Page 16 of Whirlwind

“Watch it, bitch!” a tall, tattooed guy yelled at her.

“Fuck off!” she yelled back in his face.

Wes swerved toward the heaving crowd. “What the hell?”

“It’s Violet!” I ran.

One biker security guard left the front door and stalked into the thick of the crowd. “Break it up, let’s go, or you’re all going home. Let’s go!” He hoisted Violet up with one hand, and with his other shoved at a guy who got in his way. Her hair flying, Violet’s face was etched with rage. Kicking and clawing, she twisted in the biker’s hold.

“Cut it the fuck out!” the biker shook her. “Hey, bitch!”

She shoved back at him, slapping at his chest. “Let me go, dammit!”

I shoved through the throng. “Hey! Let her go! Let her go now!”

Pain exploded across my face, shooting up over my cheekbone to my eye. My breath cut, and I staggered against a wave of bodies, my eyes blinking through the blur.

“Don’t look at me, man,” the biker’s voice bellowed at me. “This stupid bitch punched you!”

“Don’t call me a bitch!”

“Bear, I got her.” His voice firm, Wes stood alongside me. He knew the biker. “Let her go, man.”

“Get her the fuck out of here, Wes.” He leaned closer into Wes and said something I couldn’t hear. Shoving in front of Wes, I grabbed Violet.

She fell into me, her eyes flashing. Those kind of green, kind of brown, kind of gold eyes I’d never forgotten from that night. We both took in an audible breath, and something inside my chest twinged, swirled. Stopped.

“Oh. Oh shit. Oh shit,” she murmured, stiffening in my grasp.

The crowd made way for us to pass.

Wes caught up to us. “You okay, Violet? We were just on our way in. Heard shouting, and Beck saw you.”

Her gaze darted up at me, and she pressed her lips together. She had smoky, dramatic makeup on, but it wasn’t overdone. She looked amazing. “Beck…” She stiffened in my hold. “Please put me down. You don’t have to—”

I held onto her and kept walking. We got to my bike, and I put her down, gripping her arm as she found her balance on these amazing, stiletto-heeled, black leather boots. Then there was her mini-skirt. Her legs were longer than I remembered. She was all curves and lean muscle.

Heat flared over my skin, and she let go of my hand. “Thank you,” she murmured, her cheeks flushed, her hands smoothing down that skirt.

“Woman, your right hook landed on Beck’s face.” Wes gripped my jaw and inspected my face. “Shit, it’s bruising up fast.”

Violet’s eyes blazed. “Oh my God. I punched you? That was you?”

“That was me.”

“He needs ice,” said Wes.

“Shit, I didn’t mean to. Beck, I’m so sorry. I—”

“It’s all right, Violet,” I said.

“No, no, it’s not. I was eager to get the hell out of there and someone pushed me, I pushed back, and, then I felt a hand on my ass, and I lost it. I’m so sorry.” She studied my face. “You need ice and ibuprofen. Right now.”

“We can go through the back door of the Tingle to the office,” Wes said. “Come on.”

“Hell no, I’m not going back in there,” muttered Violet.

Wes gestured back at the Tingle. “To the office where—”

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