Chapter 20 #2
I scoff and take the beer out of Diesel’s outstretched hand, appreciating it more than they could know. “Not tonight,” I say, knowing they have more than enough experience with me bailing on nights just like this for his assumption to have merit. “I need this.”
“Ahh yeah,” Diesel murmurs. “You had that thing with your brother.”
Ace scoffs, knowing my disdain for my brother. “How’d that go?”
“As expected,” I mutter, lifting the rim to my lips and taking a long drink. “He talked. I listened. Then I left before I beat the shit out of him.”
Diesel smirks. “So standard then?”
“Pretty much.”
The boys and I relax and talk shit, and soon enough, a few of the other guys on the team are showing up and letting loose.
They tell me about their shift. It was quiet, which no doubt means our next shift is going to be more chaotic than any of us are prepared for, but if anyone can handle it, it’s my team.
I sit back and listen to the mayhem around me, letting my mind wander, and just as I go to lift the glass of my second beer to my lips, a howling laugh comes tearing through the bar from the back of the room.
My back stiffens, hearing the familiar tone as all eyes turn toward the mechanical bull competition, and there, riding the bull like a fucking cowgirl is Harper-Rayn Madden, her short skirt flying up and flashing every one of my boys.
“Well fuck,” Ace says beside me. “I’d recognize that ass anywhere.”
I grab him by the front of the shirt and pull him in.
“What did I tell you about her ass?” I question.
“Don’t make me wrap this glass around your head.
” He laughs, knowing damn well how to get a rise out of me, and as I make my way toward Harper, I can’t help but notice Ace trailing along.
Ace isn’t the type to just sit back and allow shit to happen without stirring the pot, so I turn and meet his stare.
“Sit your ass down before I break your legs and make you sit down.”
He laughs again, his gaze shifting over my shoulder to Harper, and there’s no denying the attraction there. “You screw it up with that one and I’ll be right there to take your place.”
I roll my eyes but am thankful when he retreats to the table and drops down with the guys. He says something to Diesel, and when both of the fuckers glance my way, grinning like the morons they are, I can only shake my head.
By the time I reach Harper, the whole team will be watching, and I don’t doubt they’ll have score cards ready to produce for every move I make. Every glance in her direction. Every fucking touch.
Letting out a heavy breath, I stride through the bar, wishing I hadn’t left my drink behind, but judging by the way Harper swings around and laughs on that bull, I can only assume she’s wasted.
As I get closer, I notice she has a friend with her, cheering her on, but considering she can barely stand, I have to assume she’s just as drunk as Harper.
I step right up to the side of the ring, crossing my arms over my chest as Harper holds on to the bull with one hand, swinging the other in the air as though she were whipping a lasso.
She rocks back and forward, her body being thrown from side to side, and I have no fucking idea how she isn’t throwing up by now.
There’s no denying it though, she’s killing this competition.
As she whips back and forth, her gaze locks onto mine, and she lets out an excited squeal, her face splitting with the biggest smile I’ve ever seen. I won’t lie, it warms something in my cold heart.
“New number one,” she whoops.
Her friend sucks in a breath, moving far too close to the mechanical bull to be considered safe. “New number one?” she squeals with excitement, and it takes me a minute to place her. Izabella maybe? Izabelle? I think I met her at Mae and Elias’ wedding. “Holy SHIIIIII—”
The mechanical bull takes her out, slamming into her ass and sending her hurtling face-first into the padded wall of the small arena. She lands with an oomph, holding her glass up high, somehow not spilling a drop, and just as I go to help her, Harper leaps to her feet and bounds toward me.
She drops to the ground, her legs up in the air and her skirt flying up to reveal everything she has to offer.
She looks up at me with those big innocent eyes, and I fucking melt.
“Harper,” I scold, leaning down and reaching for the front of her skirt and quickly pulling it down before holding out my hand to help her up.
Her friend howls with laughter. “Where are your panties?”
