“You drug women,” I bark straight into his face. “I’m sure you rape them too.”

  He doesn’t even recoil as his top lip curls. We stare at each other, a crowd around us, people murmuring to one another, no doubt thinking either I’m crazy or he is.

  “Lying cunt,” he snaps and leans forward, bringing his face and beer-laden breath closer. “I’m going to teach you a lesson about minding your own damn business.”

  “Fuck off, loser!” I yell back and quickly lift my leg, ready to knee him in the balls. But to my shock, he’s expecting it, grabbing on to my thigh with one hand and backhanding me with the other.

  Pain shoots across my face from my cheek to my ear, and I hear nothing but the ringing of a weird, off-key bell somewhere deep inside my head. I’m momentarily blinded by the impact, something I’ve never experienced before. Luna and Gigi have smacked me plenty of times in my life when we were pissed or playing, but never has a blow landed with such force to render me fucking stupid with pain.

  I shake my head, trying to see straight and find my bearings, when Luna rushes forward, but she is quickly stopped by an arm around her waist. I watch in horror as she’s hauled backward, and her body is replaced by a bigger one.

  “You’re going to pay for that one, motherfucker,” a man says, going after the guy who just about laid me out. “You touched the wrong woman, and I’m about to make you bleed.”

  I try so hard to focus, but my vision is blurred and doubled. But I know the voice, having heard it less than an hour ago, warning me about how my mouth could get me into trouble if I weren’t careful.

  Dylan rushes forward, clocking the dickhead with an upper cut to the chin, and jumps on him as they both tumble to the ground.

  “Well, fuck me,” Luna whispers, watching Dylan as he beats the living hell out of the asshole for laying his hands on me. “That’s hot.”

  “Luna,” I warn because now isn’t the time, and while part of me thinks it’s hot, I’m embarrassed and pissed that I needed the rescue, and from none other than Dylan Walsh.

  Not only am I going to have a bruise on my face, my ego won’t quickly recover from this evening either.

  8

  Dylan

  “You. Do. Not. Put. Your. Hands. On. Women.” After each word, I land another blow to the asshole on the ground as he tries to block my shots but loses.

  “Walsh, you’re going to kill the guy.”

  “Dylan, stop.”

  People all around me, many of whom I don’t know or remember, are yelling and pawing at my back, but I’m so in the zone, they barely register.

  “Dylan, please…stop!” Rosie’s voice is clear as day as her face comes into focus, kneeling near the top of the guy’s head before I can land another punch.

  I glance up, and my gaze meets hers, conveying hurt, anger, and fear in her blue eyes.

  Her fear strikes me square in the gut as hard as the beating I’ve given the guy trapped under my body weight.

  “Don’t do this,” she says, reaching out and placing her hand on my face the moment I stop the assault. “You’re going to kill him.”

  “Good,” I tell her between labored breaths, anger coursing through me like hot lava. “He deserves—”

  “I know,” she interrupts me. “But I think he’s paid enough for now. Let the law deal with him. I mean, look at him.” She waves her hand toward him.

  I rest back on my heels, taking in her already-bruised face where the dickhead landed the blow.

  “Look at him, Dylan. Really look,” she repeats the order.

  I peer down, seeing blood dripping from his nose and mouth and his face battered to the point that he won’t be recognizable soon. Bastard deserves every bit of what I’ve given him so far and so much more. “He’s looking pretty damn good to me.”

  She frowns and swipes her finger across my skin in a calming motion, something that’s never worked on me before. “Come on. You’ve done enough. He’ll think twice before he touches another woman.”

  “Men like him don’t learn as long as they’re breathing,” I tell her, all too familiar with his type.

  “Please,” she begs me, sliding her hand down my arm to my wrist and giving me a slight tug. “Take me home. I need ice or something for my face.”

  Take her home? I know she’s using it as a ruse to get me out of here and away from him, and it’s working.

