The Payback (Team Zulu 2)

With glazed eyes, Jackass’s focus shifted from Brandon to me. “This fool your boyfriend?”

“She’s with me,” Brandon said and tucked his arm around me. When I leaned into him, he tightened his hold.

Jackass stood to his full height, which was every bit as tall as Brandon’s. I didn’t miss the way he puffed his chest out, the blackTapoutT-shirt straining at his bulk.

I’d seen guys like him turn up at my kickboxing gym, wanting to impress the trainers by sparring as if it were a title fight. They usually got kicked out because no one wanted a testosterone-fueled meathead trying to prove himself.

And Jackass here fancied himself a brawler.

“She can answer for herself. She’s got a mouth on her.” His eyes raked over my body. “And a great set of tits.”

Sensing Brandon was milliseconds from redecorating this guy’s face, I placed a steadying palm on his shoulder and gave a subtle shake of my head.

Brandon’s chest heaved with the effort of standing down. “I can’t walk away from that. Sage, he just—”

I pressed a finger across his lips, and the action stunned him into silence. “Uh-uh. He said he wants to hear fromme.”

Brandon blinked a bunch of times, as if my words confused him. He’d catch on soon enough. No one spoke to me like that and got away with it.

Adrenaline pumped through me as I spun on Jackass. “Fine, you want my answer? Here it is, dickface.”

Taking one step back, I used all my strength to deliver a lightning-fast, hefty kick to his balls. While he was doubled over in pain, I clinched him around the neck and rammed my knee into his face.

He went to the ground with a heavy thud, sending one of the barstools crashing over as he fell. His face contorted in agony. Blood streamed from his nose while he cupped where his balls should be, although they were probably now lodged in his throat.

My heart thumped so hard I thought it might fly out of my chest. “Holy shit.” I panted and brushed my hair back from my face. “That was awesome. Did you see that?”

Jackass rolled into the fetal position and took quick breaths while bellowing like a coyote caught in a trap.

Brandon’s eyes remained locked on mine, and he smiled. “If by awesome, you mean brutal? Then yeah, it absolutely was.” His grin widened, and he took a step toward me, but froze when his gaze focused over my shoulder.

I followed his stare to find Jackass’s pals approaching fast. “Uh-oh.”

They glanced between the sobbing mess on the floor and Brandon, not realizing it was me who’d brought their wannabe heavyweight champ to his knees.

“Sage, head for the exit. Now.”

I shook my head, my eyes remaining on the burly guys heading our way. “I’m not leaving you.”

“Ah, crap” were his last words before he pushed me aside. One guy swung at him with a haymaker. But Brandon was fast and ducked the blow, returning with a solid hook to the jaw and a powerful uppercut that had his attacker crashing to the floor. Dude might want to look for his teeth while he was down there.

Another approached, but before he got close enough to strike, Brandon sent him flying backward with a wicked push kick to the chest. The guy crashed into his pals, destabilizing the lot of them.

That bought us precious seconds. Brandon grabbed my hand. “Let’s go.”

He didn’t need to tell me twice. We rushed for the door, Brandon urging me in front of him as we worked our way through the crowd.

I heard a grunt from behind and spun to find a guy clinging to Brandon as if he were hitching a piggyback ride, except his muscle-bound arm was wrapped around Brandon’s throat. Judging by Brandon’s strained expression and the veins bulging at his temple, the jerk had cut off his air.

People scrambled to get out of the way. Brandon tried to tear the guy off him. It didn’t work, so he swung around and reared back against the bar. The guy on his shoulders grunted but didn’t let go. Again, Brandon slammed him into the bar. This time, his grip loosened enough that Brandon flung him over his shoulder and onto the hard floor. He lay there, winded and cringing.

The crowd parted when the last and biggest of the douchebag crew advanced. This guy knew how to fight: guard up, feet spaced shoulder-width apart with weight distributed evenly. And if his cauliflower ears were anything to go by, he was a serious contender.

But Brandon didn’t balk. He rolled his shoulders and squared up against the beast of a man, matching his stance. Clearly, this wasn’t his first rodeo, either.

Nuh-uh. I wouldn’t allow this chump to ruin our firstnot dateby cracking any of Brandon’s ribs or reopening his stitches.

I snatched a pool cue from a woman nearby who’d abandoned her game to watch the fight.

I came up behind the big guy, holding my newfound weapon like a baseball bat. Screaming like a crazy lady, I swung with all my strength.

With a loud crack, the pool cue snapped in half, and the big guy stumbled forward, clutching the back of his head. When he turned to see where the blow had come from, I picked up the other half of the cue and rammed the thick end into his solar plexus. He choked out a breath and bent over, gasping.

I wasn’t done with him yet. I brought my weapon back and took another swing as if aiming for a home run and the ball was in the center of the guy’s skull. His head flung back, and his solid body thumped to the ground. He made a pathetic, pained cry before his limbs twitched, then went limp.

Breathing heavily, I held the cue at the ready in case I needed to take another swing. I didn’t. Dickhead was out cold.

Brandon rushed to me. “Are you all right?” His large hands cupped my cheeks while his gaze darted over my face.

“I’m fine.” I tossed the cue to the ground and grabbed Brandon’s hand. “Come on. We have to go.”