Ruthless Bastard (Dangerous Love 3)

“Dammit,” she spat.

She tried Asher.

Again, no answer.

The room began to swallow her up. A quick look back, and the leader smiled at her again. Not a nice smile, but more of a I’m-going-to-eat-you-my-dear grin. She really didn’t want to make the next call. For two weeks she’d been trying to get in touch with Rhett. He’d never returned her call. Not once. She’d even showed up at his house one night. He didn’t answer the door, even though she knew he was inside.

But the tightness in her gut and the steady thumping of her heart had her texting Rhett: 911. That was their code for call immediately.

Her phone rang a second later. “What’s wrong?”

Rhett’s low smooth voice sent goose bumps racing across her arms. “Wow. You actually called me back.”

There was a pause. A long pause. One that went on and on, with all the awkwardness that had been present between them ever since that hot night in the tropics. And yet…and yet…Kinsley wouldn’t go back and change a thing. It didn’t matter that Rhett could barely look her in the eye anymore, or that he never came into the bar, that night had changed her life. In good ways that she’d never regret.

“Are you in trouble?” he finally asked, breaking the heavy silence.

“Maybe. Are you busy right now? There’s some guys that just came into the bar—”

“I’m on my way.” The call ended.

She released a breath and slid her cell phone into her pocket then shuffled back to the bar. Neither of the three men had moved, still watching her with their creepy eyes.

“Sweetheart,” the leader said in a voice that stole any warmth from the word. “Another shot for me and my guys here.”

She avoided the coldness in his stare and grabbed the whiskey bottle on the back wall then refilled the shot glasses. “Let me know if you need anything else,” she told them.

“Oh, I definitely need something else,” he purred, a scary edge rising in his gaze.

Kinsley sighed heavily, making sure he heard. There was one thing she hated more than drunk rudeness, and that was arrogant cockiness. “Listen, I’ve already kicked out one person tonight. Wanna be number two?”

The guy’s wink sent off warning bells in her mind. “Now that sounds like an interesting night.”

And just like that, she’d had enough of men tonight. She craved her bed and some peace and quiet to have her pity party over her terrible birthday. But right as she went to turn away, the man latched on to her wrist. Hard. She whirled back to him, but any insults she planned on yelling at him died. His stare penetrated her, practically stripping her skin off and peeling back the

layers until he found her weak spots.

“Remove your hand.”

The sharp order snapped her attention up. She released a shuddering breath, both in relief to find Rhett had arrived and surprise at the venom in his voice. But too soon all she felt was a heady warmth brought on by his closeness and the dangerous glint in his rich chocolate brown eyes and black hair. Rhett was intimidating. He’d left for the military as a kid and come back home stronger and all grown up. Now thirty-three years old, Rhett’s body was made up of solid muscle from dedication to being in top form. He was a bit too rough to be called handsome, but Rhett was pure masculine perfection, and Kinsley was there for all of it.

The man’s fingers only tightened on Kinsley’s wrist. “We got a problem here, West?” he asked.

Rhett slowly gestured toward her wrist, those eyes now blazing. “Do you need assistance removing your hand, Dalton?”

The fact that Rhett knew him only made Kinsley feel better about calling. The man squeezing her wrist was a well-known criminal. She sensed the bar go quiet, the customers at their tables slowly turning to watch them. She stood frozen, her free hand moving to her belly as her earlier dinner went leaden in her stomach. No sounds crept in except the quickening of her heartbeat in her ears. Until the guy squeezed her wrist again. Hard. She flinched against the pain, and then everything happened so fast.

Rhett took Dalton to the ground, which nearly pulled her onto the bar since the biker fought against letting go. The other two men jumped to their feet, their stools kicked to the side, but Rhett was ready with his weapon aimed in their direction.

A beat passed.

“Do not toy with me, Dalton,” Rhett growled, his attention on the standing men.

Kinsley blinked.

“You can leave,” Rhett went on, “or I can take you down to the station.” He dug his knee into Dalton’s back, easily pinning him with a fierce hold on his neck.

It was the absolute worst time for Kinsley’s attention to roam over Rhett’s bulging biceps and the corded muscles on his forearms. Heat rolled over her. Outnumbered, Rhett looked bold and brave and damn near the sexiest thing Kinsley had ever seen in her life.