Harper laughs and allows me to help her to her feet before gripping my arms as she climbs out of the small arena. A beaming smile rips across her face followed by a quick hiccup. “I lost them,” she laughs. “Poof. They just disappeared. Ripped right off me.”
I gape at her. “They just disappeared, huh?” I resist the urge to look around, assuming that her lack of panties has everything to do with this other asshole she’s been with, the very reason she didn’t want to be exclusive—not that exclusivity was on the table in the first place.
She nods and holds up her hand, making fireworks with her fingers. “Poof.”
“Dare I ask how they just magically vanished into thin air? Are you here with someone?”
She nods before grabbing her friend and almost knocking her off her feet.
She hooks her arm over her shoulder before declaring.
“I’m here with Izzy. The Iz-meister. The one and only Izabelle Grace Davenport.
Sounds fancy, right? Just rolls off the tongue.
Izabelle Grace Davenport. She’s a fashion designer, you know.
She’ll be killing it at New York Fashion Week before we know it. ”
I nod, and a part of me is pleased that she’s not here with another man, but that doesn’t shed any light on the whereabouts of her underwear. “Hi Izabelle. Good to see you again.”
Izabelle grins at me. “Well, hi to you too, Mr. Get On Your Knees. You may call me Izzy.”
I arch a brow and glance at Harper, surprised to find that she shared that snippet of information with her friend, and she has the audacity to laugh about it.
“What? Was I not supposed to go blabbing about the guy who took me in during my hour of need and then had his wicked way with me on his bedroom floor in the form of trying to bruise the little dangly thing in the back of my throat with his enormous cock? Oh, I’m sorry. I had no idea, your majesty.”
She hiccups again, and it quickly turns into an awkward burp that makes me uneasy. “Whoops.”
“Harper,” I say, holding her attention. “Just how much have you drunk?”
Both of the girls hold up their hands, trying to count as they rattle off the details of their many trips to the bar. “Ummmm . . . I think seven . . . teen,” she grins before the grin slips away. “My tummy feels ooshy.”
“Ooshy?”
She nods. “Ooshy gooshy.”
Ahh fuck.
“Come on. I’m taking you home.”
Her eyes widen with excitement. “Are you going to hit me with that bossy dom shit again? Because I won’t lie, I enjoyed that. Though between you and me, I think I’m bossier.”
“Harper,” I warn.
“You know, I’m quite the cowgirl,” she says, deep in thought. “I’ve recently been in practice of my reverse cowgirl techniques, and I’m proud to announce that I’m a top tier screw with a deliciously delectable derriere.”
“Indeed,” I agree, putting my hand on each of the girls’ backs and leading them out of the bar. “You have a very delectable derriere. Nobody is arguing there,” I tell her. “But no. I’m taking you straight home, putting you to bed, and that’s it. Don’t even try it.”
Both of the girls laugh, and just as I get them out to my truck and manage to get Izzy into the backseat, Harper leans against my door, propping out her hip and smirking at me as though she knows something I should know.
“The joke’s up, Knight. You followed me here, didn’t you?
” she questions, narrowing her gaze as though she’s trying to catch me out. “I’m not mad about it.”
Something twists in my gut, and an uneasiness floods through my veins. “The fuck are you talking about?”
“In the club. That was you, right?”
I shake my head. “Do I look like the type of man who spends his Saturday night in a club?”
Her brows furrow, and she almost looks sad. “So, it wasn’t you?” she questions, her shoulders slumping. “I could have sworn. He’s tall just like you. Bossy too.”
My stare narrows, and I step into her, gripping her chin and forcing her stare on mine, not liking where this is going. “What the fuck are you talking about, Harper? Who’s bossy? Is this your stalker you’re talking about? Was he there tonight? He talked to you?”
She presses her lips into a hard line and nods, guilt flashing in her eyes. “You’re mad.”
I clench my jaw and try to put my frustration aside, knowing now isn’t the time to get into it, especially when she’s barely able to string a proper sentence together. “Why would I be mad at you, Morticia?”
