Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Whip couldn’t take his gaze from Angel. Two weeks had gone by since that morning his life was altered while sitting at his dining room table.
The moment she’d kissed him, he was a changed man.
No longer did he give a shit about spreadsheets, The Cellar, or hardly anything else.
All his energy was devoted to the woman who’d crashed into his life.
They’d shared plenty of kisses since then, and he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off her when she was near, but he hadn’t pushed for more.
He was an asshole, but he didn’t sleep with married women.
Hell, he didn’t sleep with women in general these days.
But when he made love to Angel, it would be when she could belong to Whip forever.
It already felt that way to him, but he wanted nothing standing in their way—physically, emotionally, or legally.
She was also still dealing with the aftermath of the abuse her asshole of a husband had put her through, and while every day she proved her strength to him even more, he saw the vestiges of terror in her eyes.
When she was accidentally startled. When she spotted someone out of the corner of her eye she thought might be Dwayne.
When Whip moved too fast. When she dared speak her mind, then waited for him to disapprove.
When she thought she saw her husband’s car in town.
The abuse Dwayne had heaped on her wasn’t going to disappear in a day, and Whip had the patience to show her through words and actions that she was never going back to her old life. That she was safe with him. That he’d move heaven and earth to protect her.
The woman had him wrapped around her little finger. All she had to do was say she wanted something, and he delivered it to her on a silver platter. It brought him a joy he’d never known to see her face light up when he gave her something he knew she’d like.
And what she wanted was never material shit for herself.
It was waffles for breakfast, a perfect size box for Mittens to sleep in, Whip paying for her cats to get physicals at Khloe Walker’s vet clinic, since Angel hadn’t been able to afford to have them checked in over a year.
She was so easy to please, it was almost painful.
Needing to give her everything her heart desired didn’t bode well for Whip in the future, because all she had to do was look at him with those beautiful blue eyes of hers and a little pout on her soft lips, and he caved like the lovesick fool he was.
Which was why his Angel was currently behind the bar at The Cellar, serving drinks to the fuckers who were paying money hand over fist to gawk at his newest employee.
She was good for the pool hall’s bottom line, but not for Whip’s peace of mind.
He wanted to gouge out the eyeballs of every man who stared a little too long.
Who dared to crane his neck trying to see down her shirt when she bent over.
But his Angel was happy. That was more than obvious. And she was good at the job.
The change had come after just two days of her trying to get enough hours at her telemarketing job during the day, after being awake most of the night and into the early morning hours at The Cellar.
Whip refused to leave her alone in his house, in case Dwayne decided to be an idiot.
But she wasn’t used to being up all night, then back up early to get in hours at her job.
He’d walked into the living room one morning to find her being yelled at over the phone by someone she’d called to hawk whatever shit her company was selling that day.
She’d hung up after the call—then burst into tears.
As Whip held her, the desire to find out who’d been on the other end of the phone, track him down to teach him a lesson in kindness, had been overwhelming.
Instead, he’d blurted, “You still want to try your hand at bartending?”
She’d looked up at him with tears sparkling on her lashes, black smudges under her eyes from not getting enough sleep, and nodded.
And now here she was. Kicking ass and taking names.
It was as if she’d always worked behind the bar.
She was a little rusty at first, but since he didn’t serve a hell of a lot of frou-frou drinks, she caught on quickly.
It wasn’t hard to serve beer and drinks on the rocks.
And whatever she needed help with, the other bartender was there to assist. The man was glad for the help because business at The Cellar was booming.
He and Angel were getting closer by the day, and living with her was nothing like what he’d thought it would be.
He assumed he’d eventually want his space, but instead, the more he was around her, the more obsessed he became.
In fact, his biggest problem was, he desperately wanted to move her out of his guest room and into his room.
But he couldn’t and wouldn’t do that until the asshole she’d married was out of their lives for good. Both on paper and physically.
Whip had been keeping his ear to the ground about Dwayne. Word was he’d healed from the beatings he’d gotten at Whip’s hands…but also that he was pissed.
