Breaker (Silver Saints MC) - Page 5

I pushed Ireland behind me and took a threatening step forward. “Excuse me?”

“Of course, she is!” A tall blonde chirped as she stepped up to my side—the drummer. “She just doesn’t broadcast her relationships.”

“She’s been dating Breaker for a while now, Scott,” one of the other girls piped up from behind me. I mentally applauded her for her quick thinking—reading my name stitched on the back of my Silver Saints cut.

Ireland slipped her hand around my waist and moved to stand on my other side. She looked up at me with an adoring expression. I couldn’t resist her soft smile, so I bent my head and brushed our lips together. “Been keeping me to yourself?” I teased when I pulled back.

She shrugged, “What can I say? You’re all mine.”

That statement was truer than she knew.

“If you’re going to be here, though, I’ll make sure every girl around knows you’re taken.”

Her possessiveness was cute as hell and incredibly sexy. She was seriously wreaking havoc on my self-control.

I tore my eyes from hers and shifted them to the bouncer, who was still looking at us dubiously. Then he smoothed his features and zeroed in on Ireland, adopting a softer tone when he said, “You don’t have to pretend, Ireland. If he’s forcing you to say these things, I can help you.”

A growl rumbled in my throat, but Ireland piped up. “No one’s forcing anything on me, Scott.” Her voice sounded piqued, and I smiled, amused because she was so fucking adorable.

His expression said he clearly didn’t believe her, but he backed off, slowly descending the stairs. I caught a look between him and another similarly dressed meathead guarding another door who nodded. Seriously? He can’t be this stupid...he sent the same look to another man at the front door who also nodded. Yup. Dumb as a box of rocks.

I considered dealing with them by myself, but I had Ireland to worry about. So I slipped my phone from my pocket and sent a quick text. Then I focused on my girl and grinned. “I’m Breaker—Sebastian Ross—nice to meet you.”

“She’s Ireland Foster, and she’s very grateful. In fact, she’ll totally go on a date with you as a thank you,” the blond drummer announced with a cheeky smile.

“That so?”

Ireland's cheeks burned red, but she smiled and shrugged. “Sure. You’re pretty hot, and I already know you can kiss so...”

I threw my head back and laughed. When my amusement died, I joked, “Is that how you thank any man who stands up for you?” I used a teasing tone, but I needed her answer so I could make sure she knew that from this moment, the only man she kissed was me.

One of the other girls—the bass player with brunette hair except for hot pink tips—scoffed, “Yeah, right. I’m not sure Ireland’s ever been on a date.”

Ireland tossed her bandmate a dirty look. “Yes, I have.”

“Your mother setting you up with a country club snob for prom is not a date,” the bassist stated.

Ireland rolled her eyes before meeting mine again. “Okay, so she’s mostly right,” she admitted.

I raised an eyebrow.

“All right, so she’s dead on.”

I laughed again and winked. “I’ll tell you a secret,” I murmured. “I don’t remember the last time I had a date, so this will be new territory for us both.”

Her eyes went wide, but they crinkled at the corners as she smiled. “Really?” I nodded. “Cool.”

Laughing again, I reached for her keyboard and curled my arm around her waist. “We won’t wait up!” the drummer called out before all three girls burst into laughter.

When we reached the bottom stair, I noticed Scott and his pathetic posse huddled in a corner, throwing us furtive glances. Sighing, I guided Ireland over to the bar and put her on a stool. I flagged the attention of Wendy—who I’d known since I was twenty because she was Scout’s younger sister. She didn’t come around the club often anymore because of how overprotective Scout could be, but I saw her around every once in a while when I was in this neck of the woods. Something her brother didn’t mind since it meant I could check on her for him.

She lifted her brow, and I cocked my head in Ireland’s direction. After receiving her answering nod, I kissed my girl on the crown of her head and whispered. “Stay put for a few minutes, baby.”

I left Ireland in Wendy’s care—Scout had made damn sure she could take care of herself—and helped the other girls load their van while keeping an eye out for my brothers. I knew Scott and his buddies would wait for me to leave with Ireland before they made their move.

Just as I loaded the last amp, the ground hummed, and the rumble of motorcycles reached my ears. Spinning on my heel, I walked back into the bar and sent a sinister smile to the trio of idiots. It’s on, motherfuckers.

Tags: Fiona Davenport Romance
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