She grins and glances away. “Because I let him do naughty things to me again.”
My face falls as my heart hammers right out of my fucking chest. “You did what?” I ask. “Wait. Again? The fuck is that supposed to mean? You’ve seen him twice and let him touch you?”
She giggles, but the giggles quickly turn into hiccups. “He likes to play dirty little games and say naughty things in my ear. I thought—”
“Fuck me,” I breathe, stepping back and pushing my hands through my hair.
I pace in front of her, not understanding how she could let this happen, but more than that, how could she not tell me?
This happened twice and she hasn’t said a single thing.
How the fuck am I supposed to protect her from this asshole if she’s letting him have his way with her? Fucking hell.
“You let him touch you?” I clarify, already burning with questions that are going to have to wait until she’s not intoxicated.
She bites down on her lip and looks at me with such guilt it’s almost heartbreaking. “I thought it might have been you.”
“For fuck’s sake, Harper. Are you trying to get yourself killed?” I demand, suddenly understanding what the fuck happened to her underwear.
Her bottom lip quivers, and I immediately feel like an ass. “You wouldn’t hurt me.”
“No, I wouldn’t,” I tell her. “But I’m not this guy. I’m not him, and he sure as fuck will hurt you, Harper. You can’t let this happen. Do you have any idea how many times I’ve seen this? It never ends well.”
She rolls her tongue over her bottom lip and glances away, her tone lowering to almost a whisper. “But I liked it.”
I blow out a heavy breath, having no fucking idea how I’m supposed to navigate this. All I know is that this situation is escalating, and sooner or later, he’ll get what he wants from her, assuming he hasn’t already had enough, but when he does, he’ll end her life.
“Come on,” I say, “get in the truck. I’m taking you back to my place where I can keep an eye on you, and in the morning, we’re going to talk about this.”
Harper groans and lets out a heavy sigh, but thankfully wanders her ass around to the other side of my truck and climbs in. I reluctantly get in as well, and the moment I turn on the truck, Izzy falls asleep in the backseat, her soft snores filling the cab.
Just fucking great.
It’s a short drive back to my place, and yet the heavy silence makes every passing second feel as though it’s dragging on. Harper doesn’t say a word the whole drive, and I keep my mouth shut, trying not to rip into her about allowing this asshole to put his hands on her.
There’s got to be more to this story. Harper-Rayn is a smart girl. I don’t believe that she’d just willingly let this happen, no matter how good she thinks it’s going to be. Not even if she truly thought it was me.
By the time we reach my home, there’s no waking Izzy, and I have no choice but to haul her over my shoulder. As Harper gets to her feet and tries to walk, it’s clear that this isn’t going to be as easy as I’d hoped.
Harper squeals as I toss her over my other shoulder and stride into my home. If I’m lucky, my neighbors aren’t watching me bring two intoxicated women into my home. I can only imagine how this looks.
Taking them down to my spare room, I put the girls on the bed, and Harper immediately crawls across the sheets, helping take off Izzy’s shoes.
Once she has the blanket pulled up to her chin, Harper gets to her feet and wobbles across the room, disappearing into the bathroom.
She emerges a few minutes later with her hair down and most of her makeup scrubbed off.
Her outfit smells like a bar, and I get her yet another shirt before leaving her to it and getting myself ready for bed. I go to the bathroom and wash my face before standing at the sink, bracing my hands against the cool porcelain and wondering what the fuck I’m supposed to do.
I can’t help somebody who doesn’t want to be helped. I don’t need to protect her from her stalker, I need to protect her from herself.
Finishing up in the bathroom, I peel my shirt off and make my way to bed, but when I tug the blankets back, Harper is already curled up inside them.
I stand and watch her for just a moment, hating how much I like her there.
Knowing this will complicate things for me so much more, I climb in behind her and pull her straight into my arms, letting her curl up on my chest, and hoping like fuck I don’t fall in love with this girl.