Chapter Twenty-Six
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T ristan swallowed the last sip of his beer and set the bottle on the bar.
“You want another?” the bartender asked as he polished a glass.
“Nah, I’m good.” He eyed Gavin, seated on the stool next to him.
His twin was only half-finished with his drink, engrossed in a football game on the TV.
They’d come all the way to this bar two towns south down the coast for a change.
It was smaller than Sea Hag, the drinks were slightly cheaper, and it wasn’t as busy.
It also meant there was zero chance of running into Cassie.
Which was a good thing, because after yesterday he was hanging by a thread emotionally, and it seemed like the need and frustration inside him were twisting tighter every hour.
If he were in Crimson Point, he wouldn’t trust himself not to go back to her place and try again.
The bottom line was, she wasn’t ready for a relationship. At least not the kind of relationship he wanted, and he wasn’t going to settle for less. So he was trying like hell to bury his feelings, but they were just about choking him.
He glanced up at the TV. The game was only partway through the second quarter. It seemed excruciatingly slow tonight. Flag after flag after flag delaying the game clock even more.
“You got somewhere you need to be?” Gavin asked, eyes on the game.
“No.” It was just that he was about to come out of his freaking skin.
He took a deep breath, folded his arms, and tried to settle the raging storm inside him. Being out with Gav was much better than being at home by himself, and though he was always welcome at his twin’s place, he wouldn’t have been very good company for Autumn and Carly at the moment.
Off to the side of the room, he noticed a guy approach two young women sitting at a table. Within two seconds, he could tell they didn’t know him. He was much older than they were, early forties.
They quit talking and looked up when he stopped at their table and said something to them. Their polite expressions froze, and they darted an uncomfortable look at each other.
The guy smirked and said something else, planting a hand on the table to lean in. Deliberately crowding them. Both women shrank back in their chairs, shooting glances across the room as if looking for help.
Tristan was off his stool and heading over before he’d taken his next breath. The ladies saw him coming, stared at him with identical pinched expressions.
At the last second, the asshole turned his head and saw him. Straightened and sized him up.
Tristan was at least a few inches taller and had twenty pounds of muscle on him. But he wouldn’t have cared if this asshole had been bigger than he was.
He kept his gaze pinned on him, only looked at the women once he’d stopped at the table. “Hi. There’s a free table over near the bar by my brother and me if you’re interested.” Gavin was already on his feet, watching the situation intently from across the room.
The women stared up at him a moment, then the dark-haired one grabbed her purse. “Sure, that sounds—”
“They’re fine where they are,” Asshole said.
“I’ll take you over,” Tristan told them, ignoring him.
As the ladies started to rise, Asshole made the mistake of planting a hand on Tristan’s chest. “I said, they’re fine where they are.”
Tristan glanced down pointedly at the hand, then back up to meet the bloodshot eyes drilling into his. The frustration in him was desperate for an outlet. Begging for a reason to be unleashed. “Get your hand off me.” He said it quietly. But the tone was unmistakable.
That was the only warning he was giving.
Asshole set his jaw. “How about you fuck off back to where you came from?” He tried to give him a shove.
Tristan didn’t budge. And he’d had enough.
He snatched Asshole’s wrist, wrenched it sideways as he grabbed the guy’s shoulder with his other hand and twisted him around so the wrist was cocked behind his shoulder blade at a painful angle. Asshole yelped in surprise and came up on his toes to avoid having his bones and ligaments snapped.
“You’re leaving,” Tristan said, the entire bar suddenly deathly quiet.
“Fuck you, man!” But Asshole didn’t dare struggle, as if he instinctively knew that a few more ounces of pressure from Tristan meant a broken arm.
Tristan took a step, forcing Asshole forward toward the door. Two other men at another table in front of them rose, started toward them with set faces.
“Go to the bar,” Tristan said to the women without taking his eyes off the men, angling Asshole in front of him like a shield as his buddies approached. In his peripheral vision, he saw the ladies hurry away.
Gavin appeared at his side an instant later.
Tristan shoved Asshole away from him, making him stagger and catch himself as Tristan faced the other men.
One of them took a swing at his face. Tristan deflected it, hooked his ankle around the attacker’s and yanked it out from under him, sending the guy sprawling on his ass on the floor.
The third guy gave an enraged howl and charged at him. Gavin knocked him sideways before he could come within punching range.
Tristan raised an eyebrow at the three of them. “Had enough?”
Buddies Two and Three shoved to their feet and charged at them.
He and Gavin both moved in closer to take away their leverage and caught them each in a chokehold.
Buddy Three clawed at Tristan’s arm, trying to rip it away from the front of his throat.
Tristan increased the pressure of his forearm, stopping him cold.
But he didn’t move fast enough to avoid the head jerk.
He sucked in a breath as the back of the guy’s skull slammed into his mouth. Tasted blood as his lip split. Sonofa bitch .
“That’s enough, all of you. I’ve called the cops,” the bartender said, standing off to the side, watching them all warily.
“Fuck you, Doug,” Asshole snarled, cradling his wrist. Tristan hadn’t broken it, but hopefully it was at least severely sprained. “He’s the bastard who started it.” He jerked his chin at Tristan.
“No, you started it, and I saw you do it,” Doug said. “Now get the fuck out of my bar and take your dipshit buddies with you, or you can spend the night in jail.”
