Page 7 of Bad Men

He was back on his feet, lip split, blood dribbling down his chin to darken his beard. There was murder and bloodlust in his eyes as he rounded on me.

I was ready for him.

“Don’t.” The warning was followed by the familiar crack of a gun being cocked.

Someone turned the music off. A hush fell over the bar. All eyes watched as Nero leveled his weapon to the man’s chest.

The guy, vaguely familiar now that I could see his face properly, swiped a meaty fist over the blood raining down his chin. His dark eyes jumped from me to Nero, then down at the gun. I could see the anger receding as he calculated his next move.

“Nero,” he said at last. “She with you?”

The she in question stood just over Nero’s shoulder, brown eyes wide. She hadn’t said anything, but she didn’t seem to be on the verge of crying or screaming.

“She’s off limits,” was all Nero said.

The guy spat a glob of red slime onto the hardwood next to his own filthy boots. “She needs to be taught respect.”

“I don’t respect little boys who talk to women like that,” Mia shot back before Nero could open his mouth.

I mashed my lips together, fighting against the smirk threatening to take over. The guy wasn’t so amused.

He made as if to start for her only to come up against Nero’s barrel and the cold, hard steel in the other man’s eyes.

“I will kill you,” Nero warned with a solemn quietness that sent a chill down my spine.

The guy put both hands up, one smeared with his blood, and took several steps back. He came up against the bar.

Nero’s fierce, cold gaze shifted a fraction to meet mine in the briefest flick. “Take Mia.”

I didn’t wait.

I didn’t ask questions.

I stalked to where she stood behind him and captured her hand. I was grateful she didn’t fight me when I hauled her in the direction of the door. She started to stop, to turn.

“Wait. Nero…” she protested.

“I’m here.” Nero appeared on her other side with unhurried strides, gun tucked back in the waistband of his jeans.

His palm found the small of her back and propelled her the rest of the way over the threshold and out into the sweltering night.

In the stillness of the street, she broke away and turned to face us.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she said, small hands going to her waist.

I blinked at the accusation and lack of gratitude. “Maybe you missed it, but he was ready to break your pretty, little jaw.”

The smooth column of her throat muscles worked in a rapid swallow. “I’m sure someone—”

“No one,” I interrupted sharply, “no one would have helped you. This isn’t that kind of place, Mia. What the fuck are you doing here?”

To her credit, she attempted to hold my gaze. It was fleeting, but she hung on for a full two seconds before dropping hers to the ground between our feet. She drew in a breath that plumped her breasts high over the edge of her collar. I hadn’t been watching, but it was hard to miss. She raised a hand and fanned herself, but all I saw was the rapid rise and fall of her chest.

She was wearing the same dress she’d had on earlier that afternoon, the thin one that did nothing to conceal the sharp points of her nipples or the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra. The fabric strained over her breasts, not enough to make the buttons running down the front gap, but enough to make a man want to set them free in his hands. Her hair was piled on the top of her head in a messy knot that seemed pointless when tendrils had slipped lose around her face. Her skin glistened with perspiration that brightened the color in her cheeks and drew attention to the tiny droplet of sweat clinging to the hollow of her throat. It quivered when she swallowed.

“It’s so hot...” she gasped instead, completely ignoring my question. “I don’t understand how it can be so…” She pinched the fabric of her dress, right where the button was already straining for all it was worth to stay together and flapped it rapidly, giving us teasing peeks of her cleavage. “It was hotter in there than it is out here! How are those people not dying?”

“Half of them are too drunk to notice,” I replied.

---