maurice says. “Wasn’t that Antler kid a little young for you too?”

“Antler kid?” I ask.

“Joshua told me about you trying to get with someone a while back.”

“Oh,” I mutter. He has to mean that green-eyed brat.

“Didn’t work out,” Maurice drawls. “This one seems more willing though.” He waves his beer glass toward Sparrow, who’s got his eyes on the ongoing pool game a few feet away from him.

Oh, he’s willing all right. Too willing.

“Just remember what I told you,” Maurice says. “If you don’t take him, someone else will.”

He’s right, of course. I need to keep Sparrow safe. In this town, he’s helpless, and if I hadn’t scooped him up, someone else would have.

“Speaking of Joshua,” Maurice says. “I’m thinking of patching him in.”

I tear my gaze from Sparrow. “What? He’s a fucking idiot.”

“He’s good with importing, which is what we need. What if everyone was like you, huh? We wouldn’t have any customers left.”

I grimace but keep the worst of my displeasure off my face. “Do what you wish. It’s not like I can stop you.”

“That’s right,” Maurice says, sipping his beer. “I still haven’t forgotten your negligence at that party, you know.”

“Well, how do I make it up to you?”

“Start by talking with more respect, for one. Mellow down a bit. Getting laid might help. Been a while for you, hasn’t it?”

“Don’t talk about shit you don’t know about.”

But Mauricedoesknow. He knows everything. He knows about Justin. He knows of my rage, my sickness, the monster lurking within. He of all people should know I can’t take Sparrow under my wing; he of all people should know I can’t let myself have him.

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