  My eyes wander over her soft features and the discoloration that’ll temporarily mar her beauty. I lift my hand, cupping her jaw gently, and slide my finger along the underside of her cheek.

  She hisses, quickly biting down on her lip to stop herself from crying out at the lightest touch.

  “I’m sorry, baby. He just… I just…”

  “I know,” she says, her eyes filled with tears, making my chest tighten and my anger start to build once more.

  “Cops are coming,” someone yells, and Rosie’s eyes immediately widen, somehow becoming even more afraid than before.

  “We have to go,” she pleads, pulling on my arm harder as she tries to get me to move.

  The world around us slowly comes back into focus.

  The noise. The fire. The crowd.

  People are scattering, running toward their vehicles, wanting to be nowhere around when the cops get here.

  “Please,” she begs again when I don’t move right away.

  I’ve been so consumed by my rage, I stopped thinking about anyone and anything else except making the guy bleed. But looking at Rosie’s face, seeing the fear and pain that not only he put there, but I’m keeping there, has my ass up and off the ground a split second later.

  I interlock our hands as we move toward the line of cars and bikes, all jammed in the same small stretch of gravel road.

  Luna’s with us, hustling on Rosie’s other side through the darkness and chaos. “Go with him!” she yells at Rosie as our feet finally touch rock. “Meet me at home.”

  “What? No,” Rosie replies. “I want…”

  Luna and Rosie halt, but I take a few steps before my feet stop moving, and I turn to watch them.

  Luna grabs on to Rosie’s hands and stares at her mirrored reflection in her sister’s face. “Go with him, Ro. He needs you more than me, and you need him.”

  I don’t argue about who needs whom. There’s no time. And if I’m honest, I want her with me and nowhere else. Although I don’t know Luna from the next broad, she’s at least talking sense.

  They stare at each other for a few seconds, no more words passing between them, but they’re still communicating in some weird staredown.

  “Fine,” Rosie finally concedes. “I’ll go with him.” She pushes her sister away, releasing her hands, and glances toward the horizon as it lights up in red and blue.

  I don’t say anything as I latch back on to Rosie’s hand, hauling her ass toward my bike. Spending the night in jail isn’t on my wish list for tonight. I’m not going to stick around to file a report and tell the cops why I bashed the guy’s face in. With no one else here and him unconscious and bleeding, he isn’t going to be talking anytime soon either.

  I’ll deal with the consequences later. It wouldn’t be my first time getting fingerprinted and probably wouldn’t be my last, but it isn’t happening tonight if I can do anything about it.

  We pick up the pace, making it to my bike a few seconds later, and I climb on, pulling Rosie’s arm and helping her onto the back. She slides in behind me, the warmth of her body enveloping me as her thighs and arms tighten around me.

  I turn the key in the ignition and give her hand a quick pat, followed by a squeeze from her before I take off, leaving a trail of dirt and gravel flying through the air where we’d once been.

  I don’t even know where I’m going, but I don’t care. I’m only focused on getting as far away from the Caves and the cops as humanly possible while keeping Rosie safe and on the back of my bike.

  She isn’t fazed by my speed as everything melts away besides her body molded around mine. I don’t relax until her uninjured cheek touches my back, resting against my T-shirt.

  Luna pulls up beside us, motioning for me to follow her, and I do without any hesitation. It’s as if I’m in a tunnel with one purpose…get Rosie home.

  The only things I feel are the wind on my face and the weighted warmth of her pressed against me. The world around us ceases to exist, and nothing else matters except this moment.

  In what feels like a blink of an eye, we’re in their apartment, with Rosie on the couch, barely speaking and staring at the carpet as if it holds some key to the mysteries of life.

  “I’ll grab some ice,” Luna says, looking at her sister and me, unsure of what the hell to do.

  “Sit,” I tell her, moving off the couch and pointing to where my ass just was. “Lemme handle it.”

  “But you don’t…”

  “Babe,” I say, cocking my head. “I don’t, but I will. Just sit your ass down and be with your sister. I’m sure I’ve nursed more bruised faces than you have. I know what I’m doing.”

