Page 23 of Tight End

He gives her an appraising look as he passes.

I shove my way forward and just as I’m about to grab his arm, something hard crashes against my left shoulder. Stumbling sideways from the force, I see a huge bald guy in a leather cut push the blonde aside and give Lane a hard shove into a half wall.

Lane and I are pretty big guys but this one is twice our size, covered in tattoos and piercings. Two others who look almost exactly like him flank him on both sides.

He moves toward Lane. “I saw you give my girl the eye. She’s mine, prick. I don’t give a fuck that you’re a rock star. I’m gonna fuck your shit up so that you won’t be able to play the drums for the rest of your fucking life.”

I flex my ringed fingers before balling them intotight fists, rage coursing through me. The guy takes a punch and Lane ducks out of the way. But he doesn’t escape the second one and the guy gets a clear shot to his nose. He staggers sideways, bringing his hand to his bloodied face.

He looks at me and I give him a slight nod.

“Hey,” I yell at the bald guy, edging around people to get to him. I give my neck a good crack, a slow smile lifting my lips.

“You messed with the wrong fucking crew tonight, dick.”

The guy laughs. “Fucking no talent prick. I’m supposed to be afraid of you?”

“Oh fuck yeah. And you know why?” My smile widens. “Two reasons. One, you touched my brother. And two, I don’t give a flying fuck about consequences.Prick.”

Chapter 9

Sam

Shouts and screams erupt outside the VIP area, drowning out the music. One of the security guys with the band pushes past us and shoves his way through the crowd in the direction Lane Maxwell went only a few minutes earlier. Jase and Lucas follow.

I turn to Chase.

“Stay here. I don’t know what’s going on out there but I’m going with Jase and Lucas.”

Chase’s eyes flash with anger. “I’m not made of glass, Sam. I’m going if you are.”

“Look, this isn’t exactly your crowd, okay? I’m used to huge guys rushing at me. It’s been a few years for you.” I press a hand against his chest. “Stay. I’m serious.”

I run after Jase and Lucas and stop short right before the shit show taking place on the makeshift dance floor.

Lane and Brixton are in the middle of a biker gang, and if I’m being honest, the bikers aren’t doing too well against the rockers.

The bouncers from the front door are pulling the guysapart. Band security is getting in on the action, too. Lane’s nose is bleeding, not that it slows him down at all. Brixton sidesteps one of the bouncers and lunges for a big bald guy, knocking him backward into a group of people shining phones on the scene. He lands on top of the guy and swings his fists at the guy’s face and gut.

“Never fucking lay a finger on one of my friends again,” he yells.

Jase and Lucas groan, probably seeing the exact same thing I do. And they’re no strangers to being caught on video while brawling. Although theirs was a case of self-defense.

I narrow my eyes at Brixton.

The guy was ready to snap before Lane showed up.

Did he unleash all that rage on these guys just because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time?

A nagging feeling in my gut tells me that’s a very good possibility.

“We need to get them out of here,” Jase says, edging through the people surrounding them. He heads for Lane.

I head for Brixton.

He’s still on top of the bald guy, now his fists are clenching the sides of the guy’s cut and he’s pulled him to a seated position. Blood pours from the guy’s nose and Brixton’s eyes have taken on a psycho glimmer.

I grab his arm and pull him backward. “You’ve got to get out of here now. There are phones everywhere.”

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