Chapter Twenty-Two #3
The guy’s face screwed up into a contemptuous sneer. “Eh, you can have the fuckin’ slut. I just bought her drinks to try and get in her pants. Fuck you, bitch.”
He turned away, and before Matt could blink, Shane was on the guy, his arm around his neck in a choke hold. “Is that how you always talk to women? Fuck you.”
The asshole’s eyes rolled back in his head as his carotid artery was compressed to within an inch of his losing consciousness. Just before he did, Shane released the pressure and pushed him away. The guy stumbled and went down to all fours, gasping for air and clutching his throat.
With loud exclamations, two of his companions rushed over to help him stand. “C’mon, Andy. Let it go. We don’t want any trouble.” The guy who spoke pointed at Shane. “We could take you in for assault, though, buddy, so watch it.”
Matt got the feeling his companions had dealt with Andy a lot in these types of situations. Their calming techniques were practiced, the things they were saying to him said with the weary air of someone who’d said them a million times before.
Andy swayed on his feet, his hair mussed, shirt askew. Matt knew the type of guy well. Used to being the best-looking dude in his crew, he’d pick up on women, buy them drinks and then try to make them feel as if they owed him something at the end of the night. Prick.
Matt glanced at Shane just in time to see him shake his head in disgust and brush his hands together as if slinging off dirt.
The action instantly inflamed Andy, who broke free of his companions and lunged at Shane, fist swinging.
Shane dodged the blow easily, but in doing so his boot caught in the same patch of rough carpet the woman’s had and he stumbled.
Andy took advantage of him being off-balance and swung again, this time making contact with a sickening crunch.
Blood exploded from Shane’s eyebrow. White-hot rage flooded Matt’s body, and he bellowed as he launched himself at Andy, dimly aware that the extra security Lani had alerted was already surging up the stairs.
One of the bouncers wrapped his arms around Matt to restrain him. Cursing, Matt wrenched away.
“He started it,” Andy screamed, pointing at Shane, who had blood pouring down his face. “He choked me out!”
It was pandemonium as SEALs and off-duty cops came together in a clash.
No further punches were thrown but there were shouted accusations along with pushes and shoves.
The tense situation was just about to burst into flame when several uniformed policemen rushed up the stairs and ordered each group to fall back.
“I’ll arrest everyone here,” the guy in charge warned. “Every single one of you fuckers will be going in.” He glared at Andy, including him in the statement, listening impassively as Andy excitedly informed him what Shane had done. “I had to hit him in self-defense!”
“What the fuck? Bullshit!” Howls of rage erupted from everyone on Shane’s side as he was handcuffed, then led down the stairs, a gloating Andy behind him.
By the time Matt fought his way outside, Shane had been pushed to sitting on a curb, hands still cuffed behind him. His face was a mess of blood, although his lips were twisted in a sneer.
Andy stood in front of him, taunting him. “Not so pretty now, are you, motherfucker? Ain’t no bitches gonna suck your cock tonight.” He smirked, obviously feeling safe since Shane was restrained. “You probably couldn’t get it up for that slut anyway, you fa—”
With a roar Shane leapt to his feet and lunged. Immediately two SEALs were on him to wrestle him back. “Easy, bud. This piece of shit ain’t worth it.”
The SEALs held Shane down as he blistered the air with curses, the epithets so creative that Matt had to fight a sudden urge to laugh. All the while Shane struggled against the SEALs’ grip, blood dripping from his chin.
At last he ran out of steam and sagged, the men holding him letting him go with comforting pats to his shoulder. Matt could hear the cop in charge calling for a paddy wagon to take Shane to jail, and a burst of renewed fury surged through him, making him shake.
No fucking way.
He plopped himself down on the curb next to Shane, muttering out of the corner of his mouth, “I don’t think I’ve ever been so turned on in my entire life.”
As Shane gaped at him, Matt raised his voice and shouted to the cops, “I started the fucking fight. Arrest me.” He held his wrists up as if daring them to cuff him. “It was me.”
Andy whirled around, sputtering, “What the—No, it was that blond dude.”
“Nope, it was me.” Matt glared at him, holding his wrists high. Immediately the rest of their classmates arrayed themselves along the curb, each loudly proclaiming they’d started the fight and demanding they be arrested.
Matt wanted to grin when the team guys followed suit, and soon there were at least twenty men insisting they’d started the fight, not Shane. The cop in charge glared at them, then walked over to stand in front of one of the team guys.
“Really, Jimmy? Really?”
Jimmy grinned. “You’re gonna be interviewing witnesses all night, Brett, straightening this out,” he said placidly. “By the time you get to the paperwork, it’ll be time for your next shift to start.”
“Fuck me.” The cop sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He tilted his head back and stared at the sky for a moment before muttering, “Cut him loose.”
Andy’s protests were loud and vociferous, and the cop whirled on him. “Shut. Your. Drunk. Fucking. Mouth. Now.”
Andy did.
A few moments later Matt was hauling Shane to his feet, wincing as Shane chafed the red marks on his wrists. He watched warily to make sure he didn’t make any moves toward Andy, who was being hustled off in the opposite direction by his own crew.
“Get out of here. All of you,” Brett ordered, pointing off down the street. “Wait. Who’s driving?”
Matt raised his hand, and the cop marched him over to his patrol car and had him do a portable breathalyzer test, seemingly disappointed at the negative results. “Go.”
After giving him a cocky grin, Matt double-timed it after his group. He caught up with them a block later and hurried to Shane’s side, putting his hand on his arm to stop him. “Lemme see if you’re gonna need stitches.”
With an impatient huff, Shane bent his head for Matt to peer at the cut on his eyebrow. “I’m fine, Soup,” he said curtly. “Asshole was wearing a ring, that’s all. Otherwise it would’ve been nothing.”
“Don’t worry, you’re still the baddest of the badasses,” Matt said with a smirk, after reassuring himself that while the wound had bled copiously, it wasn’t very deep. “That was a fuckin’ dirty hit.”
Shane turned to Aaron. “I’m sorry about your friend’s party…” he began, trailing off when Aaron whooped.
“Are you kidding?” he exclaimed. “Best party ever.” He punched Shane on the arm. “Rhys said his team gets in bar fights all the time because dudes’re always trying to start shit with them. It’s all good.”