  “Well, I…” she starts to say, but she quickly snaps her mouth shut and nods at me. She goes to the couch, sitting down next to Rosie, and takes one of her hands in hers, whispering softly.

  As I flip on the light in the kitchen, I finally realize the aftermath of the ass-beating I gave the guy. My hands are covered in blood that isn’t my own, and my scarred knuckles have fresh shallow cuts on them.

  I smile as I remember, and I know the guy’s face is in way worse shape than my hands. Making quick work, I wash my hands, removing any traces of what happened earlier besides the gashes in my skin that have already stopped bleeding.

  I open their freezer and grab a bag of frozen veggies, always preferring it to straight-up ice for my wounds. When I make my way back to the living room, Luna’s still whispering at Rosie’s side.

  Luna glances up, meeting my gaze, and I tick my head to the side, telling her as subtly as possible to get lost. Luna takes the hint, moving off the couch as soon as I kneel in front of Rosie, filling her line of sight with only me.

  “Babe, I’m going to be gentle,” I say softly, “but this is going to sting a little at first.”

  Rosie stares at me, not saying anything and not even blinking a response. When she doesn’t protest, I rest one hand on her knee and lift the bag to her cheek. She winces at the contact, jerking her head back for a second before melting into the coolness.

  “You good?” I ask, ignoring the cold against my palm and concentrating on her face and her facial expression.

  “A little better,” she whispers.

  I move my thumb against her bare skin, relishing the softness and the warmth. “Good, Ro.”

  She closes her eyes, tilting her head to take in more of the cold. “Thank you.”

  “Babe, no thanks needed. We just need to keep that cheek from swelling any more than it already has. Tomorrow, you’re going to have one helluva bruise too.”

  Her eyes snap open and widen. “Shit,” she bites out like she’s suddenly back to reality instead of being inside her head. “This is bad. So bad.”

  I give her a gentle smile, still stroking her knee softly, glad she hasn’t pushed me away. “I’ve seen worse. It’ll heal quick, and in a few days, no one will ever know.”

  “A few days?” she whispers and closes her eyes. “I don’t have days.”

  “You have a hot date?” I ask, immediately regretting the question, because if she does, I’ll be pissed.

  “No. No. I have dinner at my grandparents’, and they’ll have more questions than the local sheriff during a murder investigation.”

  “Don’t sweat it. Doctor it up with some makeup, and I’m sure they won’t even notice.”

  Her shoulders sag. “They’ll notice. I don’t wear makeup often, and just the sight of it will set off their Spidey senses, and they’ll know. They’ll know.”

  She’s freaking adorable in her mild panic over her family seeing a bruise on her face. Between my brothers and me, I don’t think we had a time in our childhood when one of us didn’t have a bruise visible on our faces. It was the norm in our family instead of the exception.

  I never even knew violence wasn’t part of everyday life until I left my shit-ass childhood home and traveled the country, landing with people who taught me just how fucked up my life had been.

  “Cancel. Say you’re sick.”

  Her eyes flutter open. “They’ll know I’m lying.”

  “Better for them to know you’re lying than to see the shiner you’re going to have, yeah?”

  She groans.

  I place the veggies next to her on the couch and slide my hand along her jaw until my thumb is resting against her chin. She stares at me as I study her face, taking in the difference from each side. “It won’t be that bad. I know a thing or two about this stuff, baby, and I promise no one will even know and you won’t have any permanent damage.”

  She raises her hand, placing it against the back of mine, touching my wounds. “What the…” Her eyes move to my hand as she pulls it away from her face, taking in the cuts. “You’re hurt.”

  I smile, loving that she cares. “I’m fine. I’ve had worse, and it was worth every minute.”