Good. Let him be pissed. Whip would love another chance to teach the man a lesson in beating on someone weaker than himself. But he couldn’t simply go over to his house and beat the man to within an inch of his life with no provocation.
Simon Hill, the Fallport police chief, had been to the house and taken a domestic abuse report from Angel. The things she’d told the man about her husband made Whip itch to avenge her more than ever.
Of course, Simon had pulled him outside when he was leaving and warned him not to do anything stupid.
In other words, anything that would make Simon have to arrest him instead of Dwayne.
And being taken away from Angel, leaving her vulnerable for Dwayne to just walk into his house and hurt or, God forbid, kill her, was unacceptable.
So he had to bide his time. Do things by the book. Keep Angel by his side at all times.
And immediately after their talk with Simon, he’d taken her to see Nissi O’Neill, the best lawyer in Fallport, to start divorce proceedings. It would take time, which Whip didn’t like, but that was something he’d have to accept.
In the meantime, he’d continue to keep watch over his Angel, enjoy seeing her find her wings and fly.
Every day, he saw little changes. Witnessed more confidence.
Tonight, she’d even rolled her eyes at one of the customers, which was huge, since she’d always been a little scared to challenge anyone.
To push back when they got a little aggressive.
She was glorious, and Whip thanked his lucky stars every day that he actually had the kind of bar where a man like Dwayne Martin felt comfortable.
Because if The Cellar had been anything like On the Rocks—the bar across the square that catered to tourists and the more respectable locals—Dwayne never would’ve dragged his poor abused wife in, forcing her to sit in a corner while he had his fun.
Never would’ve dreamed of abusing her in front of so many witnesses.
And while Whip still saw red just thinking of that night…
if Dwayne hadn’t entered the bar, Whip never would’ve met Angel.
When the door to The Cellar opened, Whip looked up out of habit. He didn’t have bouncers, as the pool hall wasn’t the kind of place people entered if they weren’t of age, and if anyone got too out of control, Whip just dealt with them himself.
As the patron entered, Whip’s feet were moving before his brain had time to catch up with who he was seeing.
Dwayne.
For some insane reason, the man actually thought it was all right to just saunter into The Cellar, as if he hadn’t gotten his ass kicked a couple of weeks ago for assaulting his wife in the back corner.
“Fuck no. Get out,” Whip barked as he got close.
Instead of looking cowed, Dwayne sneered at Whip. “This is a public place. I can be here if I want.”
“No you fucking cannot. This is my place, private property, and you aren’t welcome,” he said, as he reached for Dwayne’s arm to force him back toward the door.
But the asshole made the mistake of pivoting out of his way and rushing toward the bar.
Not happening.
“Whore! The whole town knows you’ve been sleeping with this asshole. You need to come home right now! I’ll forgive you for cheating, but this is your only fucking chance.”
Angel’s face drained of color as she took a step backward, away from the bar, away from her worst nightmare coming straight for her.
Whip didn’t think twice. He stomped up behind Dwayne and shoved him as hard as he could.
The man flew forward, hit the edge of the bar, bounced off, and fell backward onto his ass. His arm flew outward on his way down, smacking one of the bikers sitting at the bar in the face.
Whip stood back as the biker surged to his feet and reached for Dwayne. He watched with no emotion as Angel’s husband got the shit beaten out of him by not only the biker, but two of his buddies who were sitting with him at the bar.
He was perfectly content to keep watching—but he made the mistake of looking up at Angel. She seemed to be on the verge of passing out. He didn’t care about violence himself, enjoyed dishing out his own brand of justice when it was called for, but he hated how terrified his Angel looked.
“Enough,” he growled, in a tone meant to be obeyed.
The bikers paused and looked up at him.
“Enough,” he repeated, in a more normal tone, gesturing toward the door. “Take him out and dump him in the parking lot. If he can make it home, fine. It not, whatever.”
No one offered to call for medical attention. It wasn’t that kind of crowd. Besides, the man had stormed in here flinging slurs toward the pretty woman behind the bar. The woman whose laugh lightened the atmosphere. Who made every customer feel welcome and seen.
No one felt any compassion toward this asshole.