Page 77 of Ace of Spades
“Come on, tiny little shorts like those are just begging for attention,” the guy directly behind us says, their laughter grating on my bones as I spin around before I even realize what I’m doing.
“You’re lucky I don’t break your filthy fucking hand for touching my friend,” I tell him, lifting my chin and trying to make myself appear tougher than I actually feel.
“Oooo,” he says, looking back at his friends before turning back to me and taking a step closer. It takes everything in me not to take a step back, holding my place in front of Dakota. “Looks like we’ve got a big dog over here, guys. Buckle bunnies sure are getting real mouthy these days.”
“You really woke up and chose insecurity today, huh?”
His eyes darken, jaw clenching as his friends burst out in laughter behind him. Turns out the prick must not find me as amusing as his buddies do.
“Oh, don’t you worry. I’ll fuck that little attitude right out of you, sweetheart.”
“There’s only one person who gets to do that, and it sure as hell isn’t you,” a familiar voice cuts through the air, relief washing over me as I turn to find Weston and Chance approaching, their chaps slung over their shoulders and murderous expressions on their faces.
“Well, if it isn’t Weston Langford,” the prick scoffs, his attention shifting behind us. “I’ve heard you liked to stick your dick in just about anything, didn’t think that raging bitch was your type though. You might want to consider putting a muzzle on this one.”
“Don’t get butthurt just because you don’t have what it takes to handle a real cowgirl, Tag. Your riding speaks for itself, maybe settle for something a bit gentler if you want to make yourself feel like a real cowboy.”
The prick—Tag—shifts in place, the vein bulging in his neck as Chance and Weston come to stand at our side, the feeling of Wes’s presence calming my racing pulse.
“You okay?” he asks us, not taking his eyes off the group.
“I’m fine. This prick just thought it would be cute to grab your sister’s ass. And they say chivalry is dead,” I snide.
“Is that right?” Weston asks, a dangerous edge to his tone as his fists clench, a wave of tension coiling through the group.
“Maybe teach your sister that she shouldn’t be advertising the goods if she doesn’t want the attention. I mean, look at her—practically begging for it.”
Chance lunges forward but is stopped by Weston, the latter’s arm holding him back before speaking, his voice a deadly calm.
“She can dress however she wants because I’m confident in my fighting abilities. Can you say the same?”
“You know, maybe I’ll just take a turn with both of them after I send you to the hospital, Langford. Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle,” Tag says, hammering the nail in the coffin.
Madness erupts, Weston’s fist flying as it slams into Tag’s nose, a violent crunch sounding in the air as Chance swings at one of the other two.
“Goddammit,” I mutter, pulling Dakota back as the five of them end up on the ground, fists swinging in every direction.
I pull my phone out of my pocket, my fingers shaking as I type in Rafe’s name, hitting the call button. It rings twice before picking up.
“Sup?”
“Hey, you guys busy?” I ask.
“Not particularly. Why, what's up?”
“The guys are in a fight.”
“Oh, cool. Who’s winning?” he asks.
I observe the scene unfolding in front of me.
“Ours, I think?”
A warm feeling floods my chest at my use of the wordours.
Dammit, Hailey–not the time!
“Where at?”
