Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Christian
Devon rocks back, glaring at me with watery eyes.
“What the fuck was that for?!”
I shake out my aching fist and spit a mouthful of blood onto the floor. “For distracting me.”
Fucking dick. If he hadn't grabbed me, I could have dodged that hit.
“You're welcome, by the way,” he mumbles, massaging his mouth. “Jesus, I think you broke my lip ring.”
I run my gaze over his thin frame, taking in the dirty hoodie hanging off his shoulders. The sight of sallow skin stretching tight over his cheekbones catches me off guard enough that I don't sense the figure looming over me until it's too late.
A meaty hand fists the collar of my vest and yanks me backward. Pain flares down my spine as I twist, ready to swing, but the sight of a butterfly knife has me freezing in place.
“Well, well,” someone drawls to my left. “You must be the reason my bar is trashed.”
I bare my teeth at some fugly-ass greaseball in a leather jacket. “You serve shit beer, motherfucker.”
Devon chokes out a laugh, but the bar owner's grin widens.
“Looks like someone needs to teach you some manners,” he says, jerking his chin to the asswipe holding me at knifepoint.
The blade presses into the underside of my jaw, kicking my heartbeat through the roof. Out of my peripheral vision, I catch Dev step forward.
“Arnie, don’t—”
“Stay outta this,” the owner snaps.
I hold my breath, waiting for Devon to spit back some stinging remark, to see that cocky smirk spread over his swollen lips, but… All he does is flinch and seal his mouth shut.
What the fuck?
Movement catches my attention as a burly biker drags someone out of the crowd—a small someone.
Owen.
“Found this one trying to slip out the door,” the meathead says, shoving him forward.
“Hey!” I snap, lunging before the knife reminds me that I can’t. “Let him go, asshole!”
Owen's eyes are wide in panic as he silently begs me to fix this dumpster fire I’ve gotten us into. The blade presses harder against my jaw until it breaks skin, and warm blood trickles down my neck.
“Let him go,” I grit out again, glaring over at Arnie.
He just hums before pointing over at Devon. “Sure. You both can go. As soon as your boy here settles his debt.”
“His what?”
“Come on, man,” Dev mutters without looking at me. “I told you I’d pay. I just need a little more time.”
“That’s what you all say.” Arnie leans in, running his gaze over Dev in a way that makes my skin crawl. “But time costs money, sweetheart. You pay in cash, or you pay in other ways.”
Devon silently drops his gaze to the floor and shrinks away. His shoulders slump, chest heaving almost in defeat, and the sight pisses me the fuck off. Who the hell even is this asshole right now?
What happened to the Dev I knew from last year? The one who flirted and fucked and sucked like he didn't give a shit about anyone but himself?
“I’ll pay it,” I blurt out, just wanting to get the fuck out of here.
Arnie’s attention slides to me curiously.
I lift my chin against the knife pressing into my throat. “You heard me. Whatever he owes you, I’ll cover it.”
Devon’s head jerks up. “Christian, no—”
“Shut up. How much does he owe?”
And for what?
Judging by the skeletal look of his cheekbones, I can probably guess.
Arnie sizes me up for a long moment. “Five grand.”
My jaw nearly drops to the floor.
Five fucking thousand dollars!
“What the hell did you do?” I growl at Dev, but he still won't look me in the eye.
He aims his glare at Arnie's ugly mug. “You said two. Not five.”
“That was before your pal here disrupted my business and ruined my bar. You're lucky that's all I'm charging you for.”
Those words hang heavy in the air, and Dev recoils like he’s been hit. His fingers twitch at his sides, throat working around a swallow, but he doesn’t say another word.
A sick feeling roils in my gut. I don’t even like Devon, but watching him wilt under Arnie’s sneer ain't sitting right with me. And the way some of these gross motherfuckers are eyeing him and Owen creeps me out. Shit.
This all can go south really fucking quick if I don't play my cards right.
“Fine,” I say, scrambling for a plan. “Deal. I'll pay.”
Devon finally glances my way. “Christian, don’t.”
Ignoring him, I turn to the sleazy bar owner and pull out my wallet. “I don't have any more cash.”
Fuck, I don't have that kinda money at all. But TOT's business account does, even though it's slowly drying up. I'll figure it out. Whatever I gotta do to get us out of this shit.
Arnie tilts his head toward the bar with a grin. “Register.”
The blade at my throat disappears. Without taking my eyes off the fucker still holding it, I make my way over to the asshole bartender and give him my credit card.
Technically, it's not even mine. Logan set it up for business financing, to be used only in emergencies. Pretty sure this fucking counts as an emergency.
Seconds tick by as the bartender runs the card, and when the point-of-sale system flashes 'approved', he slides it across the counter with the receipt. I don’t bother signing it, just shove the card back into my wallet and turn around.
“Now we’re done,” I say flatly. “Let us go.”
“Pleasure doing business with you,” Arnie drawls, swinging his gaze over to Dev. “Debt’s settled.”
Relief hits me instantly, but before I even have time to breathe, one of his guys steps forward and drives a brutal fist straight into Devon’s face with a sickening crack.
“Hey!” I lunge forward when he crumples to the ground, only to be held back by someone's tight grip on my arm.
“That’s for wasting my time,” Arnie says calmly, looking down at Devon’s unconscious body. “Hopefully he learns his lesson. Now get the fuck out of my bar.”
Rough hands grab Devon under the arms, dragging his limp body across the filthy floor. I fight like hell, but there are too many of them. Owen scrambles to keep up as they shove us out of the exit and onto the street.
Cold air hits my face, and I spin around in time to watch them toss Devon at my feet before slamming the door shut. Dropping to my knees, I immediately roll him onto his side. Bruises mottle his skin.
“Dev,” I growl, jostling his body. “Hey. Fuck, wake up.”
Nothing.
Owen hovers overhead, pale and shaking. “Is he…?”
My fingers fly to Devon’s pulse point. “He’s breathing. Heartbeat seems steady.” Thank fuck. “Come on. We need to get him home.”
As Owen and I struggle to lift the fucker up, anger and panic begin to swirl around in my chest.
I just paid five thousand dollars to get a man out of trouble that I don’t even like. Almost got Owen hurt in the process. Got held at knifepoint. Fuck, Logan is going to throttle me.
And somehow, I can feel in my bones that everything is only going to get worse from here.