  The pads of her fingers run between the gashes. “You shouldn’t have…”

  I shake my head. “I wasn’t going to let the man hit you again. When I saw him raise his hand, my blood boiled over. I wasn’t going to stand by like the rest of the assholes there and let him hit you again. Not happening. No way. No one’s going to lay a finger on you without getting their ass beat to the point they’ll think twice before touching someone else.”

  “That’s just…” She stops, biting her bottom lip.

  “Ro, baby, no one’s ever going to lay another hand on you. Not as long as I’m around to make sure that shit never happens again.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. After tonight, everyone’s going to know.”

  “Know what?” she whispers.

  “Know you’re mine, and no one touches what’s mine and doesn’t come out looking like they’ve been through a war.”

  Her eyes widen. “I’m not yours, Dylan. Don’t be ridiculous. I’m no one’s and most certainly not yours.” She releases my hand but doesn’t move away. “I appreciate your help and the save back there, but there won’t be a next time or an us.”

  I move her hand back to her leg with one hand and lift the frozen vegetables back to her cheek with the other. “Whatever you need to tell yourself, babe. There’s fiction, and then there’s reality. The reality is what it is and can’t be changed. Lie to yourself all you want, but tonight made things crystal clear for everyone there, and I have no doubt word will spread quickly.”

  “You’re ridiculous,” she mutters.

  “I’m living in reality, baby. Ain’t no women around here I’ve ever put myself out for. How do you think it’s going to look to all the assholes who were there tonight? They’re talking and spreading that shit far and wide. Ain’t no stopping the gossip train now, and if I’m being honest, I don’t want it to stop either.”

  “But…”

  I shake my head again. “I like your sassy mouth and firecracker personality. You’re beautiful, and your body fits against mine like a glove. Doesn’t matter what happened in the past. Doesn’t matter that your dad’s a dick and hates my guts. When shit works and is supposed to happen, you just gotta let it happen.”

  Her mouth opens and closes as her breathing intensifies. “We can’t. I can’t. There can’t be…”

  “We will, I will, and there’s no stopping it,” I inform her, giving her time to brace for the freight train of bullshit that’s about to roll our way.

  “No,” she replies.

  “Yes,” I say.

  “You should go,” is her only response.

  “I’m not going anywhere, Ro. I have to ice this wound and make sure you’re okay.”

  “I’m fine,” she snaps, trying to take the vegetables from my hand, but I brush her away.

  “This is my job. That’s part of what life is like when you’re mine. I take care of you, and you let me without any lip.”

  “Asshole,” she mumbles under her breath, and for the first time in a long time, I’m excited to see what tomorrow has to offer.

  9

  Rosie

  Dylan’s hand moves underneath my knee, and I brace myself, stiffening my back. “What are you doing?”

  He glances up, looking at me with those hauntingly green eyes and a smile that makes my belly flutter. “Carrying you to bed.”

  I yank his hand away from my leg, keeping a grip on his wrist, and gawk at him. “You’re what?”

  Is he flipping crazy? He’s clearly delusional if he thinks that I’m not only his but that I need his help moving my body to the bed. A small sliver of me thinks it’s cute and romantic, but the big part of me, the independent woman in me, thinks it’s over-the-top ridiculous.

  “Babe, you heard me. Not going to repeat myself.”

  I blink, dumbfounded by his attitude. “I can walk, and I’m not ready to go to bed.”

  “I know you can walk, and you’re ready for bed.”

  I narrow my eyes, giving him my best pissed-off glare, something I’ve perfected over the last twenty-four years. “Uh. No.”

  “Baby,” he whispers in a sweet and sexy voice, making parts of my body quiver when they have no right to do so. “It’s easier to ice your face when you’re flat on your back than sitting up.”

  I don’t relax my face, even though he’s making complete sense. Of course it would be easier, but like with most things, I don’t like being told when I need to do something. And if we’re going to get into the meat of it, who the hell is he to tell me to do anything? “We need to talk, and I mean really talk.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “About?”

  “What you said before.”

  He tilts his head, eyebrow still raised, and stares at me. “Which part? I said a lot of shit.”