Chapter Twenty Six
Seeing Red
R ed .
It’s all I see when I spot his fucking hand on her throat.
Not the lights. Not the crowd. Not even the cowboy hat tumbling off the smug asshole's head as I grab him by the collar and slam him into the nearest post hard enough to rattle the walls.
Georgia.
My Georgia.
He stumbles, gasping, hands digging at my fist like the little bitch he is. His face is red and mottled, but I can’t see past the haze settling in around me, coating my world in a burning glow.
“What the fuck, man?”
“You ever touch her again, and I’ll decorate this floor with your goddamn teeth,” I snarl, body vibrating.
He shoves back, but I barely move. “She liked it rough—just playing hard—”
Crack .
My fist hits his face so hard it echoes. He drops like a sack of shit, catching himself against a barstool, blood blooming beneath his nose.
“You wanna finish that sentence?” I roar, stepping over him. “Go ahead. Try me, motherfucker.”
I can sense Wild on my right, Griff on my left, and I vaguely realize the bar’s gone silent, but all I see is him.
Him in her face.
Her pushing him away.
His hands on her throat.
Her. Throat.
His eyes are wild now, but he’s stupid. Stupid enough to swing. I duck and slam my forearm into his gut, driving him back into the table. Bottles crash to the floor. Chairs scatter. Someone screams.
Doesn’t matter.
He grabs my shirt, tries to yank me down—but I twist, lift him by the collar again, and slam him face-first into the bar, holding him there.
“You don’t talk to her. You don’t look at her. You don’t even fucking breathe in her direction,” I hiss, pressing him down, nose mashed against the wood, blood smearing across the grain. “You understand me?”
And because he’s got a death wish, he keeps running his fuckin’ mouth.
“She’s just—”
I drag him back by the shirt and punch him again.
Harder .
This time, he slumps, dazed and sputtering on the floor.
“She’s just mine ,” I snap.
“Kade!” someone yells behind me. “You’re gonna kill him!”
Good.
I shove him off the bar, and he crumples, wheezing on the floor like the pathetic sack of shit he is. His friends are nowhere to be seen and the guys are flanking me, arms crossed, faces serious but confident.
Locking eyes with the piece of shit glaring up at me, I crouch—and for once, I don’t even feel the burn in my thigh. All I feel is satisfaction and lingering rage.
“Get the fuck out,” I growl, fists clenched. “If I ever see you again, I’ll finish what I started. Got me?”
He scoffs, shoving himself off the floor. I cock a brow and step into his space and his face crumples a second before he tucks tail and scurries away.
Coward .
Only when the fuckface and his friends are gone, the door swinging behind them, do I finally turn to face her.
Georgia’s frozen, her chest rising and falling fast, hands curled into trembling fists on her lap. Her eyes lock with mine—bright, wide and glassy.
The sight of her so scared sucks all the air from my lungs.
I take a step toward her and she flinches like she’s scared of me. My knees damn near buckle.
“Darlin’?” I rasp, gaze trailing across her face, her body, before zeroing in on her throat. It’s too fuckin’ dark in here, and I’m too far to see any damage. “Georgia?”
She doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, doesn’t look away, but I see the way her bottom lip quivers—and the instant it does, I’m moving again.
Don’t stop till I’m right in front of her, surrounding her, not an inch of space between us, but I don’t touch her, not yet. Her neck cranes back, eyes tracking my every move. Her throat bobs and she tucks that shaking lip between her teeth, biting down hard.
“You scared of me, freckles?” I murmur, muscles vibrating with the need to hold her.
Her mouth opens, and closes, brows tight, eyes blinking furiously, before she finally breathes, “Never.”
Relief has my shoulders slumping, but I can’t get a read on her. My hands reach out, hesitating, hovering between us. “What’s going through that pretty head of yours?”
“You…” She swallows thickly, shaking her head. “You defended me.”
“Of course I did,” I say, scoffing. “Why the fuck wouldn’t I?” My gaze snaps to the door, jaw ticking, pissed off all over again. “He touched you. Put his hand around your throat like he had any fuckin’ right. I should kill—”
A soft, delicate hand grips my jaw, forcing my face back to hers. A shudder runs through me at the feeling.
“You called me yours,” she breathes, fingers stroking through my beard absently. “You called me your woman, Kade. Called me yours. Defended me like you meant it, too.”
“I did mean it…” I trail off, heart racing. Hadn’t even realized what I’d been saying. Just knew that I could have easily killed him for what he did.
“Why?” she whispers, trailing her hand across my face, my cheek, smoothing her thumb beneath my eye with so much reverence, I damn near forget how to breathe. “Why would you do that for me?”