Asshole stood there quivering in fury and humiliation, his face turning bright red.
Then he glanced at his buddies, who had wisely decided not to move in case it got them choked unconscious.
“Let’s get the fuck outta here,” he growled at them.
“This place has gone to shit anyway.” He spat on the floor for emphasis.
Tristan gave Buddy Three one extra squeeze to drive his point home, then sent him on his way with a hard shove that made him stumble toward Asshole.
Gavin released Buddy Two with a healthy push to help him on his way.
The two of them stood shoulder to shoulder, arms folded as they watched the trio stalk out the door, receiving a few threatening glares before they disappeared from view.
Gavin glanced at him. “Feel any better now?”
He thought about it. “Maybe a little.”
“Here.” Doug handed him a damp paper towel. “I’ve got a first aid kit behind the bar. You guys want another beer? It’s on me.”
His bleeding lip was too sore to drink a beer. “Maybe just a bag of ice.”
“Sure thing.”
“I’ll take a beer,” Gavin said, following Doug back to the bar.
The relocated women were standing next to it, watching Tristan as he made his way over with the paper towel pressed to his bleeding lip. “Thank you,” the blonde said. “That was really great of you. Can we buy you a drink?”
“No, I’m okay. You guys good?” They didn’t look too rattled.
“Yeah, we’re fine. He was such a creep.” The brunette glanced at his lip. “Can I take a look at that, see if you need stitches? I’m a nurse.”
“It’s all right, I—”
“Here. Sit.” She put a hand on the middle of his back in clear nurse mode, steered him toward a stool, and he sat on it dutifully.
Doug slid the first aid kit to her. She pulled on the gloves inside and pushed the hand pressing the paper towel to his lip away.
His cheeks heated with embarrassment. It was just a minor cut. He’d been injured worse by his own brothers over the years.
“Okay, lemme see...” She tipped his chin up. Turned his face this way and that. “It’s deep, but I don’t think you’ll need stitches. And the good news is, the inside of your lip will heal fast, because it’s in a moist environment.”
The only moist environment he was interested in was Cassie’s. And he was such a pervert for thinking about that right now. “Thanks, I’m all right.”
She took the bag of ice Doug handed her, wrapped it in a clean, damp paper towel and guided it back to his lip. “Hold this here. Fifteen to twenty minutes max.”
He glanced over at Gavin, who was grinning like a fool as he raised his beer in salute.
Tristan narrowed his eyes at him, then turned back to the nurse. “Thanks.”
“Yeah, anytime.” She looked closer at his hand, then glanced toward Gavin. “He’s wearing a wedding ring, but you’re not. That mean you might be available if a girl was interested?” Her dark eyes danced with a blend of humor and interest.
He definitely wasn’t available to anyone but Cassie. “It’s complicated.”
She sighed and flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Well, that’s disappointing. And whoever it is, she’s a lucky girl.”
God, what he wouldn’t give for Cassie to think so.
She and the blonde went to their table to order some food. Tristan sat at the bar with the ice on his lip, his mood starting to sour. Those few minutes of controlled violence had barely scratched the surface of the war raging inside him.
“So now what?” Gavin asked, casually helping himself to a handful of pretzels Doug had slid over. “Wanna find another bar and pick a fight there?”
Tristan grunted and glanced at the TV. Shit, it wasn’t even halftime yet? What the hell?
His phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out, surprised to see a message from Ivy.
You talk to Cassie today?
It was a really odd thing for her to ask. His spidey senses started tingling. No. Why? Something wrong?
Dots appeared. Then, Might want to talk to her. And you both need to watch your backs.
He stared at the message. What the hell did that mean? Ivy obviously knew something big. What’s going on? Just tell me.
More dots. Have ID on the prime suspect.
Whoa. Who is it?
You need to talk to Cassie.
Come on. Cassie knew, and she hadn’t told him? Just tell me. I want to know before I talk to her.
He waited, but Ivy didn’t respond. Just when he thought she wouldn’t, the dots appeared again. He stared at his phone, pulse picking up.
Her ex.
It felt like a giant fist grabbed his insides and clenched them. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered, fury blasting through him. Her ex was this dangerous, and she’d never said anything.
“What?” Gavin asked.
“It’s Ivy. Says they think Cassie’s ex is the suspect.”
“Shit, for real?” Gavin leaned in to read the chain.
“Cassie still didn’t call me.” Then he noticed the little icon at the bottom of the home screen, showing he’d missed a call. His heart squeezed when he saw Cassie’s number.
“Wait.” He checked the call log, saw she’d phoned right about the same time he’d been getting his lip bashed in. No wonder he hadn’t felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.
And she’d left a voicemail.
He punched in his code, raised his phone to his ear, tuning out everything else in the background.
“Is it her?” Gavin asked.
He nodded. Listened to the recorded message, the sound of her voice a soothing balm to all his frazzled edges.
But her words were the opposite.
“Hey, it’s...me. I just heard from Ivy. Can you come over to talk? There are some things I need to tell you.”
He shot off his stool, dumping the bag of ice on the bar as he grabbed his jacket. He called her back on the way to the door, but it went straight to voicemail.
He didn’t leave a message. This conversation was happening in person.
Gavin was right beside him as he strode for the exit. “Where we goin’?”
“Back to Crimson Point. I’m talking to her about this face to face.”