Page 21 of Hidden Shadows
Nixon’s restraint snapped and he was across the room in a second. There was a faint protest from the woman behind him, but he ignored it.
The second he reached the bar, he grabbed Rad’s arm and pulled it away.
Rad stood, face red. “Hey, what are you—”
“When a woman pushes you away, you fucking shift back, asshole.” He got so close that he could see every line on the guy’s face.
Rad’s eyes widened. “I didn’t—”
“Youdid. If I catch you doing it again, I’ll put you on the floor. Understand?”
The man’s chest rose and fell, the red stain in his cheeks darkening.
“I said, do you understand?” Nixon’s voice was louder now, even as he lowered his head a fraction.
Soft fingers touched his elbow. “Nixon—”
“I understand,” Rad said, his tone clipped.
“Good.” He turned and grabbed Finley’s clutch and jacket from the bar, then slipped his fingers around her wrist. “We’re leaving.”
He started moving, the click of her heels trailing beside him.
He almost expected Rad to stop them. Tug her arm. Maybe step in front of them. Nixon almostwantedhim to because then he’d have a reason to follow through on his threat and put a fist in his face.
But the asshole remained where he was. Maybe he was smarter than Nixon thought.
When he reached the elevator, he stabbed the button. It opened and he pulled her inside.
He felt her gaze on him the entire way up, like she was trying to assess his mood. It was dark, and that darkness just made him fucking angry. He shouldn’t be so attached to her. He shouldn’t be letting the asshole who’d touched her affect him so much.
It was only once they were in his room that he finally released her wrist and opened the connecting door. “Go.”
When she didn’t, his voice rose. “Finley,go.”
She didn’t. She stepped closer. “Are you okay?”
No, he wasn’t. And he hated that. He hated this connection he felt to her.
He dropped the clutch and jacket onto the desk, then moved over to the bar and poured himself a shot of whiskey. He needed hard liquor and he needed it now. He needed the burn. The fire in his gut.
“Nixon—”
“He was all over you, Finley. What would you have done if I wasn’t there?”
“I would have moved away from him.” Her head tilted. “Nixon, it was just a touch on the back.”
“With an asshole like that, it’s neverjustanything.” He downed the whiskey. “For him, it’s about sex. It’s about intimacy. It’s one step closer to getting you into bed.”
“Like I said, I’d have stepped away from him. If you hadn’t stepped in—”
“He would have ignored you. Maybe kissed you.”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Yes.” He turned to look at her, mood dark. “If he had kissed you, I would have broken his jaw, and not a single part of me would have felt bad about that.”
Her lips parted, a puff of air escaping with her gasp. “Why would you do that?”
