Page 75 of Legacy

She tugs again, and I’m already moving. At my side, I feel Havoc following, swearing under his breath. I’ve been fine with Steel’s no-fighting rule because the last placeI feel like being tonight is in a jail cell, but this asshole touched what’s mine.

He’s so enamored by Reagan that he doesn’t see us coming. Not until I grab his wrist hard enough to splinter his bones as I start to twist.

He releases Reagan on a yelp, and his eyes widen as he looks up at me.

“Jesse…”

I vaguely hear Reagan saying my name, but I don’t look at her. All I see is this fucker who put his hand on her while Havoc shields her from what’s happening.

“Did she say you could touch her?” I bend the guy’s wrist until he groans.

People are starting to notice, which is the only reason I haven’t broken every bone in his body yet. He’d scream, and it would draw attention. Just like people would notice if I pulled out my gun and painted the room with his brain matter.

“Sorry, I—”

I twist his wrist a little further, pulling him close so only he can hear me. Sweat drips down his forehead from the pain.

“That woman you put your hands on isn’t yours to touch. She isn’t yours to look at.” I’m seething, dots staining the corners of my vision. “Do you know how easily I could snap your wrist right now? Better yet, the number of ways I know how to snap your neck?”

His eyes widen, and his face pales. He looks from me to Havoc before focusing on the patches on our cuts.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. That guy gave me a hundred bucks to bring her over. Said he knew her.”

“What guy?” My teeth are on the verge of cracking; I’m clenching them so tight.

“I don’t know, man.” He scans a spot to his left. “He was right over there. Tall. Dark hair. Mole on his face.”

Fuck.

I pull my phone from my pocket with my free hand, not releasing his wrist, and flipping until I get to the picture in the email Ghost sent me.

“Yeah, him,” the guy confirms when I show him Lincoln’s picture.

I look over at Havoc, who nods. That answers that—Lincoln is no longer in the wind. He’s in Vegas. And there’s no way he ended up at this bar accidentally. Which means he’s been watching.

Scanning the room, I don’t see him. So he either offered the guy money to see if he could lure Reagan out, or he wanted to see who would come to her rescue. Either way, he’s gone.

Still, I notice Havoc texting on his phone, likely sending an order to the prospects outside to search for him.

“I swear that’s all it was,” the guy pleads, and I’m reminded he’s even there.

I take a step back, turning him toward Reagan. “Say it to her. Apologize.”

He looks at Reagan with tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Louder.” I twist his wrist, and he nearly passes out.

“I’m sorry!”

I release his wrist, and he grabs it in pain. But when he steps back, he runs into Ricky, who has come up behind him.

“ID,” I instruct Ricky.

He pulls the guy’s wallet from his pocket and hands it to me. I flip it open and hold it out for Havoc to take a picture.

“Keep your mouth shut, or this will be the least of your problems.”

His face unnaturally pales as he backs into the crowd.

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