Goddamn, my sweet, soft girl. She has no idea how much she means to me, does she?
And why the fuck would she?
Last night, we opened up to each other, laid our demons down between us in the darkness, but when it came time for me to put my cards on the table, tell her the crazy shit that’s been going through my head for weeks now, the damn near insatiable way I want her, need her … I froze up.
She was asking—begging me, to put a name on it, and I didn’t, couldn’t, too scared to fuck this up the way I fuck up everything else in my life.
All I knew in that moment was that I wanted Georgia Walker more than I wanted anything in my life other than Aurora, but that's a whole different kind of want.
I want Aurora to be safe and loved, protected and cherished. Want her to learn and grow with me.
With Georgia… I just want her .
In every way. In all ways.
Why the hell couldn’t I have just told her that?
Exhaling roughly, I drop my forehead to hers and finally give into the need to wrap her in my arms. Her hands fall between us, tangling in the fabric of my shirt and she melts into me.
“Freckles,” I murmur, kissing her forehead. “You wanna know why I defended you like that?”
“Yes.” Her eyes flit between mine, fingers digging in deeper. “I don’t understand it.”
“How could I not?” I whisper. “You think I could stand there and watch someone put their hands on you? Talk to you like that? Not a fucking chance in hell.”
A deep breath rattles out of me, shaking me down to my bones.
“You walked into my life like a goddamn whirlwind, Georgia. All fire and fight and freckles, and now I can't go a day without thinking about you. Wanting you. Craving you. Worrying about you.” I swallow hard, tightening my grip on her. “You might not realize it yet, but you’re mine, and I’m gonna prove it to you. ”
Her breath catches, and for a second, I think I’ve gone too far—but then she exhales in this quiet, relieved little laugh that’s so soft, it brushes right against my ribs.
“That’s really nice. Love the way it sounds.”
“That right?” I murmur, confusion and shock bouncing through my system.
This is one-eighty from the way we left shit last night.
This is the Georgia who wrapped herself around my back and held on tight through my storm. The one who kissed me on the back of that horse, made out with me like we were lovesick teenagers, desperate to never let go.
“Yep.” She wraps a finger around a chunk of my beard and tugs hard enough to make my eyes water, but I don’t stop her, too caught up in the moment, too addicted to the feel of her.
“Your beard tickles.” She giggles. “Feels like fuzzy sandpaper.”
I blink, stunned—and then inhale, catching a wave of tequila so strong it singes my brain. “Drunk, baby?”
She lifts her head and gives me a squinty, slow-motion shrug. “No.” She pauses. “Yes.” A beat. “A little.” Then she hiccups and boops my nose. “I like that name.”
“Baby?”
An adorable nod. “Say it again. Slower. ”
“I’ll call you whatever you want me to,” I say softly, grin tugging at my lips when she boops me again. “Think I’ll start with mine , though.”
Her pupils dilate and she sways. “Sounds dangerous, cowboy.”
Christ, she’s fuckin’ cute.
“You like danger?”
“Yes.” She nods, then shakes her head, shoulders slumping as she half-wails, half-sobs, “No! I’m too boring for danger! Abby always says I need to jump out of planes, but I don’t want to! I hate heights.”
“That’s okay,” I soothe, petting her hair. “We don’t need to go skydivin’, baby.”
She pouts and hiccups again. “Can we have fries though?”
“Interesting,” Griff mutters, eyes glued to Georgia who’s back to playing with my beard and smiling. He shoots me a wink. “She’s a fun drunk.”
“And she really is hot as hell,” Wilder adds.
My jaw ticks, and I bundle her deeper into my chest like I can keep him from flirting by osmosis or some shit. “Fuck off, asshole.”
“We split this,” Gemma announces, holding an empty tequila bottle like a trophy. “Damn good show, big bro.” She cackles, stumbling. “Oh shit, that rhymed.”
“Nice right hook,” Hazel adds, flicking me right between the brows. “Could’ve stepped in earlier though. I almost had to kill a grown man.” Her eyes narrow, sliding from me to Georgia—who’s now fully snuggled against my chest, huffing me like I’m her emotional support hoodie.
“She drank a lot,” Hazel murmurs, lip lifting in a soft smile. “But she’s good people. Not many people can keep up with an Archer. I like her.”
“So do I,” I grunt, wrapping one arm around Georgia’s waist, the other gliding through her curls, memorizing the way she feels wrapped up in my arms. “Who the fuck was that?”
“That would be Clint Cooper of Cooper Ridge,” Hazel says, rolling her eyes so hard they might stick. Her gaze flicks to Griffin, then back to me. “Tiny-dicked ego maniac, according to your girl.”
My brows lift, but I don’t correct her. Because she’s right.
