4. Havoc
Havoc
I stalk toward the bar.
Not walk.
Not stroll.
I. Motherfucking. Stalk.
Every step brings me closer to Gabriella, and every step settles something inside Monster while winding the rest of me tighter.
Her eyes widen slightly when she realizes I’m coming straight for her.
“Havoc? I mean, um, can I help you?”
“What are you doing here?”
Her eyebrows shoot up.
“Um... working?”
The way she says it makes it clear she thinks I’m a fucking idiot.
Maybe I am.
Because I know she’s working. What I want to know is why she’s working.
Why here? Why tonight?
Why is she doing this after spending the entire fucking day on her feet at The Joint?
Before I can demand an answer, the asshole at the bar decides he has a death wish.
“Excuse me, buddy, but I’m talking to the lady here.”
My head turns slowly.
Lady.
Yeah.
I fucking know who he’s talking to.
Gabriella.
My Honey Girl who isn’t actually my anything.
Fuck.
The male lifts one hand like he’s going to touch me.
Big mistake.
Monster surges forward so violently my skin tightens over my bones.
Threat.
I don’t move.
Don’t growl.
Don’t have to.
I just look at him.
His hand stops in midair.
Recognition flickers across his face.
Not because he knows me.
Because he knows what I am.
Monster.
The realization comes a second later when I breathe him in properly.
Fuck.
So is he.
Some kind of Shifter, though I don’t immediately give enough of a shit to figure out what kind.
He’s weak.
That much is obvious.
Submissive enough that my natural dominance hits him like a fucking freight train the second I stop holding it back.
The air around us changes. Power rolls off me in a silent wave. Not something I consciously summon.
It’s simply there.
True Alpha.
Monster rises inside me, massive and merciless, and for once I don’t shove him down.
Because this male made Gabriella uncomfortable. Because he looked at her like she was something on the fucking menu. And because now he’s standing between me and the female every instinct I possess is screaming at me to protect.
His pupils dilate. His shoulders drop. His gaze averts.
The hand he’d been stupid enough to raise lowers slowly.
I watch his throat work as he tries to swallow.
Good.
“Y-you’re—”
My eyes burn hotter.
He shuts the fuck up.
Smartest thing he’s done all night.
I lean closer.
“You don’t talk to her. Ever.”
Behind me, Gabriella sucks in a breath.
Maybe I shouldn’t have said that.
Actually, I definitely shouldn’t have said that. I have no right to tell another male who can and can’t speak to her.
But Monster is too close to the surface, my dominance is riding me too fucking hard, and all I can think about is the discomfort I saw in her eyes.
“O-okay,” he whimpers.
The male reaches for his jacket.
Then he leaves.
Just fucking leaves.
Skedaddles, actually.
I watch him go, Monster practically preening inside me.
Gone.
“Jesus Christ!”
I turn around.
Gabriella does not look impressed.
At all.
She’s standing behind the bar with both hands planted on those lush hips, dark eyes flashing fire at me.
“Thanks a lot!”
I frown.
“You’re welcome.”
“That wasn’t gratitude, Havoc!”
“Oh?”
“He didn’t even pay his check!”
I glance toward the empty stool. Then back at her.
“That’s what you’re pissed about?”
“Yes! Because unlike some people, I actually need this job, and customers walking out without paying generally isn’t considered good service. Not to mention, the boss’ll take it from my tips.”
Fuck.
I hadn’t thought about that.
Of course I fucking hadn’t.
Monster wanted the threat gone. So I made him go.
Consequences apparently came later.
“How much?”
“That’s not the point.”
“How much, Gabby?”
She blows out an aggravated breath and reaches for the check. I don’t wait. I grab it, pull out my wallet, take the first bill my fingers hit, and drop it onto the bar.
It’s a hundred.
“There.”
Her eyes widen.
“Havoc, his check isn’t that much.”
“Keep the change.”
“I am not keeping—”
“Then give it to the other bartender. Put it in the tip jar. Buy Matteo something. I don’t give a shit.”
That stops her.
Her expression changes the second I say her son’s name.
Fuck.
I shouldn’t know that kid needs anything.
Shouldn’t have noticed the sneakers he was wearing last time were getting too small.
Shouldn’t know he likes chocolate milk and hates pickles.
Shouldn’t know Gabriella cuts his burgers in half because he gets frustrated when they're too big for him to hold.
I shouldn’t know any of it.
But I fucking do.
Because apparently while I’ve been telling myself to stay away from this woman, I’ve been memorizing her entire goddamn life.
Her gaze stays on mine.
“You can’t just throw money around every time you scare off one of my customers.”
“I didn't scare him.”
She stares at me.
“Havoc.”
“He chose to leave.”
“Because you looked at him like you were deciding which body part to rip off first!”
I consider that.
“Wasn’t deciding.”
Her mouth falls open.
“I already knew.”
“Havoc!”
A laugh almost gets out. Almost.
