Page 104 of The Darkest Note

Bobbing my head, I let my body move to the beat.

“That’s it, girl.” Babe encourages me when I start to feel a little stupid.

He does a Micheal Jackson move, complete with a leg kick.

I laugh and we come together again. Babe places his hand on my hips and it doesn’t feel uncomfortable.

I sway my body from side to side and he dances right against me, matching me rhythm for rhythm. When the beat gets faster, I move my fingers, mimicking the notes as if a piano’s in front of me.

Wow.

This is actually fun.

I turn around to tell him that when Babe’s face stiffens. He drops his hands from around my hips as if I’m poison.

Stunned, I look in the direction he’s staring in and see Dutch glaring at us. He’s got a cup of beer in his hand, but he’s not drinking from it. In fact, he looks a few seconds away from splashing it in our faces.

My fingers curl tighter around Babe’s hands. I raise my chin in defiance. “Don’t worry about him.”

“Sorry, sweetheart. You’re not worth getting mixed up with The Kings.”

Well damn him.

I refuse to stop enjoying myself even when Babe slinks away to go grind against some other brunette. My reason for coming to this party was to take a whole bunch of food back home to Viola but now? My mission has changed. I’m going to have a great time on this dance floor and I’m not going to leave until I’m good and ready.

I give Dutch my back and keep dancing. Whether I look crazy or not dancing by myself, I don’t care. Music is in my blood and I might not be the greatest dancer in the world, but I understand rhythm and I understand a brush off when I see one. I hope Dutch does too.

I hear his heavy footsteps padding toward me even above the music. My body coils with tension as I imagine him glaring a hole in my back.

Everyone in the crowd backs away, watching and whispering. I stop dancing as exuberantly because I’m pretty sure I look like an idiot at this point.

Dutch bends over and whispers in my ear, “Come with me.”

Heat spreads up my neck and face. I probably look redder than a tomato right now.

We’re close. Way too close. My senses are overwhelmed by him. The subtle spice in his cologne, the heat of his body, the sound of his gravelly voice—it all goes straight to my chest.

The music from the speakers shifts to a souls song and I feel the tension in Dutch’s body tighten.

He grabs my arm. “That’s not a request, Brahms.’

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m busy. So screw off.”

Gasps go up from the crowd.

I glance up and see Dutch clenching his jaw. He nods once and marches back to where he was standing. His brothers are there, both of them watching with conflicted expressions.

Dutch shoves his cup at Zane. When he turns around and faces me, his expression is thunderous. I shiver in fear. He lookspissed.

My alarm bells start ringing and I back up a step.

Dutch goes straight for me.

My heart bucks when I read his intentions.

“Don’t you dare, Dutch.”

But I might as well have saved my breath. The big oaf catches me by the arms and bends at the knees. I’m up and over his shoulder in less than a blink. The party goes completely silent except for the singer crooning from the speakers.

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