Don’t know how the hell I’m gonna pull it off, but she’s mine.
I just have to prove it to her— when she’s sober .
Georgia shifts again, murmuring something incoherent against my chest. I lean down, catching the words “ big pecs” and “leather ” and smother a laugh in her curls.
But then she sways hard, and my smile dies.
“I’m takin’ her home,” I say, chin jerking toward my sisters and their friends. “Can you handle the girls? Make sure they all get home safe?”
“Sure thing,” Wilder says, not even looking up—too busy drooling over Emmy.
“He’s talkin’ to me, dickwad.” Griff scoffs and turns to me.“No worries, man. I’ll wrangle the herd. You just take care of…” His gaze drops to Georgia, who chooses that exact moment to lift her head.
“I’m tired,” she says, blinking up at me. “And starving .”
“Okay, darlin’,” I murmur, ducking down until my lips brush her hair. “Let’s get you home.”
“Don’t remember where I live.”
“That’s alright.” Wasn’t taking her home anyway. “You drive here?”
Georgia nods, tugging her keys from her purse. She holds them up, blinking at me with the kind of soft, sleepy look that hits me dead center.
“Will you drive?” she whispers. It’s the hope in her voice that damn near drops me to my knees. The vulnerability. The trust. Like she knows I’ll keep her safe without her ever having to ask.
“’Course,” I mutter, throat tight as I glance over my shoulder. “Griff—take my truck.”
I toss him my keys and don’t wait for a reply—just snag hers and guide her toward the door, one hand wrapped around her waist like she’s already mine to protect.
Georgia stays close the whole way out, her thumb tucked into my belt beneath the back of my shirt, her warm palm ghosting my skin. She doesn’t stumble, but I keep my arm locked around her anyway. Not because she needs it, but because I need her close after what happened tonight.
My eyes sweep the parking lot, scanning every shadow, every group of stragglers still loitering by the bar. Clint Cooper and his cronies are long gone, but tension still simmers in my spine.
“Where’d you park?” I ask, slowing to a stop. “Don’t see the Beamer anywhere.”
She giggles and points to an older black Jeep parked beside my truck. “Right there.”
I blink. Hard. “Darlin’, that’s not your—”
“It is,” she huffs, pulling away from me and beelining for it before I can snatch her back.
“I never wanted that stupid car,” she says dreamily, brushing her palm across the paint.
“Tried to lease one of these, but they were all out. Only thing they had left was that fancy BMW.” She turns, eyes heavy but shining, and grins up at me. “Had a hell of a sound system, though.”
Chuckling, I thumb the fob. Sure enough, the Jeep chirps and unlocks. I open the passenger door, ready to help, but she beats me to it, reaching for the frame like she’s gonna climb in herself.
Not on my damn watch.
Before she can even lift a leg, I catch her by the hips and lift her clean off the ground.
She lets out the cutest little squeal I’ve ever heard. “What the fuck, Kade!”
“Think you meant, thank you, Kade ,” I mutter, voice low as I lean over her and click the buckle into place.
Her chest brushes mine, little nipples so hard, my mouth waters. She gasps, just the faintest sound, but it shreds through me like shrapnel. Her hands land on my shoulders to steady herself, fingers flexing through the cotton of my shirt. My breath stalls as her wide, green eyes meet mine.
She doesn’t pull away.
Neither do I.
“Beautiful,” I breathe, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. My knuckles graze her flushed cheek, and her lips part. “So goddamn beautiful, baby.”
Her gaze dips to my mouth.
“Dangerous,” she murmurs, throat bobbing. “You’re so dangerous to my system, Kade Archer.”
“Why’s that?”
Her tongue glides across her lower lip, eyes still locked on my mouth, and whispers, “I could fall in love with you so easily if I let myself.”
Air stalls in my fuckin’ lungs. She’s drunk, not in her right mind, and asking her questions feels like cheating, but fuck, how can I not?
“Why can’t you let yourself?” I ask, throat dry and tight, fingers trailing across her jaw. She leans into that touch and words slip free before I can stop them. “Why can’t you fall with me?”
“Because…” There’s so much pain in her expression, it guts me. “Because you’ll leave when I let you in. Everyone always does.”
I want to tell her she’s wrong. Wanna promise I’ll be different, that I won’t break her heart, or abandon her, but she’s not in her right mind tonight and I don’t think there’s a damn thing I can say to prove that I’m, that this , is different.
Just have to show her.
Sighing, I lean in and press a lingering kiss to her forehead. “Let’s get you home.”
She smiles up at me, but her eyes are glassy, and I don’t think it has a damn thing to do with the liquor. “Don’t forget the fries.”