Fuck, she’s so pretty when she’s pissed.
Those dark eyes flash. Her cheeks get pink. Even that golden-brown skin across her chest flushes darker above the low neckline of her shirt.
Monster notices too.
Honey Girl.
Yeah.
Fucking gorgeous.
I force my attention back to the problem.
“You already worked today.”
Gabriella blinks at the abrupt change.
“What?”
“You worked at The Joint.”
“Yeah.”
“All day.”
Her expression turns wary.
“Yeah.”
“And now you’re here.”
She folds her arms across her chest.
Another mistake.
Mine this time.
Because all that does is push her breasts higher against that fucking shirt.
My gaze drops.
Fuck.
“Havoc.”
I look up.
“What?”
“My face is up here.”
“I know where your face is.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“Gabby.”
“What?”
I lean across the bar. Close enough to smell her.
That warm, smoky September-morning scent floods my lungs, and Monster practically rolls over inside me.
There’s that other note beneath it too.
The one I can’t identify.
Secret.
Hidden.
Hers.
And beneath all of it?
Exhaustion.
My amusement disappears.
“I know you worked a shift today,” I repeat, quieter this time. “So I’ll ask again.”
Her chin comes up.
“Why are you here?”
She stares at me for a long second. Then those pretty eyes harden.
“It’s none of your business, Havoc. But since I know you won’t go away until I tell you, here goes. I’m working because I need the money.”
Simple.
Direct.
None of my fucking business.
And somehow the answer makes every possessive instinct inside me go completely fucking feral.
Because suddenly Monster isn’t thinking about chasing other males away from her.
He’s thinking about feeding her. Sheltering her. Taking care of her. Taking care of her kid.
Our kid.
My stomach drops.
Oh, fuck.
That might be worse.
Her expression changes.
The surprise disappears.
In its place?
Annoyance.
Those dark eyes narrow, and her full lips press into a stubborn little line that does absolutely nothing to discourage me.
If anything, it makes the attraction worse.
“What do you need the money for, Gabby?”
“Fuck you.”
The words come out sharp and immediate.
And damn.
She looks hot when she’s pissed.
Her cheeks flush, color spreading over that smooth, tanned skin. Her breasts rise beneath that low-cut shirt with every irritated breath, and something about the way she squares those soft shoulders and looks me dead in the eye makes Monster sit up and take notice.
Me too.
Maybe I should be irritated by her caginess.
Instead, I want to know more.
Every time Gabriella throws another wall between us, some fucked-up part of me wants to get closer and find out what she’s protecting behind it.
Who she’s protecting.
Why.
And maybe that should bother me.
It doesn’t.
“I don’t think you should speak to customers like that.”
“You’re not a customer.”
One corner of my mouth lifts.
“I’ll have a beer. Whatever’s on tap.”
Her nostrils flare.
Fuck, I like irritating her.
Maybe too much.
She snatches a clean glass, turns toward the tap, and pulls me a long one.
Which gives me an uninterrupted view of her ass in those black jeans.
Jesus fucking Christ.
Soft.
Round.
Generous.
My palms practically ache with the urge to find out whether she feels as good as she looks.
Touch.
“No.”
Gabriella turns around.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
She gives me a suspicious look before setting the glass down harder than necessary.
“Here’s your beer.”
Minimal foam.
Cold glass.
Nice job.
I take a sip without breaking eye contact.
“Good.”
“Thrilled you approve.”
“Gabby, what do you need the money for?”
Her eyes narrow again.
Oh, she’s getting angrier by the second.
Good.
Maybe pissed off means she’ll finally tell me the truth.
Or maybe she’ll tell me to go fuck myself again.
I’m strangely good with either option.
She tries to ignore me.
“Can I get you something else?”
“Just an explanation.”
“You want that with ice?”
The bartender beside her coughs suspiciously into his fist. I turn my head and glare at him. He immediately finds somewhere else to be.
Smart male.
When I look back, Gabriella has both palms planted on the bar. Which makes her lean forward. Which gives me a view straight down that fucking shirt.
Fuck my life.
“Whiskey?” she asks.
“No.”
“Pretzels?”
“Nope.”
“Then enjoy your beer.”
She pushes away from the bar.
Moves.
And every possessive instinct inside me screams at once.
Don’t let her leave.
My hand shoots out.
I catch her wrist.
Gently.
Always fucking gently with her.
But the second my fingers close around that warm, silky skin, the whole damn world seems to narrow to the place where we touch.
Gabriella freezes.
So do I.
Heat races up my arm.
Her pulse flutters beneath my fingertips.
Fast.
Too fast.
And her scent—fuck.
That smoky, crisp sweetness floods my senses until my Wolf is practically clawing through my chest to get closer.
She feels it too.
I know she fucking does.
Her pupils widen. Her lips part.
For one suspended second, all that anger between us shifts into something else.
Something hotter.
Hungrier.
Her gaze drops to my hand around her wrist before slowly climbing back to my face.