Page 30 of Tight End

A fierce thundering in my chest intensifies as we move toward the group of beefy dudes hunched over in their leather cuts.

Iron Vipers MC.

This is way closer toSons of Anarchythan I’d like to admit.

My weapon is a microphone.

Theirs?

Let’s just say I’d like to leave here before I can find out.

Another pain zings my left arm when I run my finger over the top of a waiting room chair with a torn seam. I stop, my eyes locked on the olive green pleather trim.

Two years ago, it had just been a tiny nick in the fabric. I remember tugging at it while I waited for news about Davis, and how I left a gaping hole in the covering.

Much like the void left in my soul.

A rush of breath expels from my lungs when I sink into the chair. Blood rushes between my ears, my ears ringing so furiously, I almost miss Sam’s question.

His voice is muffled, like I’m hearing it underwater.

Sam dips his head low, his lips brushing against my ear. A chill slips down my spine. “Are you okay?”

I shake my head, trying to pull in oxygen but my throat is so damn tight.

“They’re coming over here. Get the fuck out of the chair,” he hisses.

“You boys come down here to clear your conscience?” A big guy with a septum piercing and a long, scraggly beard stomps his black booted feet across the floor as he heads toward us. “Or are you just plain fucking stupid with a death wish? Because that’s what you’re gonna get by showing up here.Death.”

I shoot up from the chair, all the fury over losing Davis crashing over me like a monsoon. The water has cleared and I hear each word, clear as fucking day.

“Your pal is lying back there because he picked on the wrong guy,” I growl, closing the space between us.

Three other guys, equally large and menacing, slowly walk in our direction. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Mike and Steve move closer but I wave them away.

I’m not finished with these assholes yet.

“Maybe he’s used to guys who are fucking pussies, but this time, he screwed himself.” Pulling myself to my full height, which is a few inches shorter than Beard, I lean in and hiss, “Because I’m no pussy. And I don’t give a flying fuck what the hell happens to him.”

“Jesus Christ,” Sam mutters behind me.

Shock settles into Beard’s pissed-off expression and then it morphs into pure ire. “I’m gonna end you, son. So say your fucking prayers.”

He reaches for my shirt and I sweep my arm around his, twisting it tight as he lets out a loud groan.

“Where the hell did you guys learn to fight?” I scoff and push him away. Security swoops in, breaking up what was about to erupt. Sam grabs me by the arm and tugs me away.

“You’re making this worse for everyone.”

I shake off his hand. “Are you worried about yourself, Sammy? Huh? What people will say about you being with someone who doesn’t give a damn about consequences? Whatthey’ll think about youdatingsomeone who’s as unhinged and deranged as I am?”

My sharp laugh swallows the muffled voices around us.

I turn to glare at the bikers, who’ve now multiplied.

“Don’t do it,” Sam hisses. “And keep your damn mouth shut. Let’s just go to the nurses’ station, make it look like you care about more than getting your ass kicked.”

My lips pull together in a tight line. Sam gives me a little shove forward and he moves to my other side, blocking me from the pissed-off bikers. Holding me tight against him, he moves me away from the guys and toward the desk.

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