Page 65 of Volatile

She was blocking his view. He looked around her ample curves, keeping his eye on the hall. He also couldn’t see the drunk ass anymore, and he did not like that at all.

“Excuse me.” He gently pushed her aside, and she giggled. “I need to keep watch.”

She leaned over, making sure her assets were spilling out. “Well, if you’re ever in the mood for something else to watch, just ask for Tanya.” And with another wink, she headed to the next table.

Damn, is that Ivy?He’d missed her coming out. She was currently in the back where that guy had been, but where the fuck did he go? He needed to move closer.

Jon leaned against a wall that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned since its cigarette days. Ivy was mopping up the table with a rag, and his heart squeezed. Fuck, he missed her. Her jeans were tight, and her shirt was too low, but she was still showing off less than the other women working there. He had the feeling she wore the most she could get away with and nothing less, but he had the need to pound all these fucking men drooling over her. It didn’t matter that she wanted nothing to do with him anymore, he couldn’t tolerate this.

Ivy shook her head, and he followed the direction of her gaze. His temper burned hotter. She laughed, shrugging whomever away, but he could tell by her body—she was uneasy as hell. If she was expected to always be nice to the customers, to put up with any shit... Well, fuck that.

He went over, no longer caring about being inconspicuous. Her back was towards him, but he had a good view of the motherfucker trying to touch her. Tall, scraggly hair, pointed face like a fucking weasel.

Ivy stepped back, diverting her attention to a different table littered with empty glasses. That was her mistake. As soon as she stopped keeping him in check, the guy made his move, reaching for her. Jon was right there as soon as his hands made contact with her side, and swear to God... drunk or not, if that fuckup touched her breast he was getting his face bashed in.

“Jonathan, what...?”

Ivy looked at him in total confusion as the guy stumbled forward. “Hey, whaddya think you’re—”

Jon threw a hook to his jaw, shutting him up. He deserved that, and way more. There should not be any touching, period. Even the top of her hand was too fucking much.

“Oh my God. Jonathan, what the hell are you doing?”

The asshole lay on the floor with the rest of the filth. It didn’t take much to knock him out since he was half his size. Jon could do a lot of damage if he wanted to, and he fucking wanted to. The room went quiet for a whole few seconds before resuming its rowdiness. No one appeared to give a shit.

“You can’t just go around punching people!”

“Did you want him putting his hands on you?”

“Of course not!”

“Did you tell him to stop?”

“Well, yes, but....”

“Then he got off easy.”

A pot-bellied man wearing a shirt with a Rig’s logo ambled over. “What the fuck, Ivy? Was that a paying customer?”

Ivy looked dazed like she still hadn’t grasped a handle on what exactly happened. Unfortunately, Jon saw it all clearly, and it sickened him.

“You’re coming with me, Ivy,” Jon said.

“No, I’m not.”

“You’re getting docked for that, you know.” The man wiped snot off his nose, then pointed to the heap on the floor with the same finger.

Fuck this.The situation was fucked up, and Ivy didn’t belong there. With one swift move, Jon gripped her waist and flung her over his shoulder.

“Huh?” It must’ve taken her a second to get her bearings because right after she’d said it, she started flailing her arms and legs. “Put me down,” she hissed.

“No.”

As soon as Jon turned to walk out he heard, “Hey, where ya going? You’re still on the clock.”

“I said put me down.”

“And I said no.”

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