Dirty Deeds (Get Dirty 3)

“But—”

“If you ever see my girl here anywhere at all,” I interrupt him, “you’d best run the other fucking way because if you so much as lay an eye on her, I’ll fuck you up so badly, your own mother won’t be able to identify the body. If they find it. Clear?”

He nods jerkily, weeping softly and sober as a judge at the turn of events. I don’t feel sorry for him at all. He probably thought a little more forceful asking in the deserted parking lot would lead to Meghan partying with him, willingly or not.

Fucking pricks like him, thinking they’re entitled to whatever they want just because they want it.

Still, I don’t have time for a philosophy lesson. “Meghan, open the car door.”

She moves from behind me, and I keep an eye on her movements, making sure no other threats pop out of hiding in the dark lot. I pull up a bit on Miles’s arm, the pressure forcing him to stand in front of me. I prisoner-walk him to the side of the car and push him in, where he clumsily falls into the driver’s seat, yelping as his shoulder gives him a warning twinge at the release of the hammerlock. “Fuck, man, I’m gonna—”

I lean down, keeping eye contact as I cage him in with one hand on the roof and one hand on the door. “Think about your next words and where you’re making your threat. Goodbye, Miles Jacobson. I don’t want to ever see you again.”

I give him a hard stare, memorizing every detail of his face and his car, down to the company parking garage badge hanging from the rearview mirror.

Stepping back carefully, I slam his door and then give it a swift and solid back-kick with my hard-soled boots, denting the panel. It’s not enough. I’d rather break his jaw or the glass out of every window of his fancy car, but it’ll have to do.

I stand, stoic and solid, still threatening as Meghan hides behind me again. He peels out of the lot, but I catch the ‘Fuck you!’ he yells out the open window.

Not worrying about his need for the last word, I turn to Meghan, gently putting my hands on her shoulders. She’s trembling for real this time, and so tiny I have to be careful not to accidentally hurt or scare her with my roughness. It’s more difficult than I thought. I’m still on edge, and this is the first time I’ve touched Meg other than to shake her hand the first night we met.

“Are you okay?” I ask. “It’s all over now.”

Her eyes are glassy, but she nods, biting her lip. My thumbs are tracing circles on her arms, soothing her and soothing me too. This could’ve been bad, really bad, and I’m glad I was here to keep her safe.

“You’re okay. He’s gone, and you’re safe,” I murmur softly. “I’ll always do my best to keep you safe.”

She suddenly collapses forward, all the energy keeping her upright whooshing out as she falls against me, shaking and rambling. “Holy fracking . . . he could’ve . . . fluffernutter . . .”

She says some of the words like she’s cussing, even though she’s decidedly not, and even in the midst of the insanity, it makes the corners of my lips tilt up. I’ve noticed it before, and in some ways, Meg sounds a lot like someone’s churchgoing cousin.

She’s sweet, an innocent little darling who doesn’t belong in a rough life like this. She’s way too much of a good girl for someone like me. I gather her closer, wrapping one arm around her shoulders, and lead her back inside the club.

“Marco. Hey, man!” I call out as the door closes. “Get your ass out here!”

Marco pops up from below the bar after a few seconds, already teasing. “Took you long enough. I need your help grabbing another case of—”

His words cut off when he sees Meghan, and he rushes out to get on the other side of her. Despite his player tendencies, he’s got a decent heart and knows a girl in need when he sees one.

I squeeze off the growl of ‘Don’t Touch’ that threatens to pass my lips when he grabs her hand, but together, we get her sitting at the bar.

“You got a pen and paper?” I ask as Meghan shivers, putting her head in her hands.

Marco rushes behind the bar again, grabbing a tumbler and filling it with ice and water before setting it in front of Meghan. “Yeah, yeah. Here you go.” He grabs a notepad and pen from beside the register, and I write down Miles’s information and description, along with his vehicle description and license plate.

I push it back toward Marco, who looks the information over. “This guy. He’s banned from the club, from the whole damn block, and definitely from Meghan. Pass the word.”